Hating Myself for Haiti

All joy or sorrow for the happiness or calamities of others is produced by an act of the imagination, that realizes the event however fictitious, or approximates it however remote, by placing us, for a time, in the condition of him whose fortune we contemplate; so that we feel, while the deception lasts, whatever motions would be excited by the same good or evil happening to ourselves.
~ Samuel Johnson, 1750

Anybody else feeling guilty that they don't live in Haiti?

I'm no stranger to guilt (funny that it seems to bring out the Samuel Johnson in me). It comes in two varieties: feeling guilty over something I've done/not done, which leads to the ol' "whew, you certainly screwed that up, didn't you?" nighttime lullaby, or feeling guilty that I'm somehow better off than someone else.

Which means that what with the images and stories flooding in from Haiti right now, my inner dialogue is going something like this:

"Aw, nuts, I missed my bus again."

At least you have a bus to miss. And a job to which you can be late. They don't even have jobs in Haiti right now.

"Awesome - they really listened when I said 'extra beans' in my Chipotle Vegetarian Bowl."

People in Haiti haven't eaten for 13 days.

"So glad it's Friday - can't wait to sleep in tomorrow."

Nobody's sleeping in Haiti.

"Hmmm, bit of a headache. Wonder if I should take an Advil?"

They ran out of antibiotics in Haiti.

"You know, I really like my job."

No antibiotics = gangrenous limbs.

"Look how cute my kids are, coming in from school! Hugs and kisses all around!"

They're amputating limbs in Haiti...

"Yay - Netflix movies arrived just in time!"

...in the streets...

"Wonder if The Husband will be mad if the kids invite friends over on Sunday while he's watching the Vikings?"

...without anaesthetic.

I don't think it's guilt over feeling I've left something undone. We've donated, we're praying, we're trying to be the change we wish to see in the world by being gracious to those around us, volunteering our time, being grateful for what we have...all the things I'd advise someone to do if they asked me how they could help a terrible situation so far away.

So why isn't it enough? Why this underlying anxiety and discomfort with my own life? Is it a sense that there's a "guilt tax" to pay when you know you didn't get the short straw? (Seriously - how Mennonite is that?)

Maybe it's just trying to wrap my head around the immeasurable gulf between the hell on earth that is Haiti and the comparative paradise of my life and, in the face of unimaginable suffering, a sorrow borne out of frustration, a sense of powerlessness, and the knowledge that these images merely put a face on suffering and pain that exists all around this world and to which I unknowingly and unwillingly but nonetheless definitely contribute.

Sorry everyone, bit of a downer post to send you into your weekend.

Not so much of a downer as it would be to live in Haiti. Terrified orphans, bereaved parents, squalid refugee camps reeking of fear and groaning with pain and hunger, and you're worried about depressing your readers?

(See what I mean?)