Did you know that empathy is not the same as compassion? What now?
I recently learned that there’s a difference. Empathy is when you understand the emotions of an individual and share them. Compassion takes it one step further and involves action. It is understanding the individual and then acting upon it, potentially helping them. My therapist introduced me to this difference almost two years ago.
Unwavering empathy is a challenge that I still work to develop. I am always willing to help anyone in need, however, my difficulties lie in understanding challenging individuals. I can certainly empathize with people who are objectively good or good people who make mistakes, but empathizing with a truly flawed person is hard. Regardless, it’s been a goal of mine for some time (and it’s one I plan on achieving).
My father has always been my greatest teacher. When faced with any opportunity or challenge, he is the first person I go to for advice. His incredibly wise words always give me what I need–whether it be encouragement, a reminder of who I am or a change in perspective, he has an analogy for it all.
When it comes to developing an unwavering sense of empathy, he has two analogies that hold a special place in my heart and guide me towards the person I aspire to be.
First and foremost: the wounded animal analogy.
When an animal is injured and someone comes to help them, they snap because they don’t know any better. They snap because of their past experiences, or perhaps, because they feel fear. They snap because they are hurting deeply.
Think of a dog in a shelter. It might’ve had a challenging life up until that point. So much that it’s hard to trust people, lest it be hurt or abandoned again. This dog might lash out as people inch closer, even if it’s to offer comfort. It’s because they are hurt, not just because they intend to hurt. Now think about if this dog is adopted… These trust issues won’t dissipate immediately. It will take time, as well as compassion from its new owners, to aid the dog in the process of lowering its walls.
If we apply this lesson to our peers, it’s possible that people act out because they are hurting. Not all wounds are skin deep, some wounds are not visible to the eye. Maybe a past experience has an iron grip on them. Maybe they fight an invisible battle that onlookers cannot possibly comprehend. There’s no way of knowing what someone is going through or even what they have gone through. All you can do is offer kindness and compassion.
My father’s second infamous analogy: building a home with very different skill sets.
Think of someone who has gone to school for architecture, who has spent years getting their hands dirty, mastering the art of building structures. You would expect this person to be extremely handy because they are well-equipped. So well-equipped that they might be able to build a house on their own if instructed to… Now think of someone who completely lacks any semblance of handiness. Hand them a hammer and instruct them to build a home–it’s a complete different story.
Of course, it will be far more difficult for this individual. Why would they know how to build a home when they’ve never done anything similar? On the other hand, building is like breathing for the architect. It’s something that they can do with ease, without much thought even. Some people are well-equipped, they have a variety of tools (or skills) at their disposal. Others may not be skilled at that specific endeavor, but perhaps their skills lie elsewhere. These differences make the world a special place.
This is something that is preached in basic economics–a division or specialization of labour. The idea is that people focus on their specialized tasks, rather than attempting to be self-sufficient. This specialization allows people to focus on their strengths while outsourcing areas of weakness to stronger individuals. We’re all inherently different–and it’s not at all a bad thing.
People, much like the sheltered-dog and the architect, have differences that are informed by all of their experiences. I am who I am because of the experiences leading up to this moment. The good, the bad, the in-between–all of it has contributed to this incredibly complex, yet imperfect, person that I am. It’s helpful to offer that same empathy to others, to understand that their experiences make them who they are.
At the end of the day, our differences make the world an exciting place. A world in which we’re all the same is a world I hope we never see.