Terrorism

I can't help feeling sorry for that young Nigerian man who set fire to himself trying to blow up the plane on Christmas Day. All the pictures they show of him feature his sad eyes. Even when his mouth is curved slightly in a smile, his big eyes are just so devoid of happiness that it hurts to look at them. I don't in the least condone what he did, but he is one troubled and miserable young man.

This is a theory, and it applies as much to me, myself, and I as it does to anyone else. Some mental illness, some depression--not all--can be cured by becoming interested in other people and trying hard to increase or improve others' knowledge, joy, or lives in general. If one's focus is totally on oneself, as so often happens with young people whose life experiences are limited, then that inward focus creates self-obsession and selfishness. The greater the focus on oneself, the deeper the narcissistic depression. The person thinks about him/herself constantly, never able to cast a wider net. I was there. It happened to me. When my son Stephen was an infant, and I was alone so much while my husband worked, I became depressed, agoraphobic, and suicidal. When I began to realize that I had the ability to affect other people's lives in a good way, then I began to recover.

It's possible that others find my constant efforts to make other people feel good about themselves to be fake or insincere. Not at all true. It pleases me to find the good in others, and it pleases me even further to point it out, to compliment people on what I've noticed. It's odd, but being able to say something nice to someone keeps me from thinking about the flaws I possess. That used to be all I thought about. Not a day went by that I didn't pick myself apart and list my flaws and focus on how misfit I was. Now that I deliberately focus on others, I'm happy most of the time.

Of course, no one would ever name me "Little Sharon Sunshine," but I do my best to make other people feel good about themselves, and I think it works. Students often recall for years the little things I say to them: "You are so stylish," or "You are very graceful," or "I'll bet your mother is proud of having such a kind-hearted son/daughter." Somehow I suspect that our young terrorist fits into two categories: (1) he thinks constantly about himself and seldom about others, and (2) his family and friends have never been especially accepting of him. Sounds contradictory, but the most well-adjusted people I've ever known (like my husband) always put others first and yet have strong self-confidence and self-esteem. If one cannot love him/herself, one cannot love others.