Imagine a room where the air is thick with someone else's grief. You're sitting across from a person who's just lost everything—their job, a loved one, hope. Their words pierce you like needles, and suddenly you don't just feel sympathy; you feel your own pain: your heart tightens, your breathing quickens, and thoughts swirl in your head like "Why is this happening to them? Why can't I fix it?" You try to comfort them, but inside, it's chaos. And that evening, when you're alone, the pain doesn't fade. It settles into you like dust after a storm, and the next day, you're already not ready for another conversation. This isn't just fatigue—it's empathic distress, the moment when empathy, this supposed superpower, turns into invisible shackles.

But why does this happen? Why do the people most sensitive to the world often break first under its weight? Let's break it down step by step, without fluff, with scientific facts and real-life examples. Not like a dry textbook, but like a story about what's hidden behind the facade of "I understand you." Because empathy isn't just a bridge to others—it's also a potential trap for yourself.

Where Does This "Emotional Vampirism" Come From?

Let's start with the basics of psychology. Empathy is the ability to "step into someone else's shoes," to feel their emotions as your own. Psychologists divide it into two types: cognitive (when you understand what another person is feeling) and affective (when you literally experience those emotions). The problem arises with affective empathy, especially in its "dark" form—empathic distress. This isn't just sadness for someone; it's an egocentric reaction: you see another's suffering and instead of helping, you get stuck in your own fear or anxiety. "I can't handle this," you think, and it paralyzes you.

This phenomenon was described by psychologist Daniel Batson in his empathy-altruism theory back in the 1980s. According to Batson, empathy can motivate altruistic actions, but if it's too intense, it shifts into distress—a state where your own emotional system overloads. Imagine the brain as an antenna: it picks up signals from others through mirror neurons—those same cells that activate when you perform an action or see someone else doing it. Neuroimaging studies (like Tania Singer's work) show that during empathic distress, these neural networks become hyperactive: you don't just sympathize; you physically feel the other's pain as if it were yours. Blood flow in the brain changes, cortisol levels (the stress hormone) rise, and there you are in a cycle: someone else's pain becomes yours, and yours becomes chronic.

An interesting psychology fact: empathic distress is more common in people who grew up in environments where emotions were a "forbidden zone." A 2017 study in Frontiers in Psychology (by Molly van Ballegooijen and colleagues) found that people in a bad mood react to others' pain with stronger distress than those who feel stable. Why? Because low mood makes you more vulnerable—like your "emotional armor" has cracked. And if this repeats daily—at work, with friends, on social media—burnout sets in.

How Empathy Turns into Compassion Fatigue: A View from the Hospital Ward

Now let's move to the real world, where this isn't abstract but everyday reality. Compassion fatigue—"fatigue from compassion"—is a term that entered psychology in the 1990s thanks to Charles Figley (often mistaken in casual texts, but he is the pioneer of the field). However, it was systematically unpacked in a 2007 review by Debra Jackson, Angela Firtko, and Michel Edenborough from an Australian university. In the article "An exploration of compassion fatigue in health professionals," they analyzed dozens of studies and concluded: among medical professionals—doctors, nurses, therapists—compassion fatigue affects a significant portion of the workforce.

Why them specifically? Because they're constantly in the epicenter of traumas: cancer, losses, chronic patient pain. Jackson and co-authors write that it's not just fatigue but a three-component process: primary stress from the job, secondary traumatization (when you "absorb" others' trauma), and finally, emotional exhaustion.

The authors emphasize: empathic distress is the key trigger here. A nurse who sees patients fighting pain every day starts to feel it physically—insomnia, anxiety, even somatic symptoms like headaches or digestive issues. Jackson's study is still cited today: it showed that without self-protection strategies (like regular breaks or clinical supervision), the risk of burnout triples. Recent scientific reports from 2023 have further confirmed that high levels of empathic distress correlate with depression and anxiety in adults, especially in high-emotional-load professions. A fact to ponder: among oncologists, compassion fatigue reaches alarming rates, according to meta-analyses in pain management journals.

But it's not just about medics. Many of us are "informal empaths": friends always "on call" at 2 a.m., parents absorbing kids' tears, or managers supporting a team in crisis. An observation from practice: on social media, where you scroll through feeds with news of wars or personal dramas, empathic distress builds up unnoticed. A 2021 Cleveland Clinic publication describes "empathic fatigue" as a numb feeling—numbness when you stop reacting altogether. You're not indifferent; your defense system just kicks in: isolation, irritability, loss of interest in your own life.

Intriguing Psychological "Tricks": Why Can't We Just "Switch Off"?

Here's where psychology adds some spice. Remember Stanley Milgram's 1960s experiment—the one where people "shocked" others supposedly for science? Many participants felt immense empathic distress but kept going because they couldn't stop. Why? Because empathy is an evolutionary mechanism: in primitive communities, those who "read" group emotions survived. But in the modern world, flooded with traumas, this mechanism glitches.

Another fact: women suffer from empathic distress more often than men, according to 2024 data in Child Development. Why? Socialization: girls are taught to "be sensitive," boys to "hold it together." But gender isn't destiny; the key is self-regulation. Psychologist Paul Ekman, creator of emotion theory, explains in his book Emotions Revealed: without skills to recognize your own triggers, empathy becomes an addiction. You "save" others because you can't save yourself from guilt.

And a neuroscience tidbit: recent psychological reviews describe how empathic distress increases depression risk by blocking "compassionate empathy"—the kind that motivates action, not self-destruction. Instead of "I'll help," you think "I can't handle it." It's like overeating: tasty at first, then nauseating.

What to Do About It? Not a Recipe, But a Hint for Balance

We won't list 10 steps here—you know breaks are good. But think: empathic distress is a signal to shift focus. Psychologists recommend "empathic distance": imagine someone else's pain as a cloud drifting by, not a rain flooding you. A study in Biological Psychiatry (on excessive affective empathy) showed that mindfulness meditation reduces distress by 30%, teaching you to separate "mine" from "theirs."

For medics, per Jackson, resilience can be trained. Not as a superpower, but as a muscle: daily rituals like journaling (logging emotions) or physical activity. In everyday life? Just say, "I hear you, but I need a break right now." That's not selfishness—it's preserving strength for real help.

The End of the Story: Empathy as a Choice, Not a Curse

Back to that room. You stand up, hug your interlocutor, but this time you don't absorb it all. You say: "I'm with you, but let's think about what to do next." Empathic distress doesn't make you weak—it reminds you that you're a human with limited resources. Studies show: those who learn to balance not only avoid burnout but become more effective in helping. Because true empathy isn't suffering together—it's the strength to support while staying whole.

If this resonates, reread Jackson's work from 2007—there's more detail there. Or just observe yourself next time someone shares their pain. You don't have to carry the whole world—just your piece.

References

• Jackson, D., Firtko, A., & Edenborough, M. (2007). An exploration of compassion fatigue in health professionals: A review of the literature. Nursing Inquiry, 14(3), 162-173.
• Batson, C. D. (2011). Altruism in Humans. Oxford University Press.
• Van Ballegooijen, W. et al. (2017). Low Mood Leads to Increased Empathic Distress. Frontiers in Psychology.
• Singer, T., & Lamm, C. (2009). The social neuroscience of empathy. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences.
• Ekman, P. (2003). Emotions Revealed: Recognizing Faces and Feelings to Improve Communication and Emotional Life. Times Books.