I met a man recently who is an obese diabetic and when I made his acquaintance he had been drinking whiskey all night. When I arrived at his home at 11:30 AM, he was still drunk. Or he was drinking that early in the day and had made himself drunk before noon. The man was sweating profusely despite the morning coolness. He's going to die soon, I think. He is doing this to himself. I felt disgusted by him.
All of us partake of particular vices. I share at least one with this man - I like my beer and whatnot. My boss and I share an affinity for cigars. I eat a lot of red meat and I enjoy every bloody drop. I hang out in the sun and sometimes I remember to wear sunscreen. I listen to music loud enough to damage my hearing. I frequently do not sleep as much as I should because I don't feel like going to bed.
On this basis, many would call me a hypocrite, specifically because I find this man's behavior revolting while I in turn engage in activities that can lead to ill effects. I maintain that such people are confused. While it is true that some of the things I've admitted to above could lead to problems such as those affecting the individual I met, there's a key difference: I have not developed any of the potential problems of these things and a chance exists that I will never develop them, while he has. Since I have not suffered any ill effects of my vices, I cannot be compared with someone who has become broken by them but who continues to indulge. Why? Because I would stop them immediately should they become detrimental. Weak minded people, on the other hand, simply cannot do this.
In the past, and even now, I feel a collision of my urge to pity the individual - a desire to "know their story" so as to explain (i.e. rationalize) their behavior - with my urge to despise them for acting as they do. Lately I've come to realize that the former sentiment is one I've been allowing myself for stupid reasons. A situation like this one is a prime example. The reason is that the latter, my urge to despise this person, is a result of my realization that despite the "story" this person has, this is a person. I met a human being who ought to be in possession of the potential of a human being, which should include a rational element fully capable of and inherently interested in self preservation, at least to the extent of avoiding self destruction (meaning even if an altruist toward others, one who would not deliberately destroy him/herself for the sake of nothing). That is why the "story," I am beginning to realize, is unimportant; more so, an overt concern with it is a vestige of the liberal weakness I got infected with at one point - these things I am eradicating from my mind. The truth of the matter is that the common thread throughout the "story" is that the main actor is and always has been a human. Therefore, what excuse is there for this suicidal nonsense? None. And as such, what reason is there for deserving pity? Again, none. Pity is only appropriately given to those who are victims of things beyond their control, never for people who deliberately break themselves, for any reason.
But I stop short of hate. That is where one errs too far in the other direction. I do not pity this man, but I do not hate him. And it would be a waste of energy to do so, too. So what to do?
Learn. It's as simple as that, I think. I may meet this individual again in the future, and I will keep an eye on his decline. Maybe he will reverse course, maybe not. I will watch him as a warning to myself. He will go through the mine field first, and I won't step in the places where he gets blown up.
Meeting people like this can be so useful and good in this way.
But I still feel disgusted.
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