I feel your pain--and everyone else's too

Empathy—everyone thinks it’s so wonderful! I’m often told I’m an empathetic person, as if it’s a compliment. But truthfully, no one realizes how deeply empathetic I am, and what a blight it is. I would trade in my empathy for a good salty vice—gluttony, selfishness, sloth, whatever.

According to Merriam-Webster, empathy is “the ability to relate to another person’s pain vicariously, as if one has experienced that pain themselves.” (I’m going to ignore the noun/pronoun--“one”/”themselves”--number disagreement.) The thing is, I experience another’s pain exactly as if it were my own. And therein lies the problem. There is a lot of pain in this world, and some days I think I feel it all: I am stressed out by the predicament of my friend who has an instant to pack a lifetime and a loftful of accumulation into a modest-sized new apartment. I feel her anxiety about whether she can afford the new place. I feel the distraction of my friend whose beloved nonagenarian aunt died leaving her to dispose of the estate. I feel the bitterness and rage of a friend whose wife is divorcing him and refuses to discuss why. And perhaps most distressing of all, I feel the loneliness and boredom of my ancient mother, who wastes away, angry that none of her three children love her enough to give up their lives to share hers. She’s right. We don’t.

My therapist friend tells me that it’s not empathy I feel but guilt. But I don’t feel guilty about all these things. I feel exactly as if I’m packing or executing an estate or getting a divorce or withering away my final years alone.

And I feel your pain, as Bill Clinton famously (and insincerely) said during his 1992 campaign. Tell me what it is, and I guarantee I’ll feel it.

Why is it a good thing for me—or anyone else? Why is this a virtue? And why can’t I just stop?

Comments

  1. Well, it's why we love you. For starters, your empathy and understanding instantly lessen our pain and distress because talking with you dissolves our isolation. You always spontaneously offer just the right words of comfort, memorably so (my appreciative mind replays your kind and succinct statements during my last crisis). And then you get us through the suffering with concrete help: hands-on labor; referrals, information and connections; editing skills. You've been our go-to friend when crises arise. I suppose you could take a break, tell some of us that you're fed-up with our troubles, that you've no room to take in more. (Did Jesus ever get "fed up"?) Please do that if it will help you. But first can I show you another thorny e-mail I'm working on?

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