I am at work. I’m a scientist. I’m a professional. My job is not to sit here writing down my feelings. I work with databases and it’s about as unemotional as it comes. Yet I’m compelled to write this now because I’m fighting back tears and there’s an uncomfortable, sickening feeling in my chest and a lump in my throat that won’t go away.
You know the one. My office has large glass windows, and the IT guy is looking at me and pretending not to notice my red eyes. You see, I am a professional, but I’m also a mother. Today I don’t want to push the emotion away and move on back to my comfortable space. And the catalyst is a dead child’s pink pyjamas.
It started during a few moments of procrastination this morning – a quick check of my twitter feed. A link to an article on the recent massacre in Houla* appeared. It interested me because I’ve been ruminating on whether social media is really useful in generating not just social awareness but real social change, e.g. Kony-style campaigns.
I also clicked on it above other links to articles in my short space of procrastination time because I, like many others, have been horrified, disgusted and, if I am truly honest, morbidly fascinated, with how on earth this type of massacre involving so many children killed at close range could occur.