But other things had changed. I'd run the gamut of moods. A couple days earlier, pouring samples of cider for a few hundred people for an evening, I had a smile that must have seemed plastered to my face. It was real, though. I was happy to be there, happy to chat with people, happy to be doing what I was doing. Days before, I'd felt the urge to cry for no discernible reason. And there were other things, things I'd still not managed to fully wrap my head around. Things if you'd asked me even a year ago about I would have laughed at you for.
Probably not all the changes were directly related to the hormonal changes, but they hadn't come gradually for me; It was a none to all transition. More jarring for me, perhaps, than for those who more gradually started producing those hormones, and hopefully eventually had a somewhat gradual decline in those hormones. How much, though, did we, collectively, make fun of people for their failures to deal with their changing physiology while on those ramps? I'd surely been guilty of it. Empathy is easier than sympathy, I suppose. Or maybe, ironically, my own changes had made me more sympathetic.
Step 81: That someone's problem is incomprehensible to you does not lessen the impact of it. Practice sympathy, even if practice does not make perfect.