There was a funny episode on Lake Wobegon that still makes me smile. The man felt terrible, but his wife thought he was faking. He wished he could produce some evidence, you know, messy bodily fluids, to make his case. But nothing came up, or out. She glowered over his aching body. He felt shamed as well as sick. 

One of the good boundaries I learned from a therapist was about physical experience. I cannot really know how someone else feels. If they tell me that they are achy, I don't get to discount that. If they are tired, it doesn't help to judge them. Since many of the internal forces we contend with are invisible, it behooves us to trust one another. 

The other day Benjamin did not take his anti anxiety meds. John and I thought he had, but somehow it got missed in the bustle of the morning. Ben was edgy, and hard to calm down. I tried the usual jokes, and distractions, but nothing helped. When I went to fetch his afternoon pill, to give it early, there was the morning one tapping its toes in the box. 

In a rush of regret and compassion, I handed Benjamin his pill. He had not set out to be ornery. Something courses in his body that neither he nor I can control. Mercifully, there are agents that keep his anxiety at bay. 

Sometimes we are more forgiving if another person's condition can be quantified. Their blood sugar, or temperature, or hypertension give validity to behaviors we don't like. So we support them rather than blame them.

Personally I think it is a test. Can I love someone enough to hear the experience of their own body? Their mental state, their hormones, their level of pain are not mine to dismiss. 

The miracle is, that they might also believe me.