Pity parties and Srebrenica
Kasia November 14th, 2008
There’s a title for the ages…
It hit me this morning as I was driving to work. The last few days - well, really, almost a week - I’d been having little pity parties. Poor me this, I’m so ill-used that. You know. We all have them - at least, every person I know does - and hopefully we do our best to keep them to a minimum and in reasonable check.
When I was finishing my undergrad, I was researching a paper that dealt with the Serbian Orthodox Church’s responses to the fragmentation of Yugoslavia. I never ended up writing the paper - long story. However, the research I was doing included delving into a lot of European news services of the time, and reading all the stories related to the conflict and the region more generally. (I was looking for evidence of whether the church had spoken out, and if so, what had been said.)
Anyway. So I’m burying myself in news reports of the time, which (not surprisingly) are dripping with quotes from Serb leaders from Milosevic on down, plus the commentary from the church (which was, also unsurprisingly, pretty Serb-friendly), all of which goes on and on about how the Serbs are the real victims here, yadda yadda.
When you’re that immersed in propaganda, it’s hard to keep perspective. At one point I found myself getting very indignant on behalf of the poor beleaguered Serbs. I mean, what did they really do, anyway?
And then I shook myself and said, “Hello, self - Srebrenica?!?!” (Among other things, of course, but that was the one that jarred me back to reality.)
Now, my point isn’t that we should all hate on the Serbs. My point is that, given sufficient exposure to deceit, one can sometimes succumb to it and deceive oneself. Sometimes one needs a reality check.
And that’s what I’d been doing with my little pity parties.
So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sit down and make myself remember at least a dozen big blessings in my life. I have a job, for one, and it’s even one that I like. I have a roof over my head, and a car to drive between home and work (and hey, gas prices are down!). Food in my cupboards and the ability to buy more. A much-beloved fiancé, who has already received his visa to come here and marry me. The freedom to marry him in our church, without having to post guards at the door to tell us if government agents are coming to shut down the service and arrest the attendees. Family and friends whom I love and who love me. Two very sweet, very affectionate (if sometimes obnoxious) cats, and several more critters in my extended family. The prospect of children. Both parents (and step-parents) still living and reasonably healthy.
And that’s just a start. Anything I might have to complain about seems pretty meager compared to all that.
