But I never really knew what it was to be a victim until now. That feeling of violation, the idea that someone has battered down the door, trespassed into your home, and torn everything apart - it wreaks psychological havoc. It disrupts sleep, blunts appetite, dulls the senses, wells the emotions. I alternate between being incredibly rational and goal-directed - talking to the police, filing insurance claims, cleaning the house, cataloging losses - to aimless thought wanderlust. This transition from general to specific is a terrifying, eye-opening thing - to go from the disbelief that such things happen in this world to someone robbed my house - exemplifies for me the idea that you can know something without being intimate with it. And being intimate with crime - even nonviolent property crime - is an awful, wrenching feeling. When this is mixed in with our nonstop schedules, the holiday whirlwind, the new interactions with insurance and law enforcement, it's hard to pin down what I'm feeling. I wall off my emotions and reflections to get through the day. Somehow, sometime, I will need to sit and process everything I'm feeling. For now, I will persevere, remain strong, check off those boxes to get my life on track and safe.
I will also have a little better understanding of what it means to be a victim. When I see my next patient who is a victim of violent crime, iatrogenic harm, loss of medical insurance, an accident - anything - my heart will call out to theirs. We heal in many ways.
No comments:
Post a Comment