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<center>![Desaturated.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/emma-h2/EoptSi8tLqaD1nTQVXYSwYXWFLbVaqkbSMBvZUWboC35VUx3xTKrjP8iScZ6fTEDcBM.png)</center>

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*Synchronicity is basically coincidences with a meaning. That synchronicity is in our lives to help us get in touch with our loved ones and also refine our intuition.*

<div class=pull-right>Tyler Henry

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Last night was a long night. I couldn't sleep and when I dozed off, I was woken up by a nightmare. Something just wasn't right with the world. I looked at the time on my phone. 
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1:13am. "F*CK!"
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Message from Karen. *Gosh, haven't heard from her in a while.*  

"Hey Em, You awake?" Check the time on the message ~ 12:48pm. 
Check when last she was online. 6 minutes ago. 

"Hi Karen. You're up late. Lol, so am I actually 😋, you ok?" 

A few lines of text and I offered to turn it into a phone call. Hushed tones as my house mate was sleeping and his room isn't far away, so didn't want to wake him knowing he had to drive for two and a half hours this morning to attend a work thing. 

In retrospect, I'm glad I woke up when I did. Karen stays in a town five and a half hours away from me. We don't get to see each other very often. She lives on a farm homestead in a lush green forested area with her dog Styx who I absolutely adore. <sub>She gets all squeaky when she sees me and gives me the best sloppy puppy kisses all over my face.</sub> Her father is in his early seventies and while he doesn't stay with her, she's his first port of call when things go wrong. He was diagnosed with a heart condition about a year ago and has been in and out of hospital numerous times since due to arrhythmias. It hasn't been easy for Karen who takes the majority of the emotional turmoil because her siblings are too far away (or perhaps too disinterested?) to get involved. I'm getting a little sidetracked but it doesn't matter, I'll get to the point if there is one, at some stage. 

She was diagnosed with major depressive disorder a few years back and she's on medication for it which she explained has helped immensely but she's now dealing with anhedonia which she described as a lack of finding enjoyment in things that would normally help her keep her cheerful disposition. I asked her a few open questions and then I simply listened. I don't judge people harshly for having to live with depression, I know her life story, we both feel safe with each other so there is no need to keep up appearances. Something that stood out was when she explained that it felt like the colour had been scrubbed away and drained from her home, that her sewing doesn't bring that spark of creativity to her anymore, it's all become a chore, like the dishes or the laundry or picking up dog shit. 

The conversation became very deep and it was almost like we were trying to muddle our way through it together. I didn't offer her advice, I was being a sounding board. She's been working on adding things to her inventory for a while in terms of coping with the blunting effects of it as well as trying to find ways to at least *try* spark the joy that normally exudes out of her like sunshine. It made me incredibly sad hearing the emotions that she *is* feeling, but they aren't the positive ones that she so desperately wants to get back to some sort of median line. Then she dropped another bombshell on me that it's apparently not well understood and there isn't a pill to pop or a cure to be found. 

She knows I'm not a medical professional, I'm her friend. She knows I don't want to fix her and I'm not going to bash her for feeling any of this, this is her life, it's part of her journey and to deny her the sovereignty to express it I think would make me a pretty shit friend. I think she just needed to find some safe connection, sort of like the downline divers use - they know that there's something they can trace to find their way to the surface when the water is muddy or the clarity has gone walkabout. I know she's not in a good place, but I told her that I would sit with her in the dreariness for as long as it takes. I know she'll find her spark again. The stress that she's been experiencing hasn't helped, but she's strong. I could hear how much power she still has deep down and her understanding of what she's experiencing, the fact that she could articulate it well enough that I could empathetically put myself in her shoes was pretty profound. 

After our conversation ended, I lay thinking about a post I read a few days ago about loneliness, emptiness and isolation and I started wondering if anhedonia is linked to all these things. It's food for thought and something I'll look into. I can't imagine losing my creativity and the fulfillment I get from it, the joy I find in writing, drawing or hiking. It can't be a nice experience. I am thinking of getting her some funky material samples with tassles and buttons and maybe some sew on patches, putting them in a parcel with treats for her (and of course for Styx too) and sending them to her. They might not spark joy, but they might bring her some comfort. In other circumstances I would think about a surprise visit, but I don't think it's the right time for that and I don't want to increase her stress. Maybe I'll send the painting to her as well, with a letter on the back.  

<center>![Miss Styx.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/emma-h2/23zbPprH5HTuodinPXjuQRKBYgrj7okFy1zKM8rxTPZzbzmhYWDK7eYLwu42fRASbdFaf.jpg)</center>

Anyway, here's a photo of Styx giving me kisses the last time I saw her that brought me immense childlike joy and glee... The expression on my face is not particularly flattering in the original so you get this one instead 😜 

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I'm hoping to help Karen find her joy again. There will be more phonecalls and late night conversations and music, links to videos and probably a few suggestions for her coping inventory. 

Hold on to the things that you enjoy with all your fingers, toes, eyelashes and elbows for as long as you possibly can and if the colours get drained out of your life and joy eludes you, fight to get it back, for as long as it might take. 

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𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝑨𝑰 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆. 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒘𝒏.

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