DESENSITIZTION: to make somebody less
responsive to an overwhelming fear by repeated exposure to the feared situation
or object, either in natural or artificial circumstances.
I had an outstanding visit with my mom
this past weekend. The intensity of the day was spent discussing preparations
for our permanent relocation back to Boston. It’s taken some time but I feel as
though we are finally on the same page when it comes to comingling our goals.
At one point, we discussed that she
will be leaving neonatal/pediatric medicine and returning to the adult trauma
department. This was her original specialty and I think she is looking forward
to returning to it. I asked if she felt ready for the ‘blood and guts’ again.
She inferred that she was definitely ready… that the tolerance for it never
really went away. Re-facilitating the ability to compartmentalize all of that
was relatively easy for her. It was a thought provoking statement for me to
hear her say.
I have been struggling with my own
realization of just how desensitized I have become over the years of being
incarcerated. In fact, I have gone to great lengths to try an hide it from
people who are very close to me. I truly fear that they would think that
something is drastically wrong with me. Worse yet, I feel that I would be
deemed ‘institutionalized’ or psychopathic by those who I love most.
The truth is that I have lost that
basic human emotion/reaction when witnessing physical abuse and/or brutality. I
know how that must sound because it feels horrible just saying it. Unfortunately,
I have seen things that are simply unforgettable. I must compartmentalize them
and believe me I do. But they are there still… buried in the back of my mind.
For me, I am able to consciously
decide what I choose to care about. There are things that are off limits of
course, like my friends and family. I will never be able to tolerate any type
of harm or malicious behavior aimed at them. Aside from them though, I can
easily classify any act of violence and essentially choose to not care about it
– or feel anything.
I do not like the fact that I am able
to do this, let alone be successful at it. It is not natural. It is a trained
character trait that I have developed due to an over exposure to violence. I
accept the fact that there is a high chance that I will return to the way that
I once was. Still, I like to believe that after some time, back in society,
that those feelings and emotions will eventually come back and I will be able
to react accordingly when exposed to violence.
When I explained this to my mom, she
diid her best to ease my mind, explianingthat the adaption I have experienced
was a means to survival. It had to happen in order for me to continue to move
forward within each day. I know that she is right, but that doesn’t make me
feel better about it. In fact, that was kind of frightening.
“Adapt, live or die, right?: It should
be the mission statement for all high custody prisons.
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