My empathy is the cross I bear

Sometimes I think my empathy is both my gift and my undoing.

It makes me notice things others overlook — the pauses, the tone, the quiet shifts in energy. I feel people even when they don’t speak. I understand them even when they don’t understand me.

But there are days it feels heavy.

Today at work, I noticed a newbie struggling with catering emails. He looked lost, moving slowly, trying so hard to keep up. I wanted to help, but I hesitated. I’m from a different LOB, and I wasn’t confident enough to step in.

He spent hours finishing his bucket. I asked his wavemate, Alyx, to help him, but my request was ignored. I told a friend I wanted to reach out, but they discouraged me, saying it would only drain me. So, I stayed quiet and focused on my own tasks.

Hours passed. I saw one of his tenured teammates step in to help, and I silently thanked God for sending someone his way.

Then, fifteen minutes before I was about to clock out, he tapped my shoulder and asked for help. I did. I guided him through it, and together, we managed to wrap up everything before the shift ended. Watching him breathe a sigh of relief almost made me cry.

The world can be cruel sometimes. It celebrates the fast, the tough, the ones who can survive without slowing down. It’s always survival of the fittest. But even then, I don’t ever want to lose my softness.

Because maybe kindness doesn’t make me the fittest but it makes me human.

When I care too much about people who barely think of me, when I choose understanding over anger, and softness when silence would hurt less, I remind myself: this is who I am.

My empathy makes me forgive faster than I should, and hope longer than I need to. It’s the cross I bear — a weight that hurts, yet one I can’t imagine putting down.

I almost didn’t help and yet, that small moment reminded me why I still choose kindness, even when it hurts. 

Still, I’d rather feel deeply than feel nothing at all. Because even when it breaks me a little, it’s also what keeps me kind. What keeps me, me. 

This is for the quiet hearts who feel too much.

-E. 

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