on the way home from the burial ceremony, i stopped at the drug store for a chocolate bar so i could properly eat my feelings. the cashier checked me out and after our transaction, asked me how i was doing. i said, “ok. how are you?”
she told me her hand was messed up. she continued, “my cousin died and i just heard they got the body home. i clenched my hand and now it’s messed up.”
this keeps happening to me. strangers tell me personal stuff and the therapist in me always holds back, mindful of not disclosing my own shit inappropriately. why can’t i be that over-disclosing stranger, spilling my guts about how i could totally relate?
instead i just told her i was sorry, my face full of genuine empathy. “yeah… nothing is forever,” she answered, and moved along to the next customer.