I feel you, way too much

It is very popular to be an empath. It is the new gluten intolerant or Tibetan meditation practicioner or Soul Cycle enthusiast. And I find it annoying. I am empath. And it can completely suck. Long before I knew there was a word for it, I would find myself overwhelmed in large crowds or malls or football stadiums or anywhere I found people gathering together in mass. Why? Because I couldn’t handle the energy. At a birthday party in grade school where I could feel how nervous and mean spirited people were, I wanted to throw up. A party where people are ‘acting’ a certain way. For the newbie, an empath is someone who feels everything in the room. When someone is upset, I get upset. How people feel about themselves or me, I experience physically. I know this sounds like bullshit. But sometimes it can be difficult to form relationships or be objective about a situation. When I am in a meeting and a coworker says something aggressive, I will literally feel has if someone has pulled something out of my belly. When I have sex with someone, I carry their energy around with me for months, sometimes years, which makes dating feel dangerous or like a completely bad idea. I can hear it when someone is talking about me, even when they are far, far away, like another state. One time a coworker used me to get at someone else and shamed me publicaly for not executing on a project correctly (it wasn’t my fault). I had to go to an event afterward and for the next 36 hours I felt as if hot acid had been poured on my outside. When I sit in a chair, I pick up what the person before me was experiencing. My eldest daughter once said, “People watch movies about witches, but in our house those things are real.”

Now it isn’t all bad. My sensitivity allows me to help people, have access to perspectives that others don’t, know when someone is lying and when I might be in danger. Once I had been out getting a beer after a semi-dramatic break up in my 20s. When I was coming up stairs of my apartment, a voice in my head said “they’ve been here.” I waited a beat and walked in just as several people ran from the apartment. I had been robbed.

I am writing this blog to understand myself better. Why I can help someone find freedom from something that has blocked them, but I can’t find someone I like enough to even have coffee with. Why I can bring physical relief to someone, but I write shopper marketing copy to pay my bills. Stay tuned, I have had a lot of adventures.

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