If I can focus on the data, I can shield myself from the pain.
Maybe if I can reduce the horrific acts of last week to a pile of numbers and mundane facts, I can ignore the rest of it - limit everything to a cerebral accounting of statistics.
Where did it happen? How many were killed, injured? Is the assailant arrested? What type of weapon was used? Data, data, data.
But not all data. Keep the victim information as superficial as possible.
Names? No, please don't give me names or ages. And don't tell me what they were doing. Don't tell me they were just shopping in a grocery store or praying in their house of worship. Don't tell me. I know what it's like to do these things because I do these things. If I allow myself to think about these people it will be easy for me to paint a vivid picture of them living their lives. And that's a problem, because now they aren't just numbers. Now, they're people. People just like me and my neighbors and my family. If I can imagine them shopping or praying, it's only a small step to imagine their terror and pain. If they are so like my neighbors and family, how can I not feel anger or a sense of loss at their murders?
But, maybe that's the point. It feels like these shootings are happening with increasing frequency. It seems like the flag is at half staff more often than full. You barely have time to absorb one tragedy before another one hits you in the gut. The desire to not think too deeply about each one is understandable but, I think, dangerous. We should feel angry and sad and nauseous. We should be uncomfortable. Just because it's happening more often does not make it any less abnormal or disgusting. Going numb is taking the first step on the path of acceptance. And I refuse to accept this.
