Today I talked to a friend who is sick. He told me that last night, he had a very hard time sleeping because he was sore and achy and hurt all over. He said he just couldn't get comfortable and he finally got up out of bed and sat up most of the night, aching. And then he said that during the long, uncomfortable night, he thought of me, of how that's how almost every night is for me.
And I was touched. Really touched.
For the most part, I don't want people to feel sorry for me. Once in a while, maybe I do. Once in a while, I feel sorry for myself. I admit it.
But empathy is a different thing. I'm not sure how it helps me, really, to know that in the middle of the night, my sick friend thought of me. But it does. Maybe it's just that he got it. I feel like most of the time, no one really gets it. There's something nice about knowing someone understands. I feel a little less alone.