Empathy:  Do We Really Need It?

what is empathy

Before we begin to answer the question raised in the title, we need to define empathy.  I will ignore what the dictionary says in favor of my own definition.  My definition of empathy is “A feeling that somehow gets shared between two (or more people) and that helps each person feel closer to the other person.”  Years ago, when my first wife and I went to marriage counseling, she told the counselor, that I was the only person she knew who did not have any feelings.  For years, she had wondered about it but she finally concluded that I did not have any.  I cannot fault her for this.  I believed that Spock on Star Trek, was too emotional.  After all, he did have a human mother.

Forty-six years have gone by since that fateful counseling session and I have learned a lot more about empathy.  But to say that I am a master or even a journeyman in empathy would be an exaggeration.  Learning empathy is not as simple as that.  It is compounded by the fact that I see three types of empathy (This is my typology).  There is neg-empathy, neutral empathy, and positive empathy.  Most of my days are spent in neutral empathy.  I have had many occasions of neg-empathy.  Once in a great while, I get struck by lightning and have a glimpse of positive empathy.  They have become more frequent as I have aged but not frequent enough. (The opening picture above shows three types of empathy that psychology textbooks use.)  Again, I favor my own three types.

compassion versus empathy

Neg-Empathy

Neg-empathy is a complete disregard for how another person feels.  Sometimes it is intentional but most often it is inadvertent.  Culturally many of us are brought up to exhibit neg-entropy.  Here is one example:

A good friend is running with me on a mountain trail in Casa Grande.  He stumbles, falls, and twists his ankle.  I ask him if it is ok and can he still run.  He replies that it hurts quite a bit, to which I reply “Remember, when the going gets tough, the tough get going.”  I think I heard that line from John Wayne or Vince Lombardi.  Many men and maybe women in some cultures are brought up to disregard pain and to ignore suffering.  “I pulled myself up by my bootstraps, so should you.”  “The only thing you have to fear, is fear itself.”

Personally, I love a lot of these macho aphorisms.  My father used to tell me them all the time.  Like when I once came home battered and bruised from a fight that I had won with an older kid, and my father said.  “Next time you win a fight, look like you won it.”

People who are suffering from depression are often the victims of neg-entropy.  In trying to help them with lines like “Tomorrows another day” or “You worry too much,” we make things worse for them.  At best, we do not ameliorate or disperse any of their depression.

Neg-empathy does not make anyone feel better.  Comments from neg-empathy do nothing to share a sense of common concern or camaraderie.  At best, they are not helpful and at worse, they may just be mean spirited and cruel.

Neutral Empathy:

sympathyI started running in 1975 after being a very good bicyclist for many years.  I ran in freezing rain, below zero wind-chills and blistering heat.  I even went out one time and ran with a tornado coming through the neighborhood.  Like the U.S. Mail, nothing could stop me.  Over the years, I met many people who would tell me “I used to run but my knees went out and I had to give it up.”  I had enough sense not to tell them what I was really thinking so I usually said nothing or just a “too bad.”  What I was really thinking was “If you really wanted to you could still be running.” The latter comment would be an example of neg-empathy.  My silence was an example of neutral empathy.  I did not make any connection to the feelings that the other person had, nor did I much want to.  I could not identify with them since I ran “no matter what.”  I was better than they were.

Last year in April of 2022, I broke my finger in a fall while running on a mountain trail in Casa Grande.  I continued running and did not find out that my finger was broke until I had an Xray about two months or so later.  The finger throbbed and looked funny for much of this time.  This still did not stop my running.  The advice from many people was that it was just swollen, and the swelling would go down.

One of my favorite run days of the year is January 1.  It is a day that while many are making promises to exercise or lose weight, I go up and do a long hour run in the mountains. This year, January 1, 2023, I put my running gear on and drove to the mountain trailhead.  The closer I came to the trailhead, the more apprehension I felt.  I began to dread running on the mountain trails today.  What used to seem like fun was replaced with a scary feeling.  “When will I break my leg” kept going through my mind?

I finally decided not to run anymore (at least on these trails).  From now on I would hike the trails.  Since January, I have made about three hikes each week.  On each of my hikes, I have suffered from missing the challenges of trail running, feeling like a coward who quit, and just plain thinking of myself as a loser.

Today, I was experiencing the same feelings when suddenly, I realized that I would now be the one to have an excuse for not running any more.  My thoughts went to the numerous times I had encountered others with an excuse for not running.  What would I say to the people I met on the trail.  Should I apologize for not running?  Would they recognize me as the guy who had been running these trails for 12 years?  I did not want sympathy, but I was embarrassed before even meeting anyone else on the trail.

