Being An Empath in the Time of Covid
My empathic abilities give me a unique perspective as a writer. Unfortunately, they also make it difficult for me to actually write anything.
As I have written in a previous post (see link below), I recently left the Mormon church. I had planned to write more about my faith transition during the last few months, but then there was this pandemic thing… and well, we have all had our lives turned upside down and sideways.
Everyone had plans that changed… practically overnight.
Now that we are all forced to settle into somewhat of a new “normal”, as it were, I am finally feeling the pull to write again. Not that I have been avoiding writing altogether. It’s just that I have hardly touched a keyboard in months. My writing has consisted mainly of jotting disconnected thoughts in a spiral notebook with a four-colored ball-point pen. But the majority of my time has been taken up watching TV or perusing the internet on my phone.
And crying.
A lot.
My plans to write more about my transition out of the Mormon church got delayed a little (coming soon… stay tuned!) because there is this thing that happens, when something like a global pandemic occurs.
It’s called collective grief, and anyone who has empathic abilities can tell you that when this happens, your world suddenly stops.
Part of self care, for me, is to give myself permission to not be productive, which includes my writing. As an empath, the way I write is very emotional, and as such, is very draining. It was just too much to expect it of myself during such an emotionally charged time in society.
Growing up in the Mormon church, I was taught not to think for myself or trust my own feelings. Especially as a woman. There is an order to things in the Church… and it is an order of men. It boggles my mind that in the year 2020 there are still such misogynistic, patriarchal societies all over the world that extend far beyond religion (that is another chat for another time).
God is a man. The leaders of the church are men. Jesus is a man. The Holy Spirit is even considered male. I was born into, raised in, and spent my entire life in this environment. In the church, we were taught to blindly follow what we were told… by men.
I didn’t know there was any other way to be.
I was taught that any good or happy thoughts, or feelings, were of a spiritual nature. If I had a good idea, it was from God. If I had a good feeling, it was the Holy Spirit testifying to me that what I was feeling was inspired of God. If I had any feelings that were negative or contrary to the teachings of the church, those were from the devil (also male) and were to be dismissed and ignored.
I never learned to trust my own feelings or to realize that I can have a thought that is purely my own.
I certainly never had the vocabulary to understand what an empath is or that I am one. I was always led to believe that it was a spiritual gift (from God) that allowed me to connect to others the way that I do.
I had heard the word empath before leaving the Mormon church, but it was another “woo woo” thing to avoid because it was “worldly” and for people who didn’t have the “truth” and “spiritual understanding” that those of us in the church had. So, it’s just in the last few months (at 52 years old) that I am truly starting to understand myself and my empathic abilities…
Just in time for Covid-19.
According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, an empath is one who experiences the emotions of others.
When I looked up the definition online, there was also a quote I really liked, which used the word empath in a sentence:
If you feel the Earth’s pain before an earthquake or have a panic attack because someone near you is anxious, you might be an empath too. — Hannah Ewens
This quote is the perfect explanation for an empath and exactly what I have been dealing with the past several months or so since the outbreak started. These feelings are also congruent with the conditions involving the Black Lives Matter movement and the current protesting, but I will save that for a future post.
At the very beginning of the quarantine, I was horribly sick for three weeks with an as-yet-to-be-defined illness (probably covid), but once I was physically well, I continued to struggle mentally and emotionally. The best way to explain it to a non-empathic person is to tell you to imagine your worst day (lost your job, death of a loved one, etc) and then multiply that feeling of pain times 1000+ people.
ALL. AT. THE. SAME. TIME.
That might begin to somewhat scratch the surface. If that is true for empaths, you may ask why we don’t have major meltdowns on a regular, consistent basis. After all, global suffering is not a new concept.
The difference is that this is a shared experience. Everyone throughout the world is dealing with the same thing — all together, all at once. It is everywhere and hard to avoid. Normally, people go about their lives and are busy dealing with their own problems. When we are busy, it is easy to worry about our own lives and not necessarily notice what is going on with other people’s lives (unless we choose to).
