Utilitarianism
Dec
'04
So we were learning about utilitarianism in Philosophy class on Wednesday and it made me think that maybe the people in my life who are liars aren’t liars after all… Maybe they are just utilitarian, often at my expense. Another created positive way of looking at life so I won’t be upset when people break their promises, I guess. Greater good, and all of that…General happiness. I suppose it just makes me out to be a pseudo-hero, giving up my wants and needs and therefore some happinesses with qualities like patience and understanding, so that someone I’ve never met (and probably won’t) can be happy because someone who says they’re sorry lies to me about one thing or another (and well, sometimes I don’t even get the sorry). Then it kind of made me think of my qualities. Why am I patient and forgiving and understanding? Why, with such constant exposure to it, do I continue to be this pseudo-hero and make up excuses for people who probably don’t deserve it? “A promise is a promise,” right? It kind of did that memory trigger thing. Crying in my parents’ bedroom, maybe 11 or 12 years old. I can’t recall the reason, but I suppose at that point I was crying often without reason anyway. My life up to that point. I heard footsteps and my brother entered the room. He saw me on the floor of the bedroom while he was standing in the doorway holding a bowl of ice cream. I think it was chocolate chip. He asked what happened, and through sobs and tears I told him it was nothing and that he shouldn’t bother himself with it, and to go away. He pushes it and I push back, and the end result was him throwing the ice cream at me, bowl and all. He gave me one of those hard angry stares you never want to see from people, and while in a raised voice saying “what’s wrong?” over and over, I remember he kicked me. At the time I was devastated. My own brother, who was supposed to be the understanding, caring one because our parents were never around. My older brother who couldn’t help me and wouldn’t even try, and in fact kicked me while I was down (literally). I thought about this incident once during therapy. My therapist had seen him about a year before I started going and she told me our reasons for being upset were probably the same, except he was angry while I was depressed. I hadn’t held a grudge against him or anything. He was just frustrated, I realized as Michelle recounted some emotions he conveyed to her during their sessions. His words were confidential of course, but she told me he was angry and he once mentioned he noticed I was sad. He couldn’t help me, he couldn’t do anything, and he didn’t know how to react. He danced for the anger and threw the ice cream at me, frustrated his little sister was on the floor sad and there was nothing he could do for her; the same way I amused the sadness, feeling lost and alone like no one would ever understand me simply because my brother did that one thing. And remembering this realization in Philosophy class on Wednesday, I understood the whole forgiving/understanding thing. He didn’t want to hurt me, he was just frustrated he couldn’t help me. He didn’t know what to do. And I assumed he was only doing it to hurt me. How far off was I then? How much do I wish I could rewind my life and tell him that day, “Thank you for bringing me ice cream, and thank you for trying.” He gave up on me, just like everyone else did. But I definitely forgave him, I understood (in time) and I never held it against him. And I don’t hold grudges. I hardly ever remember the things people do to me. Every so often I will remember something someone said, if it really hit me and really hurt me, but I still don’t hold it against them.
I guess I’m only mentioning it because people always say they like this about me.
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