I Feel You

The holidays have left me exhausted. There is always so much peopling, and peopling just sucks my energy, drains my battery. The analytic side of my brain wants to know why this is. All those dang personality tests I took over my career told me I’m an extrovert, but those tests leaned heavily on how you interact at work. So perhaps I was an introvert coping as an extrovert to fit the professional slot I had pegged myself into, maybe some fake persona I developed instead of my authentic self. So, I could just be a person who needs alone time to recharge her batteries because I’m an introvert and introverts need to recharge after social interaction. 

Or maybe it’s because I’m an empath. What is an empath, you ask? I asked too, because people I’m closest to have called me one. In fact, I had to research it just to understand the term, which is actually not an official psychological term, by the way. Instead, it’s someone who is highly attuned to the emotions of others. Merriam-Webster defines it as one who experiences the emotions of others. That seems to resonate with me. If a family member has a headache, I might feel a dull tug in my head. If someone has a stomachache, I feel discomfort in my belly. So maybe being around people drains my battery as I can feel their emotions, their pain, in some cases, experience them myself to some degree. This would explain why being in crowds is sometimes difficult for me, why I need alone time after socializing.

Research says that empaths pick up on clues that others might overlook, they’ll notice if someone is sad, or uncomfortable, without that person voicing their feelings. I pick up on even the most subtle clues in people, I don’t need them to verbalize them. I also have complete strangers openly share their struggles with me. Side note, my daughter has this same affliction. Perhaps it’s genetic. Poor girl. For a long time, I thought it was something about my face, or my physical expressions. Like somehow my face says, “hey, tell me what’s wrong, let me share your pain.” 

For example, back when I was working as a hairdresser (yes, I was a hairdresser prior to my 40+ years working in corporate America), I had a customer who I could tell was struggling. I didn’t pry, I didn’t ask questions, I just wanted to do her hair and move on. But she wasn’t having it. Instead, she proceeded to tell me about her husband filling their bathtub with lobster and champagne, just to have him tell her later that evening he wanted a divorce. Before I finished her hair, I was passing her tissues and blowing my own damn nose. 

Then there’s the lady who, while cashing me out at the Dollar Store, tells me she suspects she has an ear infection, that she has left a voicemail for her boss in hopes of getting out early to go to the doctor, and that it really hurts. I find myself listening about all the symptoms she had leading up to the ear pain, and I try to help her find solutions that might help her until her boss calls her back.

​And what about the lady at Starbucks who asked me to watch her bags because she had to go to the bathroom “really bad”. I mean there was a store full of people, and I was clearly getting ready to leave. Why me? I mean, of course I did it. In fact, while waiting for her to return I clutched her bags in a death grip, protecting this stranger’s purchases as if my life depended on it.  

I could go on and on with examples like this. Things like this happen almost every time I go in public. “Can you watch my cart while I run and grab some eyedrops?” (That one happened just this week while I was waiting in line at the pharmacy). “Could you hold my place in line while I....(insert anything here, I’ve heard it all).” I don’t know how many times a complete stranger has shared personal information with me, and they almost always end up saying, “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this”. I don’t know either, dear stranger, but I hope you feel better after. Of course, I don’t say that out loud. Nor do I tell them this type of thing happens to me all the time. 

These are just strangers, it’s way worse when something is going on with family and friends. If you’re going through a breakup and you’re devastated, I feel like I need to breathe into a paper bag to keep from hyperventilating. I’ll cry with you and ask, "Why this had to happen to us?"....er, I mean you. Need to put your pet down and ask me to go to the vet with you? Bad move, I’m helpless to assist. I’m not the strong shoulder to cry on in this scenario. But, if you want someone who will sob loudly, cry so much their shirt is soaked and their eyes are bloodshot, and be pretty much totally worthless, I’m your girl. 

And this isn’t a new characteristic for me. I think I’ve always been like this. I can remember the boy in high school whom someone rudely bumped into, causing him to drop all his books, leaving them scattered across the floor. I immediately felt his embarrassment and discomfort as I bent down and helped him pick them up, assuring him it would be okay. Even further back, there was the girl in elementary school who accidentally stapled her finger. I’m pretty sure I cried harder than she did as I helped her get to the nurse’s office, and I’m positive my finger stung too. 

Whether the empath thing is real and I’m one of them, or it’s because my face says “tell me what’s wrong and let me feel what you’re feeling”, or it’s because I’m really an introvert instead of an extrovert, or it’s just total coincidence, it’s exhausting. But whatever the reason, if a little kindness pours out of me and helps someone else, then so be it. Our entire world could use a lot of kindness, so I’m happy to do my small part to throw some goodness out into the universe.

With that, I’ll wrap up this final blog post of 2024. I wish you all a happy, healthy and prosperous new year. Until next time, love each other and graciously hold the bags of the lady who needs to use the restroom. After all, she’s not asking you to give her a kidney or anything. (Note to self, probably just jinxed myself).