The emotional toll of this pandemic is so much harder to avoid. It is constantly being talked about on television and the internet. Plus, as we have all been asked to stay home over the last few months in order to socially distance, we all have had more time on our hands to watch TV and look at our phones. The constant stream of news, and images of people being affected by this on so many levels, can be extremely overwhelming.
Especially for an empath.
The emotional toll was exhausting and I was sleeping much, much more than usual. There were also many mornings where I woke up and started crying immediately. I was so emotionally overwhelmed by the sadness I felt, not just for myself, but for everyone else in the world who was overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all.
This was especially true while social distancing in a separate room from my husband, as we took turns being sick. While that was hard, eventually we were able to be together again. I am so grateful that I was able to be quarantined with my husband. Companionship aside, my husband has always been my “rock”. Just physically leaning into him has a very calming effect on me and always keeps me grounded. He has always been my “safe place”. As an empath, I need his low emotion/no drama vibe to provide me much needed rest. It was very hard to find that when we were physically apart.
My heart truly goes out to those who have had to be separated from loved ones, on a long term basis, because of the virus.
At the beginning of the pandemic, I couldn’t get enough news. I was watching it constantly, trying to find out whatever the latest update was. During the quarantine and while being physically disconnected from people, somehow this helped me feel connected to others. The sheer magnitude of the lives it was affecting certainly helped me understand why I was hit so hard empathically. This pattern lasted for a few weeks, but eventually the constant flow of negativity was taking a toll on my emotions and causing me an enormous amount of anxiety. Finally, I just couldn’t take any more.
For the following few weeks, while I took a much needed break from watching the news, I was still almost constantly on social media, checking in with friends and loved ones to see how they were handling things. And when I wasn’t doing that, I was trying to distract and numb myself with binge watching shows, just to try and forget about the world for a while.
And then I just hit a wall.
I was so emotionally overwhelmed, I just stopped. First with social media. Not even to check on loved ones. Because I knew I would get sucked in and wouldn’t be able to stop scrolling. Then, I just couldn’t go online. At all.
When I stopped spending so much time on my phone, I found that I started reading more. Reading led to thinking. Thinking led to hearing my own thoughts again, and being able to form coherent sentences, which prompted me to open up my laptop again.
While writing can provide a cathartic release, it is not uncommon for an empath to shut down completely when overcome by extra anxiety. Compound that with even greater anxiety due to the highly contagious nature of the virus, and you have the recipe for a recluse.
Although my empathic nature prompts me to want to go out and help others (i.e., volunteering at a food bank, soup kitchen, or Meals On Wheels), my anxiety about the virus prevents me from being able to leave my house. Kind of a Catch 22.
I have learned that I have to be kind to myself, because sometimes it’s all I can do to get out of bed in the morning.
During the quarantine (which I know many people are still in the middle of) one thing that helped me immensely was making an Anxiety Buster List. It included things like: meditation, exercise, uplifting podcasts & videos (Some Good News was a fave), funny movies & comedy specials, singing & dancing, reading, sunshine, hot bubble baths, etc. While I no longer refer to the list like I did before, I still use some of these uplifting activities on a regular basis.
Taking time for self-care has continued to help me maintain my sanity and unplug a little from the stresses of the world.
One thing I still love is starting my morning off with the previous night’s Tonight Show while I enjoy my homemade mocha latte. Unfortunately, one thing that I shouldn’t be doing, that I have been again, is spending too much time on social media (kinda hard not to right now in the midst of BLM). I’ll admit that I’m not very good at it, but what really does help me a lot mentally is to limit my screen time.
Getting off the internet makes it easier to spend more time outside, as well. Summer is upon us, and getting out in the sun really helps my mood. Of course, this pandemic is still not over, but as things have been slowly opening back up here in my little Eden called Oregon, I have been able to get out and recharge at my happy place: the Oregon Coast.
Reconnecting with the positive energy of the ocean has helped me to start feeling a little more like myself again. Anything and everything I can do to connect to myself, helps me feel more like writing.
And writing definitely makes me feel more like myself.
