From a young age, I have been recognized by my family as someone who feels deeply. This isn’t just about shedding tears easily—though that happens sometimes. It’s more about my innate ability to absorb the emotions and energies of those around me, much like a sponge soaking up water. This phenomenon has colored my experiences since childhood.
I still remember a vivid incident from kindergarten. My friend, Lila, fell on the playground and scraped her knee. The sight of blood sent her into a panic, and as she cried, I felt an overwhelming wave of distress myself. I desperately tried to comfort her, but nothing seemed to help. I felt her fear and my own helplessness intensified. In a moment of empathy, I lay down beside Lila, holding her hand and crying with her. When the teachers arrived, they misinterpreted the situation, assuming we had bumped into each other. Both of us were taken to the school nurse, where it was noted that I appeared upset, even though I lacked any visible injuries.
My mother, familiar with my sensitive nature, understood that my emotional turmoil mirrored Lila’s pain. She thanked the nurse and, on our way home, treated me to ice cream, asking how I felt about the incident. She instinctively recognized that, for me, Lila’s injury felt personal.
While my mom may not have used the term, she recognized my identity as an empath. This term, as Judith Orloff, MD, outlines in her work, distinguishes between various levels of sensitivity. At one end of the spectrum are empaths—those of us who feel emotions profoundly. In the center are highly sensitive individuals, and at the opposite end are those lacking empathy, such as narcissists and sociopaths.
As an empath, I now understand that my emotional responses are rooted in the ability to absorb the energies around me, including both physical and emotional pain. This concept may sound unconventional, but Eastern healing traditions have long acknowledged these subtle energies, often referred to as shakti or prana. Modern science is starting to validate these ideas, revealing that emotions can be contagious.
Empaths do not merely relate to others’ emotions; we internalize them. This can create confusion, as we often struggle to differentiate between our feelings and those of the people around us. Eastern practitioners might describe this phenomenon as the transfer of shakti, while I prefer to think of it as an extraordinary form of empathy.
However, this so-called superpower comes with significant challenges. In a world filled with distressing news and images, empaths can easily feel overwhelmed and fatigued. We often cannot compartmentalize our emotions, leading to deep connections with others that can be exhausting. The weight of the world can feel unbearable, and we frequently find ourselves labeled as overly sensitive or dramatic. Yet, as writer Jordan Lee aptly puts it, “Empaths aren’t ‘too’ anything; rather, they are simply in tune with emotions—both their own and those of others.”
You might find yourself rolling your eyes at this description, thinking that it’s an exaggeration. However, if you often encounter strangers who confide in you or if you can sense someone’s emotional state almost instinctively, you might be an empath too. You understand the unique struggle that comes with this gift. In a fractured world, being highly empathetic can be a challenge, but it’s comforting to know that many of us share this experience and feel your pain—literally.
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In summary, being an empath is a profound gift that allows for deep connections with others, yet it also comes with its own set of struggles. Understanding this duality can help empaths navigate their emotions and find solace in knowing they are not alone.