The next generation

I can remember raising my littles, out in a town of 400, at the end of a dirt road. Our tv only got three stations, thank God for TV Ontario — and Star Trek TNG. That and The Naked Chef (Jamie Oliver) kept me sane. I can remember watching TNG and seeing Deanna Troi experience her empathic emotions — it was the first time anyone had ever intonated that there was the possibility of inheriting other people’s emotions.

It seemed so real to me — so right. She was so lucky to have this as a gift — because I had it and it definitely was not a gift, let alone would anyone ever acknowledge that it existed or could have even been real or possible. It was seen as attention seeking, or new age or just me plain old lying. It was none of that, and I knew it was real — but I was unable to figure out how to harness it, use it for good and have enough boundaries to keep it from hurting me.

I did quite well with it in my early 40’s — things were so healthy then. Now it is only distance that keeps me from being overwhelmed by the pain of others, their confusions, anger, sadness or fear. Only my closest loved ones are allowed in — I can’t seem to navigate anything larger than that.

I don’t know if I will ever look at it as a gift ever again. It all just feels so raw, like my nerves are on the outside of my body — that anyone or anything could come in and pluck or play with them — and I am defenseless. Even good emotions seem to put me back a few paces. I want to be able to harness it again, to install better regulators and monitors so that I am not so blindsided by all of it. I can’t remember how it used to work, it seems so very long ago.

I am thankful though that it is no longer looked at like a fairy tale or an attention seeking device. That it has been recognized as real and I no longer need to feel like I’m some science fiction character living in the future.