Sympathy vs. Empathy

Sympathy versus empathy.  Now, I'm no Brene Brown, so if you want to learn about this topic for real, I HIGHLY recommend going to YouTube and typing in Brene Brown.  She's got some great TED Talks and also a cute little animated video (here ya go: https://youtu.be/1Evwgu369Jw)

But anyways. Sympathy versus empathy. They both serve great purpose and I think they are both necessary to truly connect with another person.  Some people tend to be naturally more empathetic than others, and some people are really good at being sympathetic and showing up in those times of need. To me, the best way to describe it is this:

Me:  I'm having a hard day and I'm really emotional and I feel like I just can't get off the bathroom floor. It's too hard.

Sympathetic: I'm sorry you're sitting on the bathroom floor. 

Empathetic: I'm sorry you're sitting on the bathroom floor. Can I come sit with you?

Sometimes we need the sympathy. When something goes wrong you don't necessarily want the cashier at the grocery store or your kinda weird coworker offering to come sit on your floor (although I have great coworkers who have become friends, and I'm sure there are plenty of empathetic cashiers). 

But empathy? The willingness to crawl through the muck with you? The ability to say 'I've been where you've been in some way, shape, or form, and I am here with you now."  That is everything. 
A few key points about empathy. 
1.  Empathy fuels connections. 
2.  Empathy is feeling WITH people. 
3. Empathy is a vulnerable choice to  connect with someone on a deep emotional level. 
4. Empathy never starts with "at least". 

Sometimes empathy is uncomfortable. You have to go back and remember a time when you were on the bathroom floor or when you felt...(insert emotion here),  and that is uncomfy for sure. But as the all knowing, ever wise Brene Brown said, "rarely can a response make something better.  What makes something better is connection." 

*sympathy vs. empathy pictures I painted whilst sitting on the bathroom floor*

Life's Tunnels.

I'm currently sitting in an airport,  after a weekend of coming the closest I've come to following a meal plan in a long time. I will not cry in an airport. 

This weekend I had a quick trip to visit my best friend and her 2 girls. It was a great weekend and I never feel more like my true self than when I am with old friends and sweet children. 

Big cities are fun and there's lots of sights and things to do. There's also a lot of tunnels. I swear my Uber driver took every tunnel in the surrounding area. I always think to myself,  "Oh a tunnel! This will be fun!" (Because I am 5 years old). You get in the tunnel and it's dark and kind of feels like another world.  It's fine for the first minute. Then I panic.  I'm closed in, I'm stuck, there's no light, and I can't get out. I'm as far in as I am out and that terrifies me. Here's the thing, I could turn around- go back. But then I'd have to start all over again. Getting where I'm going would take twice as long and I'd eventually have to go through the tunnel. I could also freeze. (That's my personal favorite). I could just stop in my tracks,  not moving forward, not moving backward. Just frozen in the middle.  This is problematic because, while you aren't going backwards, you're definitely not moving forward, and you are stuck in the in-between, which can feel dark and scary and confusing. Really, the best way to get through the scary tunnel situation? Through. Through the dark and stuck and scary. Just close your eyes, breathe, and keep going. "The only was out is through." Cliche? Yes. Terrifying? Yes. True? Also yes. 

Easy? No.  

This reminds me so much of where I am in recovery right now. To be honest, a lot of times I find myself running back to where I came from, doing everything I can to avoid the tunnel. The discomfort.  The feelings.  Sometimes I get brave and push through,  often getting frozen and stuck in the middle. I've been through the tunnel.  I can think of a time I was through the tunnel, on the other side. There was so much more light. And there was still some dark.  I got scared and went backwards through the tunnel.  I think every time you successfully make it through the tunnel,  the tunnel becomes a little shorter, a little less scary. The tunnel is scary, but familiar, so I find myself trying to rest in the tunnel. Just a little bit longer, then I'll choose. Then I'll move. And then eventually life comes along. Move or be moved, you cannot stay in the tunnel. And that's a lesson I'm working on now.