My anxiety levels are through the roof. I’m experiencing
empathy overload. Life isn’t always as straight-forward as we’d like it to be
for those of us carrying heavy burdens for people dealing with adversity,
hardship, or injustice. Empathic tolerance is a thing. It’s a thing that allows
open-hearted folks to endure the chaos they rub up against. Empathic tolerance
requires healthy levels of empathic resistance in order to avoid overload and
subsequent empathic collapse.
Tears help. There’s something about tears that are
restorative. Crying is a “giving over” to the overload and allowing excess
hurt, anger, grief, and despair to spill out.
I was recently interviewed about discipleship relevant to
membership in a Motorcycle Club community. I told a story about a guy falling
in a hole. The guy falls into a deep hole and can’t climb out. A doctor comes
by and our guy asks for help. The doctor writes a prescription on a piece of
paper and throws it into the hole as he moves on. A priest comes by later and
writes a prayer on a piece of paper which he throws down into the hole and
moves on. Still later, a friend wanders by. Our guy hollers up to him. “Joe, I’m
down in this hole. Can you get me out?” Joe jumps down into the hole with him.
Our guy states with amazement, “are you stupid? Now we’re both stuck down here!”
Joe confidently answers, “I’ve been down here before and I know the way out.”
As soon as I uttered these last words, I developed a knot in my throat the size
of a bowling ball, dropped my eyes to my boots, and began to fight back tears.
I wasn’t embarrassed by this show of emotion. As a matter
of fact, I was a little disappointed that the editors of the interview cut it
out. Although, I fully understand why they did.
Getting choked up wasn’t all about sorrow. Some of it was
about gratefulness. Some of it was about feeling helpless. Some of it was about
sensing my own undeservingness. Much of it was about my lack of empathetic
resistance.
Every time I engage another charitable effort I’m exposed
to new levels of need. At what point does one succumb to the urge to “Van Gogh”
by chopping off one’s own ear? If not the ear, then what? Maybe abusing alcohol
is the severed ear. Maybe it’s marital strife. What if the ear loss manifests
itself as combative behavior to those who dismiss our empathic priorities. I’m
sure that we all “Van Gogh” to the beat of a million different drummers.
I have the sense that unchecked levels of empathic
overload resulting in a backup of emotional stress often trigger the pressure
release valves of destructive behavior. Most of us will seek emotional,
physical, or intellectual sedation rather than engage an excessive emotional
buildup of stress. We’ll do anything within our power to hold off the full
experience of an undesirable emotional event.
I believe that the vast majority of “bad people” are
those caught up in cycles of life resembling a deep hole with steep walls. They
are deep in the hole and may have stopped asking folks up top for help. They’ve
been in the hole so long that they’re either unaware of anything other than the
hole or they’ve lost hope in every getting out.
We have to jump down into the hole. Oftentimes, we have
to put ourselves in jeopardy in order to be benefactors. Our empathy should
compel us to engage, embrace, and partner with folks living down deep. Compassion
is our voice of empathy declaring that “bad” people are mostly misunderstood.
The disadvantaged aren’t “bad.” The unhealthy aren’t “bad.” The misguided aren’t
“bad.” The uneducated aren’t “bad.” There is no THEM. There is only US.
There is US in the hole. There is US not in the hole.
That’s it.
My spontaneous loss of emotional control during the
interview was both a remembrance and a foreshadowing. I was remembering all
those that have jumped in the hole and led me out. I was thinking about all of
those that I needed to help out of their holes. I was experiencing an
overwhelming sense of humility. And within that same nanosecond, I recognized
the faces of loved ones that I could only offer notes of encouragement thrown
down into their hole.
And then it was gone. The moment that forced me to stare
straight down lifted. It was like it had a four breath max and then passed
through me. I looked up to see the cameraman fighting back tears. Likewise, the
interviewer was struggling to maintain composure. It wasn’t just me. It wasn’t
even about me or my empathy overload. Something had released in all of us.
After unhooking my mic and taking down the tripod, we all
awkwardly laughed and shook it off. I didn’t know what holes they were dealing
with. They didn’t know the depth of my past or present holes. What we knew
collectively was that honest vulnerability (whether intentional or spontaneous)
triggers something undeniably transformative.
I recognize that creating connections safe enough to
share vulnerability gets us part of the way out of our holes. I’m thinking that
there’s hope in the safety followed by a trust in the vulnerability which set
the stage for transformative moments. This has to be the way out. This has to
be how we cry out to someone up top for help.
OR—we can barricade ourselves behind a wall of indifference.
We can convince ourselves that isolation and aversion will keep us safe. We can
think of vulnerability as weakness and empathy as subjugation. We can drive a
flag deep into the soil and claim whatever hole we’re in as sovereign domain. The
problem with this approach is that it’s not transformative. It offers no
movement past or through the struggles we experience.
If I declare my location as fixed then it’s imperative
that I’m RIGHT. And if I’m RIGHT then alternative locations are WRONG. Now I’ve
got an US, a THEM, an immutable creed, and I no longer have to wrestle with
challenges to my beliefs. A fixed position requires defense. Defense begs for
walls. Walls prevent access. Walls provide a false sense of security. Walls
abhor cooperation.
No. I will endure the insufferable anxiety and discomfort
of empathy. I’ll embrace the uncertainty of emotional movement and
transformation. I’ll embrace motion and discussion and compassion and cooperation.
For the sake of nothing more than understanding, I’ll risk being wrong more
than I’ll strive to be right. Enlightenment demands a posture of acceptance
instead of resistance.
My anxiety levels are through the roof. But this, too,
shall pass. On the other side is learning, understanding, and a grateful path
of escape for us all. Because whatever we Iearn during this season we’ll pass
on to others we come across. As best as we’re able, we’ll help. We’ll offer to
partner and grasp at transformative life void of walls or defensive postures. If
it takes some tears, so be it. It will certainly involve struggle and breathing
through the moments that overwhelm.
AND—it’ll be far better than the alternative.
