I'm really empathetic and totally burned out
Empathy vs. compassion from an emo life coach's perspective
“Kat, who else is in the room with us?”
My therapist used to be an aesthetician and today I’m hyper-aware of it. She sits across from me in a fitted cable-knit sweater with subtle shoulder awnings. Smokestack jeans tailored at just the right length, maroon suede boots with a 1.5-inch heel. Chic as fuck, per usual. On top of that, she’s an unusually gifted therapist. Annoying.
I've been depressed for 18 days. Skin pale with little dry patches, blood vessels showing through. My eyelids feel like backpacking gear. My mood is playing tricks. On myself, I see faint food stains, glaring pieces of lint, and billboard-sized character flaws. On her, it’s just dewy skin, perfectly filled-in brows, and lashes aflutter.
I wonder how early she gets up to look this put together. Is it inappropriate to ask for skincare tips? God, when was the last time I washed this jacket? I need to turn my life around. Ugh, shut up!
She gestures to the ceramic bowl of rose quartz crystals to my left. I feign engagement, picking some out. I accept a sheet of paper to position the stones on.
"Four of my clients from earlier this week are still on my mind… I think the kids call this an ‘empathy hangover’," I narrate reluctantly, placing the corresponding number of crystals on the paper.
We’re doing her version of family constellation therapy, an approach that explores and addresses hidden family dynamics and generational patterns. It invariably starts off with me feeling stupid.
"Kat, may I self-disclose?” She waits for my nod.
“Empathy is overrated."
I perk up. A rare hot take. "What?"
"For some of us, it's not healthy to be totally “embodied” and “empathetic” all the time. And yet people get shamed for not engaging that way. Women and men both, nowadays." What’s it like for you?
"I’m physically exhausted but mentally wired. When someone is really anxious or stressed, I feel flooded by it. I’d love to go to bed for a month. But wait, what should I do instead of empathy?"
“Compassion is better. Because… oh no, we’re over time. A complicated emotion flickered across her face. “I do have another client right after this. I’m sorry, but try Googling “empathy vs. compassion”.
She stood to open the door. “Thank you, Kat. See you next week.” She shuts it softly after me.
I stare at my black Perplexity desktop app. It makes me feel oddly like Neo from The Matrix. Entranced, I start empathizing with Neo, a character I’ve literally never related to.
The guy’s life got turned upside down because of an aggressive choice pushed on him by a powerful guy… Seven minutes passed before I snapped myself out of it. This, right here, is exactly my problem. Waste of energy and time.
I really, really need to feel better, so I’m laboring to find the right words to talk to the AI. How do I get you to give me something good? Another round of the game Feels Stupid But Try Anyway.
I slowly type, “How would you articulate the difference between empathy and compassion? I’d like a description that is less commonly stated.”
In seconds, a gale of clarity arrives:
Empathy: Feeling with Others.
Compassion: Acting with Care.
I feel the words soaking into my torso, like the first hit of water on a new kitchen sponge. Some tension releases out of my traps, shoulders and jaw, like opening the valve of a plump beach ball.
Mysteriously, I begin to cry.
Empathy is necessary and good
You’ve seen the bookstore’s wall of non-fiction on empathy. But empathy is not a trend — it’s our humanity. It remarkably balances the more mechanical, controlling, analytical, outcomes-obsessed, judgy mode of our brains.1
People are obsessed with empathy for good reason. It contains the medicine we need — love.
Taking the time and energy to understand another’s feelings is rooted in love and connection. In our time of high-speed hate and division, this practice is more critical than ever.
Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860) was a depressed, pessimistic, likely brokenhearted philosopher. It’s perhaps not surprising that his theory of human intimacy — the Porcupine Dilemma — still resonates today.
He tells a parable of porcupines in winter, huddling for warmth and survival. They want to be warm and cozy, so they get close to each other. But porcupines — and humans — have sharp quills. They inevitably move too fast or get too close and impale each other. In pain, they retreat. Soon, however, they get cold and lonely, so they return to the group.
Schopenhauer observed that porcupines and humans both keep trying until we find the optimal distance for connection and minimal irritation.
Too much distance for too long, and I feel what my therapist calls “alarmed aloneness.” Empathy is one human way to come closer again.
Too much empathy is bad
As a “helping professional” that used to frequently get “empathy hangovers”, I’m conflicted about empathy.
We humans are great at overdoing a good thing into oblivion. Let’s start with four words, emotionally satisfying yet not totally accurate: “I feel your pain.”
I often feel with my clients — their pain, frustration, anxiety, fear. Also their joy, peace, clarity, and confidence. Sometimes I hear myself tell them, “Oof, I feel you.” A sweet sentiment, but it’s wrong.
I don’t feel what you’re feeling. I can’t possibly. I’m feeling my own feelings, created by my vivid imagination and limbic system.
