I barely made it out of bed today. I woke up with the start of a migraine sitting like a piece of steel rebar between my temples. Thankfully, Advil and caffeine got me upright and moving towards taking the dog for a much-needed walk. My anxiety has been raging lately and the weather gave me a believable excuse for not getting up and out. Now I had the added bonus of the absurdly bright and beautiful day to keep myself inside as each open window had me shielding my face from the light like Dracula, still hissing but sans cape.

Nevertheless, I managed to get my shoes from the hall rack, a sure sign to the pup that we were heading out, so now I was committed. I thought about changing my clothes, but knew it would derail me so headed out looking a bit like a character from The Walking Dead - you can pick whether I resemble one alive or dead. Depending on your system of measurement, you're correct.

As I started to walk I felt my anxiety take a leap. No rhyme, no reason, the mere result of leaving my house had my skin buzzing like a delicate, papery hive of wasps just barely contained under the surface tissue. It didn't feel good, but I was out and that was something. I talked through my thoughts to see if I could get a handle on the rationale behind this latest jump in blood pressure, and as I lifted my head I saw them. I family of three walking on a cross street as I approached. A woman with long, dark hair that blew gently behind her walked determinedly about twenty feet ahead of a tall, slender man wearing a baby sling with an older infant whose face was nestled close to their dad's chest.

The tension coming from this tiny group was palpable. The man was appearing to catch up with the woman ahead of him in a stilted, hurried way that had me wondering what was said to make her feel the need to create immediate space between him, the baby, and herself. Empathy can do that to you. It can literally manifest itself and transfer outwardly to the people around you. We've all been there - walked in on an uncomfortable conversation or perhaps spent time with someone experiencing true joy or pain. For people like me, it's a double-edged sword. I have a tendency to pick up on these "feelings" more often than I can avoid them. This makes it easier for me to be a caring, compassionate person, but it also puts me in line to experience a lot of the negative emotions that people carry around with them.

Some people think I'm standoffish or aloof when they first meet me, but really I'm most likely just taking your emotional temperature and trying to decide if I can handle picking up what you're putting down. Thankfully, the family turned at the next intersection and I continued straight. Finally feeling the full effect of the Advil with the pain in my head just a dull ache in my left temple like the gentle pressing on a bruise it didn't feel good, but it didn't hurt. I came to a hill and looked ahead where at the very top I saw someone else approaching.

He was clearly an older gentleman with a lovely, round tummy poking out from his shirt and a ring of gray and white hair around his beautiful brown skin. He walked slowly, but with purpose and I hoped that no matter his age, I would still be able to get myself out of the house and be able to continue my daily walks when I was older. Then a flash of color caught my eye. His shoes were brightly colored and it took me a moment to realize that they weren't just colorful, they were two different colors. I immediately smiled and wondered where on earth he had gotten them. Were they a gift from a younger relative to amp up Gramps' style, or maybe a throwback purchase that reminded him of his younger days when he rocked all the slickest kicks? The thought of this older gentleman in his youth made me grin as I wondered if his spouse thought they were amazing or ridiculous.

As we approached each other coming from different directions, my ruminations had me wondering if I should pay him a compliment on his killer fashion choice, and then I saw them. One royal blue and one orange, both with white polka dots, fur-lined Crocs. Crocs. I just about let out an audible giggle as I greeted him warmly and couldn't help wondering at this man out for a purposeful walk on a warm, sunny spring day in his fur-lined, blue and orange polka dot Crocs, how could I reach that level of "I don't give a fuck"? He certainly looked like a happy dude just enjoying his day and I was glad for him.

