I Seem to Feel Nothing—But That Isn’t the Truth
A moment of deep sorrow has touched the life of one of the people I have long considered part of my karmic circle. In the past, such events would move me instantly into action. I would reach out without hesitation, offer comfort, speak words that soothed, and make myself wholly available—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—to ease their pain. I would enter their experience with the intention of being a calming presence amidst the storm of their grief.
But something has shifted. When I received the most recent news, my instinct wasn’t to lean in, but to pull back. My response felt muted, emotionally distant, and even dismissive. I wanted to offer only the barest acknowledgment—a gesture that would end the communication quickly. It felt as if I no longer had the time or energy to get swept into another wave of someone else’s sorrow.
I told myself, I feel like I don’t care. But that’s not the full truth. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s that I no longer want to suffer. I realize now that in the past, I immersed myself in other people’s pain—absorbing their grief, shock, fear, and hopelessness—believing that my presence could shine some light, bring calm. And though I’ve always let it go eventually, the emotional toll stayed with me longer than I admitted.
Today, I don’t want to walk that road again. I find myself craving emotional distance. I want to know as little as possible. I don’t want to be drawn into the sorrow of a heart that has been broken too many times and now teeters on the edge of despair. It’s not that I’m indifferent—it’s that I am protecting something fragile within myself.
Maybe I do care—but from afar. Maybe I’m choosing not to engage because I’m finally learning the cost of always showing up. Perhaps I was never meant to be the one who carried others’ pain in the first place, but I stepped into that role because no one else would. And now, I no longer want to be that person. My past efforts, offered freely and with care, were rarely met with gratitude, love, or even basic respect. Maybe I misunderstood the connection. Maybe I was just a tool—something useful in a time of need.
I now see that being caring and being used are two very different energies. And I may not have understood that distinction until now.
I still believe in compassion. I still feel a calling to serve. But not all acts of service are healing. Some only perpetuate cycles of suffering—mine and theirs. And so, I’ve chosen to stop. Not from apathy, but from a new wisdom that honors the worth of my own heart, too.