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For years, I was told I lacked empathy. I wasn’t the person people turned to for comfort. I wasn’t the one who cried during sad movies or sat in deep feelings with others. I was hardened—toughened by trauma, survival, and a life that required me to push through, not slow down to feel. If someone was hurting, I acknowledged it, but I didn’t absorb it. I moved forward because, in my world, lingering in pain meant weakness.

Now, something has shifted. I find myself carrying the pain of others in a way I never did before. I feel it in my chest, in my thoughts, in my sleep. It’s like my heart is wide open, and the suffering around me has a direct line into my soul. I see someone struggling, and instead of just recognizing their pain, I feel it as if it were my own.

Why? What happened to me?

The Breaking Point

Maybe it wasn’t one thing, but a series of moments that cracked the walls I had built around myself. Maybe it was watching my daughter navigate her own struggles and realizing I couldn’t just give her solutions—I had to sit in the feelings with her. Maybe it was seeing my son-in-law fight for his life, witnessing the raw helplessness of it all, and being unable to fix it. Maybe it was the work I do every day, seeing people claw their way out of the darkest places, understanding them not as statistics or responsibilities, but as humans with stories, fears, and dreams.

Or maybe it was me.

Maybe after spending so much of my life in survival mode, I finally felt safe enough to feel.

But there’s another layer to this that I can’t ignore.

Is My Savior Complex Fueling This Overwhelming Empathy?

The more I sit with these emotions, the more I realize this isn’t just about becoming more empathetic. It’s about how I process that empathy—how I carry it.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had an ingrained need to fix things. To be the strong one. The problem-solver. The one who sees pain and immediately thinks, What can I do? How can I make this better? This isn’t just caring—it’s responsibility.

This is what people call a savior complex.

It’s not about thinking I’m better than anyone else. It’s about feeling like I have to be the one to save them. Like if I don’t step in, if I don’t take on the weight, then I’ve failed them. And now that my empathy is stronger than ever, it’s becoming almost unbearable.

• I don’t just feel people’s pain—I feel responsible for making it go away.

• I don’t just see struggle—I feel like I have to intervene, even when it’s not my place.

• I don’t just care—I carry.

The Cost of Empathy and a Savior Complex

At first, it felt like a superpower—like I had unlocked a part of myself I didn’t know existed. But the more I felt, the more I realized how overwhelming it could be. Empathy isn’t just understanding—it’s absorbing. It’s feeling the weight of someone’s grief, their despair, their exhaustion. It’s watching someone struggle and hurting because you know you can’t take it away.

And sometimes, it’s paralyzing.

I’ve caught myself carrying burdens that aren’t mine, feeling emotions that drain me, and wanting so badly to make things right for others that I neglect myself. I’ve struggled to find the balance between caring deeply and not being consumed by it.

I’ve had to ask myself:

• Am I helping, or am I carrying?

• Am I supporting, or am I controlling?

• Am I present, or am I drowning in responsibility that isn’t mine?

Moving Forward

Your empathy is a gift, but your savior complex can turn it into a burden. The key is learning how to care without carrying. You don’t have to go back to the hardened version of yourself, but you also don’t have to drown in everyone else’s pain. There’s a middle ground—a place where you can feel deeply without losing yourself.

I’m learning that I can care without overextending myself. That I can love people without carrying their weight. That sometimes, being present is more powerful than fixing.

I don’t have all the answers yet. I may never have them. But I do know this:

I was once someone who couldn’t feel enough.

Now, I’m learning how to feel just enough.