Let me just flat-out admit it before you begin speculating: Social empathy and interactions is more challenging for me than most people. There's a certain term for people like me that I'll actually leave the speculating up for you, but I legitimately had to be taught what it means to care for others when I was a young buck. Sounds twisted, doesn't it? I assure you it's nothing like what you're assuming, there were just spots in my childhood where I could talk to you all day about Sonic the Hedgehog and how Tony Tony Chopper is my favorite character off One Piece, and if you were to try and tell me your interests, I just wouldn't give a hoot. I don't know how else to put it; I vividly recount a conversation in elementary school and the Lego Star Wars video game had just came out (that game was too lit), my little circle of friends were all hyped about it, sharing all the latest information from the game magazines the after-school program providing. Thing is, young Chuck couldn't give less of a f*ck. I was too focused on my own anticipated releases - I think One Piece was coming out with their own respective game at the time - to really indulge in their excitement, so when they asked me what I thought about it, I don't know the exact words, but what I said was enough to estrange me from the group. Not only was my indifference blatant, but the way I would remind people how much I didn't care made it seem like I put myself on this pedestal, and they were inferior.
This trend continued for the next couple of years, me being indifferent or apathetic towards other people’s interests and hobbies-- lost some key friendships because of it. I had a close friend - his name was Nick, hope he’s doing well - down in Tampa, Florida, when I was in the 3rd and 4th grade and I want to say the only reason we were so close was because we had the same taste in video games. But other than that, I steamrolled over his family traditions on numerous occasions, unbeknownst to me of course; whether it was leaving his mother alone so she can cook in peace, or whether it was me going upstairs with my shoes on, if there was a circumstantial norm or tradition, Chuck was stepping all over it. Luckily, Nick was able to overlook my shortcomings and went on to become somebody I hold near and dear in my heart. Actually, in hindsight, I’m pretty sure Nick was my first step towards learning how to empathize with others, see as to how annoyed or frustrated he would get at me if I repeatedly betrayed a norm in his household. I’ll never forget, he was blowing a gasket and he asked me: “How would you like it if I *insert whatever I did here*?! Huh?! How would you like it?!”.
I wouldn’t like it. In fact, I would’ve been doing the same thing he was doing, but tenfold. So from that point out, every norm, every little rule, I was abiding. I wasn’t going to continue to upset my only friend, I refused to let it happen. At first it was frustrating keeping up with their house rules, actually it wasn’t frustrating-- it wasn’t asinine in my eyes. I don’t have to take my shoes off at my house, why should I do it here? But those thoughts left my mind after remembering how hurt Nick was, after the brief recall, I found myself obliging with aplomb. Y’know, screw what makes me comfortable, these people are letting me into their house, letting me breathe their air and eat their food-- Chuck better start coming correct!
Everything became so much easier when I started doing it for the betterment of those around me, for the comfort of those. Not only did this sort of empathy (or compassion, if you will) enhance my eternal and mental strength, it would also prove to enhance my physical strength. Just ask Charles Thomas Jr, aka my “dad”. I’ll never forget the day, we were still in Florida and him and my mother had been going through some type of ordeal for the past couple of days, half the house was packed and my dad had just woken up from a nap. I was 9 at the time, I believe I was coming out of the bathroom when I heard him barge into the computer room - where my Mom was at - at shut the door. I can remember the wood splitting, such was the force he slammed the door. I also knew it was going to be another one of those arguments, but for some reason the door was locked. I had no way in and the best I could do is hold my ear against the door, that’s when I heard the thrashing and loud, sudden bumps beating against the wall. I knew what was happening, and in the past my dad use to refer to these type of arguments as “Grown folk” business, but you see, Chuck’s a momma’s boy. The urgency I feel coming from my mother, who was in clear need of help, resonated within me as I busted through the door to find father ringing her with some white shirt. Remember what I said about the physical strength empathy and compassion gives me? The 9 year old me sure did, still diminutive in size, I pounced my father and got him to let go of my mother, who he was still after. It just wasn’t happening though, I held onto one of his legs, making him fall thus angering him even more. He tried getting me off of him, but there was no way I was going to let me keep coming at my mom, so I absorbed all I could before I finally yelled out: “Don’t you see this is tearing us apart?!”
I always refer to that day as the day I found my strength as a person, as a man. The day I finally figured out what “compassion” is and what it can do to a man. Compassion, to me, is one of the greatest sources of strength. I don’t know how to articulate it, but when I really care for somebody there is nothing I won’t do or say; be it something you want to hear or need to hear, something that needs to be done because circumstances prevent you from doing it yourself if you’re in Chuck’s heart, there is simply nothing he won’t do. Not only is it cathartic knowing the effect you have on people, but it’s cathartic seeing their reactions and how better off they are now that the figurative weight is now off their shoulders. You’re supposed to look out for yours, in any way, shape, or form. It should never be a question.
