There are moments when we understand someone completely yet feel almost nothing about what they are going through.

That is empathetic apathy.

It is not a lack of understanding. In fact, it can begin with understanding. We recognise the pain, appreciate the circumstances, and perhaps even know exactly how the person feels. Yet, somewhere along the way, our emotional response has become muted.

Perhaps we have heard too many stories, carried too many burdens, or spent too long absorbing the emotions of others. Eventually, compassion can become exhausted.

Empathetic apathy can also be a form of self-preservation. We care, but we cannot afford to feel everything. So, we acknowledge another person's suffering without allowing it to enter us.

There is something strangely uncomfortable about this. We may feel guilty because we believe understanding should automatically produce empathy, but they are not the same thing.

Sometimes, we can understand someone's pain without carrying it. Perhaps that is not apathy at all, but a boundary we have learned to create.

The danger comes when the boundary becomes a wall because there is a difference between protecting your peace and losing your capacity to care.

Thought-provoking reflections on life, identity and relationships, written in the style of a modern-day Socratic journal and told through poetic paradoxes and emotional honesty.

by Paul Strydom.

© Paul Strydom. All rights reserved.

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