I've noticed an empathy for others in my life. But most of the time I am untouched by the suffering of others. I have been this way all my life. Is it something missing in me? Perhaps I'm a born sociopath who still lives a good and honorable life.
It doesn't feel like I'm missing something.
Now that I finally went through with adulthood. I still find myself completely unaffected by the suffering of others. I can think about how bad it is. I can be shocked by it. If I could appear and change it, I would in a heartbeat. But I can also walk away, and carry only my thoughts away. My heart may be bigger, but it is pure. There is no burden.
Perhaps this a strange gift.
Horror doesn't sink into me. Carnage is uniquely interesting. The goals and meaning of my life have no room for anyone except me.... and a beloved. I am made to love one, with all of me. Loyalty is my highest characteristic. It is a gift I can give to only one. (Being without that one is terrible, I cry at night....)
This is part of what makes me so good during a disaster. Highly skilled and motivated to serve, without the devastation of living with what I see, with what becomes imprinted on the brain.
All who know me would consider me "PC," and those who are conservative (there are those) would consider me a "bleeding heart liberal." I share the ideals and values of such. But I am still very different in this one crucial way.
I care intellectually. Very very much. Wherever I am needed, wherever I can make a difference, I want to be there NOW. But I only care about very certain things. Everything else I don't feel emotions about.
Ah, this has to do with the small overlap between myself and what I care about, and the world around me. I care for little of it. But I care very much about certain things. I care about hotshots, their world, their bravery and skill, their sacrifice. So news that a whole group of hotshots were lost in a terrible accident still affects me years later.
When I do care, it is really A LOT.