Compassion

You know the feeling. A friend calls, a colleague drops by, a family member writes. They tell you — about their illness, their loneliness, their misfortune, their trouble with their partner, their boss, their fate. And you listen. You really listen. You let everything in. And when the conversation is over, you hang up or close the door and notice: you are empty. Drained. Tired in a way that has nothing to do with physical exertion.

Some people feel this after a single encounter. Others carry it as a baseline state — a chronic exhaustion, a soft heaviness, a tendency to develop exactly the complaints they have felt so intensely in others. The mother's back pain. The sister's anxiety. The best friend's migraines. The body copies what the soul cannot let go.