It has happened before, just not so far in as this time around.
Again there is that mix of surprised and anxious and even happy, swallow it down and take it in stride, pass on the urge to start to get excited... then the second you're semi-thinking you're over that hill, bam... emergency room visits, months-long miscarriage, tons of doctors visits, blood test, and hospital stays for the girl.
I guess it is a life event, so I am logging it.
There is this thing about me... I put cigarettes out in my hands, grab things from fires, super glue and stitch wounds shut, am overly calm on my way to the emergency room... I don't demand anesthesia, or pain killers... and when things *should* be emotionally wrong, when I get royally screwed, things go seriously downhill, in the middle of an emergency situation, or in times of great heartbreak... I am still coasting, and rather unresponsive to anything I cannot fix, cannot undo, or do anything about.
I am not unaffected. It simply makes no sense to me to scream when injured, more so it seems silly upping my heart-rate for such things when I am bleeding. There is no amount of tears and beating walls that will ever bring anyone back. There is no point in struggling to save what is already gone. I am no good to anyone if I am not paying attention.
... And mostly, I tend to feel that since I expect nothing good, and am unsurprised by the bad, there is little that hurts me, even when I feel badly that I should - almost to the point of *desiring* it.
I think I have come to the conclusion, that in order to feel that, I must first know what it is like to have some semblance of hope and optimism.
Caring, is there 100%, but it more feels like I am serving as a guide, support, guard... ushering others through all of the bad, and, ideally, on their way. Otherwise, being there, hoping they manage to get safely away from the center of everything wrong, which often... always... seems to be me.