Empathy is the most radical of human emotions.
Gloria Steinem
He sat on the edge of the bed holding his head, looking as he did at the lump lying underneath his flimsy blanket. Oh boy, he thought to himself as he felt a literal pang of sadness in his chest. He had a guest, and he could feel her sadness even in her awkward sleep and heavy breathing. It was going to be a long day thinking about this. How to proceed?
He thought back about the night before, vaguely remembering a bacchanalian evening filled with drinking, dancing, and carousing. How had this happened again, and who was this young lady in his bed?
The entire sequence of events actually began the night before with a feeling. A pending sense of doom that he couldn’t shake and that had made him toss and turn all night. He later reported to his dingy office where he worked as a therapist, knowing from the feeling he had felt that some terrible news was coming today. His feelings were never wrong. Never.
The news came when his third session of the day began with a very poor family from a tough part of town. He had always gotten little rushes of emotion when dealing with this family, but now the feeling was so strong his heart was pounding and he actually felt pain in the upper portion of his chest. Something serious was about to go down.
He and the father were friendly. Coming from a blue-collar background himself, he could relate to the family’s struggles, and had always rooted for them to somehow get back on their feet and right the ship. Still, he knew something was off. The daughter, Kim, who was 13 was having some severe emotional problems, that he knew had their roots in some serious issues he had yet to discover. Today he would discover them.
When they arrived he shook hand with the father and chatted politely for a few minutes about the job market, the Chicago Bears, and some other general chit-chat. Kim sat with her eyes staring straight ahead and her arms folded in obvious anger. When he got close to her he knew it was her. He took in all of her pain and it hit him very sharply.
As they sat down they began to go over the old familiar issues. He was avoiding it, knew he was avoiding it, but couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. Still, he knew she was ready today just by the pangs in his chest. After a half-hour it came spilling out easily enough.
“My dad is fucking me,” she said matter of factly, her tone so old it scared him.
“Ok honey, ok,” he said softly, “he’s not going to be doing that anymore if I have anything to say about it.”
The next hour was one of the most awkward of his life. By the sheer nature of his profession he had a “duty to warn” and particularly when a child tells you they are being sexually molested, there is an immediate duty to protect the child. He was sure her story was true, having felt by her emotionally violent nature that this was most likely the case. He dialed the police and began the very long walk to talk to Kim’s father out in the lobby.
The feeling had been almost too much for him to bear. He felt so much for this little girl he felt like he was going to explode. A drink will not help, he explained to himself, you’re just gonna have to work through it. 3 hours later he was drunk.
What happened next was a little difficult to put together. When he drank he turned into someone else. It wasn’t unusual for him to end the night on top of a bar belting out music to a crowded house. It was in a sense a kind of protective identity he fell into to deal with the feelings when they got too powerful. It wasn’t exactly a perfect solution, but it was one that allowed him to balance his very troubled soul in times of crisis. The feelings had been getting stronger lately, and despite the fact that he was now well into his 30’s, he drifted further and further into a regressive adolescence to deal with the feelings when they threatened to overwhelm him.
All of these things raced through his mind as he continued to look at the lump lying in his bed. He peered under the covers and saw that she was fully clothed. A good sign he thought. Then the bed began to rumble and she looked at him with piercing blue eyes.
“I don’t suppose you have anything to eat around here?” she asked in a surprisingly humorous tone.
So they went out for breakfast and talked. Her name was Stephanie and she was a High School teacher who taught English at a school close to his house. They had apparently talked about his feelings and a number of other intimate topics the night before, and she amazingly recited a great deal of this conversation back to him over breakfast. He liked her. Liked her a lot actually, and felt a wave of nausea in his stomach when she told him she lived with her boyfriend.
Still, they talked and laughed for the next hour over breakfast, and he began to remember all of the fun they had the night before drinking and dancing. From the feeling in his stomach he knew this woman was going to be a part of his life, although in what capacity he still had no idea.
“Do you know what an empath is?” she asked mysteriously.