We’re told that empathy makes us better human beings.

That being empathetic means being kind, understanding, emotionally intelligent, and “good.”

And honestly, all of that is true.

Empathy is an essential relational skill. It allows us to attune, to care, to understand what another person is going through. It heals relationships. It creates connection. It softens conflict. It makes us human. I should know. I do this for a living!

I understand why empathy is often put on a pedestal, and rightly so. Empathy is what builds and maintains relationships. It connects, heals, and transforms.

But there’s a part of the empathy conversation that almost no one talks about. And you don’t really understand it until you hit rock bottom. Until your emotional bandwidth is so depleted that being there for others starts to feel like your soul is being slowly sucked out of you. Until every “Can you listen?” feels heavy. Until compassion turns into resentment. Until you realise that something that once felt like a strength is now draining you dry.

And that’s when the truth begins to surface.

Empathy toward others does not automatically mean self-neglect or self-abandonment, but many of us live as if it does.

On one end of the spectrum are people who don’t know how to be empathetic at all. They struggle with emotional attunement, can’t sit with feelings, and often dismiss or avoid emotional depth. But on the other end there are those who don’t know how not to be empathetic—they don’t know when to stop, don’t know where the line is, and fear that drawing a boundary will make them cold, uncaring, selfish, or “a bad person.”

So they keep giving, listening, holding space. They keep pouring even when they are completely empty. And here’s what no one tells you: too much empathy—without boundaries, without discernment—does not make you a good human being. It doesn’t make you evolved or noble. It’s a lie that you should always be empathetic.

Too much of it makes you resentful—toward yourself, others, and toward life—because when empathy keeps asking you to abandon yourself, it slowly rots into bitterness. It’s like being tied to a boulder and thrown into the depths of the sea. You don’t drown because you want to; you drown because you have no choice. You’re dragged down by other people’s emotions, needs, pain, chaos, and expectations, with no space left to breathe. Over time, it erodes your sense of self. You stop knowing what you feel, what you want, where you end and others begin. You feel hollow, empty, disconnected, and the cruel irony is this: you started with empathy to connect, but unbound empathy leaves you more alone than ever.

Often, this kind of empathy doesn’t come from abundance. It comes from a wound—from having to read the room too early or being the emotional caretaker before anyone ever cared for you or from growing up in environments where no one noticed your needs so you learned to notice everyone else’s, and slowly, empathy turns into a way to fix, prove, and chase.

You want to fix other people’s pain so you don’t have to feel your own. You try to prove your worth by being indispensable and chase connection by over-giving, over-understanding, and over-extending yourself. Hence, what looks like compassion on the outside is often survival on the inside. Over time, empathy stops being a choice and becomes a compulsion—not rooted in love, but in fear. Fear of abandonment, fear of rejection, fear of being unlovable unless you are useful, and that’s the moment empathy stops healing and starts hollowing you out.

So let’s get clear.

Empathy, when executed in a healthy way, looks like:

>> Being able to understand and care without absorbing another person’s emotions

>> Offering support without fixing or rescuing

>> Staying connected to your own feelings while being present with someone else’s

>> Knowing when to step in and when to step back

>> Caring without losing yourself

>> Choosing empathy, not compulsively performing it

But empathy starts to drain you when:

>> You feel responsible for other people’s emotions

>> You confuse understanding with tolerating harm

>> You stay longer than you should because “they’re hurting”

>> You suppress your needs to avoid being inconvenient

>> You feel guilty for needing space or rest

>> You equate empathy with self-sacrifice

>> You’re more emotionally available to others than you are to yourself

This is where empathy quietly turns into self-abandonment.

Empathy is not about erasing yourself to keep others comfortable. It’s about staying rooted in yourself while you care, and the most important empathy you’ll ever learn is not how much you can give to others but how well you can stay with yourself while you do it, because real empathy doesn’t ask you to abandon yourself to prove that you’re good.

It simply asks you to be human with boundaries.