In Grace on the River Paths

Several times I’ve run across information about the subconscious not being able to tell the difference between seeing violence in life and seeing it in a film. The images one sees are said to be imprinted on your subconscious forever. I tend to believe that but like so many other things in life we have to make choices. We’re here to live life not practice as much avoidance as we can.
I barely watched television from 1970 to 2005. I was doing other things. All those shows that are part of people’s history like Friends and Seinfeld and Cheers and Lost—don’t know much about them. That added to my weirdness factor in the eyes of my peers and co-workers back in the day. Fashion trends, slang and cultural references–I had few clues.
Then when my life changed drastically and I had more time on my hands and not much energy to do things, I began watching television shows. Mostly through Netflix which helped me survive a bleak winter. Now I much prefer watching marathons or a whole season at a time instead of waiting for an episode of something.
It was quite a shock when began watching television again. My goodness, it had changed. As an empath who picks up things as though they were my own energy when they certainly are not, I was careful about what I exposed myself to at first.
One thing that fascinated me in the beginning was how sophisticated some of the writing was, as though the viewer had some degree of intelligence. Not everything obvious had to be laboriously pointed out. I said some writing. Of course there are many lame, stupid shows.
And it wasn’t as though I’d never seen any television during those years. It would be on in the background at someone’s house but I never could get drawn into it. The noise bothered me.
There was a writer I liked who was on Oprah one time and a friend invited me over to watch the show. I was disappointed and horrified at the pacing of it and how Oprah would interrupt and not let the guy talk. Everything seemed so on-the-surface and, of course, that must be normal. No one is going to watch an in-depth, intimate conversation about ideas. Except for me and maybe a few other weird people I’ve never met. It made me want to jump out of my skin. And that’s almost nothing compared to The View.
When I was ill and lonely a few years ago and missed humanity (in theory), I subscribed to Netflix shows and later watched television on the internet with the caution of knowing the images would be in my subconscious forever. (Although I believe everything can eventually be healed.)
And I ended up deliberately choosing shows that could be considered gross or violent or graphic like Burn Notice and Bones over shows where smart-ass, snarky, hip people stabbed each other in the back, displayed rudeness, lack of compassion and made fun of each other’s big butts and weak chins. Seriously. I would rather watch Fiona and Sam blow up a building that watch some office worker make a cutting, harsh remark to a co-worker.
Even though some of those shows can be graphic, I like the dialogue and the relationships–people caring about each other and having each other’s backs. Yes, I know it’s not real but if I’m going to be having something in my subconscious as though it were real, I don’t want it to be stupid, mean, everyday people. Anyway, it’s boring to watch and cheap. I’d rather see compassionate, friendly people (like me).
Except now that I’m having this adrenaline thing going on, I need to avoid that kind of suspense and excitement in my viewing.
I enjoy the character, Dr. House, but as someone who has had health issues that show is traumatizing. Half of it I spend cringing and closing my eyes. Don’t tell anyone but I can’t stand to watch someone put eyedrops in. I have to look away when someone is applying mascara too.
And yet there are people walking around with the sensitivity of a post and I guess I wouldn’t trade who I am for that.