As we reached the top of the hill and turned to go down another, heading up towards us was a woman on a jog. She was dressed all in black in a sports bra and Lycra shorts and had a look on her face that said, "I will not be beaten," a reasonable response to the incline of the hill that I was currently heading down and she had yet to conquer. But as she got closer I felt something different. The lines on her forehead were knitted together not in determination, but in anger. She was pissed. About what? I have no idea, but I can tell you that anger emanating from someone is pretty unmistakable. When I'm angry myself, it almost feels like panic. It builds in me to the point where I feel like I'm vibrating and this woman was nearly a blur on the anger chart. I tried to make eye contact and offer her a smile and greeting and she was nearly past me when my presence even registered. She gave me a quick side nod and lifted her lips and then she was gone.

It was just me and the dog once more. The waves of anxiety that I had left the house with were definitely subsiding and I felt better than I had already, although my poor dog who had gone nearly three days without her daily constitutional was struggling on the unusually warm day and decided that we needed to take a break. She told me this by simply laying down in the grass and refusing to move. I like to call this move "dropping anchor" as I am sometimes unaware of her intentions to come to a full stop and only realize it when I'm yanked backward by a sudden immobile force of 70 pounds attached to the leash in my hand.

I give her a minute to catch her breath as it is, after all, my fault that she's become abruptly out of shape and we continue on. A high-pitched bark draws my attention ahead of us and I see two women with dogs on leashes passing each other. One is a poodle mix of some kind and the other appears to be a Frenchie. The smaller Frenchie is leaning on a fully taught leash and ignoring his owner's efforts to move on with their walk. Eventually, the poodle has moved off far enough that the Frenchie has lost interest, but continues to strain at the lead and pull its owner off balance. Wonderful, I think to myself, they're turning down the same way we're heading. My heart rate picks up a tic, but I thank my lucky stars that the pupper is behaving beautifully today so my fears are minimal.

As we get closer to the woman and the Frenchie, the dog notices us and immediately starts to lunge and pull on the leash, going so far as to back up and leap forward in an effort to reach and identify this strange "other" dog. I feel immediately annoyed and slightly smug as my lovely girl is not reacting at all when all of a sudden she runs forward to the other dog, nearly taking me off my feet. I reel her back into a heel and we keep walking as I make eye contact with the Frenchie's owner. She looks exhausted and run down despite her bright, clean tank top and Lulu Lemon leggings. She's still trying to get the dog to chill out and I'm immediately sorry for whatever difficulty she's experiencing that has her so frustrated. Perhaps I've just met a kindred spirit just doing their best to get their ass out of bed and adulting each and every day? I wish her well and head toward home.

When we reach our street I'm definitely feeling better and even a bit inspired which is a glorious change from how I woke up. I'm not 100%, but I've made progress. There are a few people out in front of their houses, some weeding, one gently planting some spring flowers, and another working on cleaning out their garage. Everyone with a sense of determination about their chore. A silver van is driving in my direction and I step onto the sidewalk as I hear a bright and cheery, "Hello!" coming from the van. I look up and see a smiling boy leaning out his window, excitedly waving, and another on the other side of the van doing the same. They are grinning ear to ear and their joy is palpable, even more so when one of the neighbors turns to smile and wave back.

I think, "How sweet! They must know each other." But as they get closer, the little boy on my side looks right at me and yells, "HELLO!" I'm certain I don't know him, but as I take in his bright, white teeth (showing an adorable gap not yet closed by braces) and his eyes that are squinted in the sunlight, I can't help but immediately smile back, wave and yell, "HELLO!" Somehow his smile got even bigger and as I walked the rest of the short distance home I got to hear two more enthusiastic HELLOs as they continued down the street, radiating simple, uncomplicated happiness at greeting strangers with a smile.

What had started out as an effort to simply "get through" ended with a feeling of appreciation. I'm not always right about what people are feeling. We're complicated humans and our emotions are even more so. There is lots of room for error. But being this empathetic, or as some say "sensitive," is not an easy way to go through life. It impacts you in endless ways that you can't control and on bad days makes you feel like you cannot bear the pain of the world and its injustices. But on some days, like today, it reminds you that joy can be simple, kindness requires little effort, and it is always, always worth it to get out of the house and take a walk.