Humanity (Pt. 1)

I think possibly the weirdest experience to happen to me in my twenties was when I lost my humanity, and and eventually found it again.

It was as if one day I just woke up and it was no longer there. As if, over the course of years as opportunities or the courage to grasp these chances evaded me or failed to go the way I thought they ought to have gone and, etching away at my person was the silent and unforeseeable loss of my sense of belonging, my connectedness to people at large, of my humanness.

I really cannot recall when it began or what was the precursor to being robbed of the last vestige of hope attributed to the human race.

Perhaps it was when my 20s began looking less like the Girls type narrative that many twenty-somethings dream of in their portfolios: exotic and free-spirited vacations, constant nights out with a loyal group of friends, boyfriend sagas on the regular (lest a dating life!) and a career just starting to reveal promising signs of previously unearthed talent.

Or maybe it was when I falsely assumed as much and self-entitlement began to get the better of me, in part due to a largely neo-liberal education and comfortable existence as a professional student. (I impart no blame mind you- education is such a privilege for which I am blessed and relish)

A likely source of blame could be my growing affection for my cat Mels, who is actually my neighbours' cat, yet who resides almost permanently on our side of the street. Furthermore, contrary to what I otherwise strive to make believe, Mels bears no unique qualities which suggest affection for humankind and in turn rendering the animal world a viable sanctuary for my humanity..

What I do know is that when the troubles of the world were splayed across the media and when I began to really take note and absorb the identities of people flung in all crevices of the globe, the growing social inequality in our society and distress caused by the true acknowledgement that I was not victim of this!, caused my little heart to clench its self tightly, cutting off the blood supply to the logical part of my brain telling me: everything will be ok.

So when I researched the realities of stateless people stranded out to sea, or families who lost a loved one in a motorcycle accident, it was all I could do but shield myself from the suffering that encroached upon my own bleak outlook, pulling me further away from understanding the human experience. It seemed that the oxygen in my blood did not reach my brain, but instead boiled away, fueling a human disconnect in my mind, far beyond the warmth and sanctity of the human spirit.

And so began the loss of my humanity..