A dear friend, with a tinge of melancholy in his voice, recently remarked how isolated he thinks I have become. I felt slightly off-guard, as though I had fallen down on the job of living normally, which in a way I have.
My friend, who happens to be a psychiatrist, was both correct… and mistaken. Correct, in that I am isolated. Mistaken in how “isolation” (for me) was being interpreted. It also got me thinking, which I am doing a lot of these days.