When I over-empathize, I expend too much emotion, burn out, then feel vaguely resentful towards myself, no one and everyone.
Something I hate — because I’ve watched myself do it — is when one person shames another into feeling their misery. Why do we want each other to feel our turmoil? At best, if I try hard, I might feel 30%2 of your experience. At worst, I’m so wrapped up in my own shit that what I feel has nothing to do with you. The rub is this: in every case, I’ve burned up precious energy. Cue burnout.
I’ve misunderstood empathy for a long time, and that has led me feeling sick, depleted, or depressed. We need oxygen to live, and too much of it can kill us. The same goes for empathy.
Compassion works better
I glance at the clock a third time, bored and irritated. My client has been rapid-fire monologuing for 14 minutes.
Then, I harshly chastise myself for my feelings. You’re supposed to be patient, caring and impeccably professional! Bad coach.
Earlier in my career, my judge-then-self-flagellate cycle roared unabated. Nowadays, I catch myself sooner. I still feel those things, but the difference is I know why:
She’s talking at me, not with me. We’re not connecting. She’s disappeared, where did she go? God, I do this so much, too. This is how it feels for the other person. Shit, I’ve really let her go on and on.
My boredom and irritation isn’t about her — she’s just being a human, one I adore besides. The heat is directed at myself and all the ways I push people away, hide from reality, run from pain.
A warm glow of compassion starts up in me, slowly soaking me through, as if I’m standing in a puddle wearing jeans that are way too long. She’s really hurting right now. Talking fast is one way to run and hide.
I interrupt her, for many reasons. First, she’s given me permission to, as her coach. Second, my training and code of ethics tells me to buck up and stop a client when they’re going warp-speed down an unhelpful path. Third, because if I don’t I’d tacitly be agreeing with all the negative, fearful, distorted things she’s saying.
I interrupt her because right then, that’s being compassionate — acting with care.
I gently ask her questions designed to expand her field of awareness. Throw in a neuroscience trick of the trade. Let her hitch a ride on my steadier nervous system, the way my therapist does for me. After 22 minutes and trying about as many different approaches, she’s taking steady steps up, out of the spiral. Her energy is stabilizing, she’s speaking more slowly and intentionally.
She’s come back to me.
But empathy is not overrated
Empathy is taking a trip to the land of someone else’s emotions. And just as in real life, I want a vacation from my trip upon return.
My therapist is absolutely right that we overemphasize empathy. And…
Empathy is not overrated, because we need it. The problem is some of us do it too much, and then expect the same from others.
I need both empathy and compassion to get through my worst relationship messes and simply feel alive. Thus, “Which is better, empathy or compassion?” is a weak question. It’s not an either/or proposition. It’s both/and.
In design, empathy is used purposefully, to better understand the user/customer and create something of value. I’m still learning how to use this kind of “strategic empathy”.
Meanwhile, I’m a coach that does high-stakes emotional labor all day for a living. So more often than not, compassion is the tool that helps me help my clients.
Others are at the beginning of their empathy journey. They could do a lot worse than putting themselves aside and taking a trip into another’s heart-mind.
Currently and to be continued
Maybe I’m conflicted about empathy because I was overwhelmed, trying to “be efficient” and “pick the one right answer”.
Maybe empathy is standing close to the fire, feeling their emotional heat with them so they’re not alone.
Maybe compassion is watching the fire from a useful distance, so you can keep your wits about you and organize a bucket brigade.
Maybe we need both, all the time. Maybe with practice, we know when to call on what.
Resounding gratitude to the following people who made me and this piece better, faster, stronger: my gifted, chic as fuck therapist,
, my sister Audrey, my patient friends (you know who you are), and my brilliant writing group: , , , , .Thank you for pouring into me so I can pour into you.
The credited images in
were made by humans who got paid for their work.While both hemispheres contribute to compassionate processes, there is evidence suggesting a more prominent role for the right hemisphere in mediating empathy and compassion. Perplexity. (2023). Perplexity.ai (AI Chatbot) Large language model. https://www.perplexity.ai/
I made this up.
The porcupine dilemma spoke to me. (Well, everything in this piece did.) I've definitely gotten pricked by my share of quills recently. I need to find a more lasting medium. I loved the distinction between empathy and compassion. I'm going to keep this in mind going forward!
I feel this. Or I "feel" this. I think a lot about the difficulty of finding a stable balance between distance and connection. It's a tension that animates a lot of my fiction. Currently serializing sci-fi about the blurred boundary between self and other (the problem is 10x more dicey for a community of shapeshifters!). Will definitely be incorporating the porcupine dilemma somehow.
https://open.substack.com/pub/takimwilliams/p/hello-my-other-hello-my-self-encapsulation?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android&r=17mz6p