Friday I was in a severe funk. For some reason I wanted to make a phone call to someone apologizing for my existence, and further apologizing for not having offed myself. A dark few hours, but not the worst I have felt (the fact that it lifted proves it wasn’t quite as bad).
So I finished work and made it home, and my housemate (who had broken her hip the week before and just started therapy) was complaining of pain so severe that she was wishing he had had a heart attack that killed her instead.
So had I gotten to the point that I now shared her emotions?
Surely I had no idea that she had had the hip break when it happened. I found out about it when she called a half hour later, saying she fell but things would be okay. And then, I figured it had been a ministroke (she had the real thing seven years ago, enough to force an early retirement from her job as a legal secretary). And besides, I’ve known depression for so long I just slog through it nowadays, getting a few extra hours of sleep in the night (trust me, sleep helps).
But still, it bugs me. Maybe she didn’t know anything happened and thus didn’t know to tell me telepathically. And besides, I had called her a few times earlier that week, for some strange reason.
Stuff to think about….