How much suffering must one endure for complaining to be acceptable?
I thought I had the answer to this question. My answer was any suffering gives you a pass to bitch and moan to your friends. Venting is a natural therapy.
My theory was rocked in the wake of Hurricane Sandy. Devastation was seen everywhere. The media captured pictures of houses washed away or burnt down. Images of mammoth trees lying on streets, houses and cars were captured. The truth is I didn’t need to tune into the news to see these pictures. I need not look further than my own neighborhood. The destruction was not only felt by strangers but by people I know, my own sister and countless friends. It was as if I was living in a perpetual out-of-body state.
Hurricane Katrina was still fresh in my mind. I remember videos streamed in from New Orleans showing people’s houses flooded and destroyed and where streets became streams. I remember listening to NOLA folks beg for deployment of the National Guard to keep a sense of order and how these same people said FEMA helped them. Those faraway places were now my places. The National Guard were at my gas stations. My sister’s car was submerged in ocean water and I listened to her speak on the phone to FEMA. The same FEMA I heard discussed in New Orleans. My sister is one of the thousands displaced from this storm. The only thing missing in my town was a Superdome (thank God).
The testimonials from friends were endlesss. They spoke of losing their cars, basements, belongings and entire houses. Their lives were reduced to the garbage they put out on the curb. Each house I drove past having piles of debris, told a story. It told their story. The toys, furniture, clothing drenched with flood waters and mud were left for all to see. It was depressing to see and more depressing for those living through it. Recovery will be slow moving but imminent. Their suffering is colossal.
Where do I fit into this picture? In this storm I lost electricity for seven days. That’s nothing to sneeze at. Standing on its own, one would consider this a great loss. The nights were getting colder and there was no heat. I was lucky enough to have a generator but don’t be deceived; power was still limited. My house became a safe haven for some of the families I previously wrote about. We ate meals together, complained together and even laughed together. My suffering wasn’t nearly as great as those earlier mentioned but I thought living without power on frigid nights for seven days was suffering nonetheless. Factor in the gas shortage and well, I thought it was more than acceptable to announce my grievances. On Facebook, people were posting statuses daily of their individual circumstances and suffering. I joined in.
My complaining did come with a disclaimer and I found I was not alone in this sense. I, like many others would say, “this is what happened to me (fill in the blank), but I’m lucky compared to others”. That my friends was guilt speaking. We didn’t want to be deemed self-absorbed or thoughtless.
Not long after, a Facebook “friend” (since defriended) spewed a long winded status how she is sick of hearing people complain of having no power when people have lost their homes. How dare we complain of such inconveniences? I digested this information and self-reflected. Was I insensitive to those who were in a critical state of loss? It was only two days prior, when this same self-righteous (oops did I say that out loud) “friend” bitched out on her status that her transformer blew and she didn’t have power. What gave her the right to now be the Facebook status police, tongue lashing those who complained just as she had earlier?
I paused considering all before me. Did my own complaining of my circumstances automatically disqualify me as a caring, compassionate, empathetic person? Did this same whining devoid me of any and all good deeds I had previously done for this is how I was made to feel? I became irate in my thoughts. A friend had the perfect analogy (which I am sure to repeat until the end of time, when needed) and I want to share it with you. If someone’s leg is cut off, it is painful and hurts. If someone’s finger is cut off, it is painful and hurts. The finger is less of a loss than the leg but nonetheless it still hurts and still entails suffering. Suffering comes in many forms. There will always be someone that hurts more or less than you, but compassion is for everyone. In retrospect, all I really wanted to say is “this sucks” and for a friend to agree without judgment.
CINDAWENDA 