I honestly can't remember the first time I heard of an "Empath."
I know it was probably in my later twenties or early thirties, but I do remember, as I studied about what an Empath is, being astonished that there were people who could relate to my own experiences of empathetic sensitivity.
This is the empathetic sensitivity that made me cry at commercials and cringe away from contention, even as a young girl. This sensitivity is an integral part of who I am and always has been. It's a deeply personal trait that is as much a part of my genetic makeup as is my height and skin color.
It's been both a blessing and a curse throughout my life.
Because I have always been able to have a sense of what other people were feeling, I struggled for a long time with codependent behaviors and habits.
Codependency, in case that word has some baggage for you, just means to me that I took it upon myself to try to fix or control how other people were feeling, because, as an empath, if my roommate, companion, friend, or husband was ever feeling anything negative or heavy, I was feeling it, too. I could sense if they had had a hard day, and since I could sense it, it then became my job to do everything in my power to make it better--for BOTH of us.
If you're uncomfortable, I'm uncomfortable, so let's just both do whatever we can to not be uncomfortable anymore, shall we? K, thanks.
Anyone who is familiar with this type of behavior knows that it's pretty unhealthy and can lead to a whole lot of manipulative or passive-aggressive relationships and leads away from any type of true or vulnerable connection on any meaningful level.
Not a great characteristic, but it's how I coped with my sensitivity and the discomfort and pain it brought into my life without my asking for it.
A few years into my journey of healing, I became acquainted with the idea of an emotional "shield," a flexible sort of protection that allows me to be there with someone in their pain or discomfort without feeling it personally as a drain on myself. This type of shield is not a wall or barrier that prevents connected relationships; rather, it's a flexible boundary that allows the positive connection while preventing toxic entanglements or defensive responses.
Sounds cool, right?
For about a year, I took classes on this principle, had several sessions with my life coach trying to visualize it, and watched YouTube videos about it.
I really wanted to understand this concept, because the idea of having to go through life holding everyone else's pain for them (whether I wanted to or not, or even whether they wanted me to or not) felt exhausting. My own pain was just so heavy, and adding anyone else's to it felt unbearable.
Bur I still couldn't ever get my shield to stay steady without intense personal focus on keeping it up. I would practice, I would try to utilize it in every interaction from my kids throwing tantrums to the judgmental lady at the store giving advice about my kids throwing tantrums, but it always took so much effort and mental strain on my part that I began to think that the idea of having an emotional shield was just not something I was capable of.
Until I watched this video, based on a talk given by Elder Neal L. Anderson in April 2014.
The image, barely visible behind this young man, is that of the Christus; our Savior, opening His arms and helping this boy struggle against the things battering him.
I decided to try incorporating a visual of my Savior in holding up the shield for me, and doing so made an immediate difference in my ability to hold space for other peoples' pain without making it about myself.
That was years ago, and this visual has stayed with me and helped me through many more difficult, heavy, uncomfortable, or emotional conversations.
When I focus, I'm able to actually picture my Savior standing between me and the person I'm talking to.
It's amazing how when I remember that He is the Savior and I'm not, I suddenly no longer feel the need to fix, save, manipulate, or rescue this person, but I can instead love them where they are.
It also helps me when I'm feeling overly defensive or angry in response to what the person is saying, because their pain (even when directed at me) no longer becomes about me, but about them.
It still takes intentional focus, yes, but it's not that overwhelming strain I used to experience when trying to utilize those same visualizations of protecting armor, bells, or shields on their own.
Integrating the Savior made all the difference in my ability to withstand other people's strong emotions that still hit me sometimes with the force of what feels like a runaway train.
The funny thing is, I actually thought I was the only one who utilized this visualization clear up until this week, when I was reading in Proverbs 2:6-7:
" (6) For the Lord giveth wisdom: out of His mouth cometh knowledge and understanding.
(7) ...He is a buckler to them that walk uprightly."
I've read this verse before, I know I have, and honestly, I always just kind of coasted over that word, "buckler," assuming it was some form of ancient armor that I didn't really relate to.
This week, however, almost on a whim, I decided to look up the definition of "buckler."
Do you know what a buckler is?
A buckler is a small round shield, according to the New Oxford American Dictionary.
You know, something that looks a little like this?
As I read this description, I could feel the Lord approving of me integrating Him in such a personal and protective way into my relationships and interactions.
He wants to be my shield!
He knows my tendencies to want to rescue and fix, and although He's a lot more patient about it, when I rush in to save the day with advice or other rescuing behaviors, I picture Him patiently watching me run around and "fix it" the way I feel when my kids want to "help" me with painting the house.
It usually--well, always ends up a lot more messy that way.
I'm still young, spiritually speaking, and I haven't near the wisdom, strength, power, or ability that my Savior has to save any of my loved ones, no matter how noble my intentions may be.
So when I allow the Savior to be my emotional buckler and sit between me and whoever is struggling, I find that I am more able to hold space for them.
To listen.
To love.
To sit in the discomfort with them.
And when the time is right for me to share insights or thoughts, the Spirit often gives me in the very moment what He desires for me to say to them.
Sometimes it's nothing.
Sometimes it's something.
Almost always it's a lot shorter than what I would have come up with on my own (in case you haven't met me, I've got the tendency to be kinda wordy).
It is, without a doubt, always more powerful.
Although I often leave those heavy, difficult, or powerful conversations thinking back on what I said and wondering if it was the right thing, I have also learned to go to God and ask Him when I get fixated or anxious about it.
Sometimes He lets me know (in the kindest, most gentle way possible, because that's how He is) that I said too much.
Sometimes He lets me know that what I said was perfect.
And always, I walk away feeling humble and grateful for His influence in my life.
I no longer think of my empathetic tendencies as a curse.
Through my Savior's direct influence, this particular weakness has become a strength (See Ether 12:27 for more on this process).
A strength that allows me to listen and be there with others in their pain in a more sacred, powerful way than I could ever hope to do on my own.
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