Learning the Language of Empathy.

I’ve always been a deep feeler. Even as I kid I can remember feeling my way to the depths of emotions I did not even have names for yet. While I didn’t have the language to define these emotions, I knew them by how my body responded to each one. I knew them by the other things they made me feel. 

I knew fear by the way my hands shook. I knew embarrassment by the red of my face. I knew grief by the ache in my chest, the gaping hole that couldn’t be filled. I knew anger when the red in my eyes made it hard to form the sentences I wanted. I knew jealously when I was mean to a friend for no reason at all. I knew insecurity when I felt I needed to run and hide. I knew shame was present when I simply felt inherently wrong without explanation.  

I knew happiness through natural smiles and feeling lighter. I knew hope was when I believed everything was going to be okay even when the circumstances didn’t suggest it. I knew inspiration was when I’d write or sing or dance in my room late at night. I knew freedom was exploring the woods behind my childhood home all alone. I knew gratitude was when I’d say 'thank you' and really, truly mean it. I knew awe and wonder felt like magic, like anything was possible. I knew love felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest.

And as if understanding my own emotions was not enough of a challenge, I found as I got older that I could have just as strong of a response to the emotions of other people. I could look at people, and it felt like my heart would leave my chest and jump into theirs and make itself at home. It felt like being broken and given to other people all the time—I would later learn the name for this was empathy. 

For me it was inevitable that empathy would come naturally. I was wired this way. When the good Lord put my heart in my chest, He declared that I would feel deeply for the glory of Him. Like most things, it is a gift and a burden that I will spend my life learning how to navigate. 

However, for some people empathy does not come as naturally. For some people naming their own emotions is a daily battle, much less feeling with other people. 

I think there is this idea that empathy is supposed to come naturally, and if you struggle to identify your own emotions or with the emotions of other people you are not kind or intentional or deep enough. I have many friends who regretfully admit that they do not speak the same language of feelings and emotions that I do. And I—being me—feel so deeply their sense of failure and defeat. Their shame in not being what they think someone else needs. I can feel their deep desire to love well in this way, to sit with the people in their lives and understand, too. Their wish to know their own hearts. 

But here’s the thing—empathy is a muscle. One that has to be worked out and loosened up. One that requires discipline and effort and a choice. It requires sitting with your own heart and understanding everything within its beats. It requires hearing the heartbeat of another and not giving up when its rhythms don’t sound like your own. 

It’s about opening up to new perspectives, new ideas, new language. You’re a kid again, grasping for the words to explain what you do not yet understand. And can I tell you what a wonderful place that is to be? To be like a child, at the mercy of God to teach and grow and soften you up. 

You are the opposite of me, and we live as such, balancing each other out in ways that are needed and good. From you I learn the art of thinking and feeling. I learn stability and order. I learn boundaries and how to not let this heart on my sleeve consume me. I learn to move from what I'm feeling and thinking into actual action.

And from me I hope you learn the way to your own heart. I hope you find peace in sitting in what you don’t understand, in the feeling with instead of trying to fix. I hope you know and believe that God made you the same as me, declaring loud the gifts and graces that you will use for His glory. And that it’s okay if those are different from mine—if empathy doesn’t come naturally. I hope you know you're still a feeler and a lover and a gift to people's suffering and trials and emotions.

So take your time with the learning of this new language. Work the muscle and embrace the soreness that will come, knowing that you do not venture into the depths of your heart all on your own. Knowing who you are is already enough.

words by Jacqueline Winstead and photo by Sarah Mohan