October Awareness Month

October is Awareness Month. Awareness of what? Well, let me list a few observances:

Breast cancer, dwarfism, eczema, domestic violence, disability employment, Down syndrome, SIDS, pregnancy and infant loss, liver cancer, Alzheimer’s, lupus, Raynaud’s, selective mutism, dysautonomia, AIDS, celiac sprue, Rett syndrome, hunger, blindness, dyslexia, emotional intelligence, ADHD, diversity, bullying prevention, critical illness, depression, medicine abuse, RSV and spina bifida.

There are a few other things, but those are most of the highlights. All 29 of them. (I don’t count Vegetarian Awareness Month as a highlight.) The exact number varies depending on which website you visit, but that’s the gist of it.

I don’t have anything against awareness. It is important. What does concern me is that everything is compartmentalized, including awareness. It is important to know about these things and how they affect people, but we are practically forced to pick and choose which things to support. Awareness suggests a broader understanding and compassion, but I see only a narrowed field of focus.

Let’s face it; there are a lot of really hard things in life, and a lot of those things are very difficult to learn about. We don’t like feeling uncomfortable, and we don’t like heartache. Our lives revolve around the pursuit of comfort and happiness.

So, unless someone waves a ribbon in front of our faces and forces us to think about statistics and people who have been hurt or killed or isolated by something, we don’t want to do that. Even then, once the designated time for ribbons and awareness walks has passed, we generally go back to ignoring the problem — and nothing changes.

We feel good because we have taken a walk or two and shared some Facebook statuses and maybe had a couple of eye-opening conversations, but, by and large, we close our eyes again at the end of the month or even the day (a lot of causes have only a single day).

Part of the problem is we think in abstractions. We have hundreds, maybe even thousands, of “friends” we have never met, may never meet and rarely, if ever, talk to. We know people from the images and articles they post, not their family and friends and interests.

As such, we increasingly want to categorize things and people. It becomes a really bad habit. Look again at that list of things to be aware of, but this time, think about people when you look at the list.

People with breast cancer. People with Down syndrome. People who have suffered miscarriages or who have lost a child to SIDS. People who have disabilities. People who are blind. People who are bullied or are bullies. People who are depressed.

We are still categorizing. (Although this is still better than saying “depressed people” or “disabled people” or “blind people.”)

Now try inserting a name in there. Think about one person you know. Does that person fit into a single category? Does he? Does she?

Have you defined anyone by a single category?

 I know I have far too often.

Thinking about myself, I’ve lost a family member to breast cancer, I have friends and family members who have suffered miscarriages, I know people with ADHD and doctors thought I would have spina bifida before I was born. In fact, doctors pressured my parents to abort me because they suspected spina bifida. That diagnosis, that one category, could have defined me and my lifespan.

The worst thing is actually that we like to define a person with one category, and if it’s one of the most drastic categories, we define them by that. And thus, you and I are in very real danger of defining people by the one thing they might most want to change in their life.

My grandmother had her doctorate, was a dedicated teacher for her whole life, raised four children and loved traveling the world. But it’s sometimes all too easy to remember her life in terms of her two-year fight with breast cancer. Never mind that she had more than 60 years of life and experiences and struggles and achievements before that.

So we have a tendency to define people by the worst things in their lives, and that becomes a stigma.

No wonder we don’t want to talk about trauma. No wonder we don’t want to get help sometimes. As well-intentioned as it is, “awareness” can become this huge magnifying glass that puts that one aspect of our lives in high definition for the whole world to see, while it allows us to ignore the rest of what makes us human.

We sometimes even fall into the trap of thinking we can change our own identities (again, usually based on a single issue), but we are very complex creatures. And when we start thinking that way, we forget that we and everyone else has myriad strengths and weaknesses and interests and fears and dislikes and passions. And we are in danger of losing our ability to have real relationships.

So be aware, but, even more, care.