Searching

Years ago at IU, I was walking with two friends along one of the roads that borders the campus. It was a drizzly evening, not unlike tonight. I don't remember where we were coming from or even where we were going (probably Steak 'n Shake). I saw a wet yellow envelope in the gutter, the universal envelope of a parking ticket. When I looked inside, the ticket was still there.

Thinking it must have gone unnoticed and some college student would get an outstanding ticket, I started to pocket it to pay when I got home (it wasn't much). One of my friends asked what I was doing and snatched it out of my hand. He ripped it up and threw it into the bushes, asking why I would do that- he probably deserved it. The friend wasn't exactly a mean-spirited kid, just a punk. I was incredulous and didn't say anything more about the ticket. I didn't forget and it's like those childhood memories with no apparent context that randomly come to mind.

The short memory of having it quickly torn from my hand, ripped, and thrown aside to the sound of laughter has been on my mind tonight. Maybe there is a context for it after all, and maybe I've figured it out. I've been told a number of times by friends in various ways that I have to separate myself emotionally from work. I reassure myself that I'm doing a good job progressing in that department, but it's taking a lot of time. I'm taking the patient situation the other night hard. 

I don't consider myself a particularly empathetic person, at least compared to a lot of nurses. I mean, I have empathy, but I never considered myself a touchy-feely person. My mom and sister are better in touch with their emotions. So have I tricked myself so well all these years or is it something else?