beneath the ribs

Empathy.

To share both the greatest joys and deepest sorrow with others.

The blessing that revives the heart and the curse that demolishes it.

It’s by far one of the greatest gifts I’m thankful for, but it’s war — sometimes victorious, sometimes catastrophic.

Being able to understand and share both the victories and burdens of others gives my heart indescribable fulfillment; it’s what makes me feel connected with others as I’m able to hear them out and team up with them to celebrate, cry, dance, mourn, heal or simply ache. Doing life with others gives me life. But it also empties me.

Sometimes, especially lately, there have been impossibly tragic things that have either crossed me or crossed the ones I love, and I often find myself having to claw through layers and layers of darkness just to resurface and catch a gasping breath from the light.

I’m convinced there’s nothing more painful than watching someone you love die. It feels like someone’s ripping you straight open and tearing a chunk out of your body and never returning it. You heal — really, really slowly — but it takes a ridiculous amount of time before the emptiness is something you’re just accustomed to, like when you wear a ring on your finger long enough to feel like it’s apart of your body.

It’s hard when people are torn from you, because they helped make you, you. Their words, actions, decisions — everything shaped you, bit by bit. They helped fabricate the essence of who you’ve become by the countless hours, days and years they’ve invested themselves in you.

And then they’re gone. And they took part of you with them. And you’re not getting that part back, because it was theirs to give and nobody else’s.

But — although they were torn from you, you can still find them within you from time to time. I’d like to think they’re woven into everything under your ribs — in your lungs and heart, the stuff that keeps going rhythmically, subconsciously. The things that are the last to fail.

For an incredibly passionate and driven person, it’s insane how far my mind can travel to the opposite side of the spectrum. One minute I can be the most positive, motivated person you’ll meet, and other times I literally skim through reasons to get out of bed.

So yeah, emotions can suck — so maybe I’ll have less energy today. Maybe my brain is becoming chemically imbalanced. Maybe there’s no way my body can continue carrying all this weight — mentally, physically or emotionally. Maybe I take people’s burdens on my own shoulders a little too much.

But I’ll always choose empathy. Without feeling the deepest of both sides, we’re left in a passive, meaningless grey. Supressing, ignoring and brushing off are all much less of a gamble than laughing, crying, healing, aching, jumping and crumbling… but there isn’t a time for everything, for nothing.

Whatever time it is right now for me feels like it’s been dragging on far too long. But the sum of all times ends in hope — in a new time, one that will rewrite all the other times as a blink of an eye.

A time of hope. It’s coming. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but it’s coming.

So I’ll continue to engage and fight and rage through this, cause I’m not settling for a half-assed blink. All it takes is all I got.