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I realized that I had never given anyone positive empathy for having to give up their running.  My keeping quiet was just an example of neutral empathy.  No support, no compassion, no closeness, no connection with how the other person was feeling.  Forty years after my counseling sessions, and the best I was doing was negative empathy.

Positive Empathy:

My shoulder hurts now from lifting too many weights yesterday.  With Karen gone East to visit her children, I have been doubling down on my exercise schedule.  I figured I could catch up and maybe even get ahead for the several days that I missed last month.  This idea of “catching up” is stupid.  It is fruitless and a waste of time.  Furthermore, it is much more likely to result in injury than sticking to a “normal” schedule.  So now my shoulder is painful and I have no one around to show me any empathy.  Karen would be running some cream or oil in my shoulder or giving me a massage or just telling me that she was worried about me, and that I should take it easy.  Karen is my main source of positive empathy.

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We all need positive empathy for the pains and outrageous misfortunes that happen to us in life.  There are two problems that we may have in getting this positive empathy.

  1. Too many people like me who are not good at giving positive empathy.
  2. Not enough people in our lives to give us the empathy we all need on occasion.

What happens to people who live alone or who have few friends?  I don’t really have a good answer to this.  I realize that there are people who visit shut ins.  People who visit prisons.  I wonder if this is enough.  Some of the studies on happiness suggest that people are less happy than they were years ago.

“While happiness increased globally up until 2011, it has been falling ever since. But this trend masks large differences in happiness across countries, with clear winners and losers.” World Happiness Report

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Some questions I have for you:

  • Is it possible to give ourselves empathy?
  • Can self-empathy replace empathy from other people?
  • What happens to people who never get any empathy?
  • Thanks for reading. I look forward to hearing your comments or responses. 

Autobiographies from the Dead – Josh the Teenager

Each semester the Graphics Multi-Media Students select a global issue that is meaningful to them and then create a logo and infographic about their issue.

Each semester the Graphics Multi-Media Students select a global issue that is meaningful to them and then create a logo and infographic about their issue.

For the next several weeks, my blogs are going to consist of “autobiographies” written by some very special people.  They have one thing in common.  They are all dead.  Some have a burial place and some were simply discarded like pieces of trash.  Their stories will be told by the deceased themselves.  They cry out from the fields, rivers and graveyards to speak.  I have heard their cries.  They want me to tell their stories to you.  They want you to know what their living and dying was for.  This week, Josh will tell you the story of his life and death.

Josh the Teenager

teen suicide by hangingThey are sorry now!  They are all weeping and crying.  They care more about me now that I am dead then they did when I was alive.  All I ever heard from Mom was her telling her friends how handsome I was and what I good student I was.  Bullshit!  The only time Dad ever talked to me was to tell me how well Robert (my brother) was doing in law school and why couldn’t I be more like him.

Robert was a real suck-up.  He is 21 years old and is forever gloating about his accomplishments in school and in sports.  The big shot was our high school football hero.  Dad spent all his time with him and never had any left over for me.  Robert was a four letter athlete and was in every league in town.  If he wasn’t getting A’s in school, he was getting medals and trophies for his athletic exploits.  I hated him.

I also have a sister Maria who is fourteen years old and the most popular girl in the high school.  That’s because she goes to bed with anyone who has a zipper in their pants, girls as well as boys.  Mom and dad think she is an angel.  She is the biggest slut in school.  My friends are forever making fun of me about her.  Like: “When can I come over and screw your sister?”

My father works for an investment firm as some kind of an analyst.  He makes good money but is always busy.  He probably invented multi-tasking and 24/7 work.  Anytime, I ever suggested doing anything together, his standard reply was:  “Great idea.  Let’s hold it for a while until I catch up on my accounts.”  I have been holding it for seventeen years and still waiting.  He can go to hell.  I hate him also.

My mom was some sort of a medical worker in the local hospital.  She did not like to cook or clean so we went out to eat a lot.  Twice a week, we had a housekeeper come in to do our laundry and straighten up the house.  Mom spent a lot of time at Robert’s ball games.  She also spent a lot of time shopping with Maria.  My mom liked to spent money on clothes and sometimes I could not decide whether Maria was the teenager or my mother was the teenager.  My friends all said that my mom was one hot MILF.

teen_suicide girl thinking about it.I am seventeen years old and a junior in high school.  I have a Facebook page and do lots of on-line stuff.  I hate school and I hate my teachers.  I hate most of the kids in school.  The majority of them are either jerks or snobs.  I don’t belong to any groups and I mostly hang around with one or two friends.  My father wanted me to play sports but I knew I could never be as good as my brother so why bother.  The teachers at my school treated me like I did not exist.  I was a B student and I can’t say I really excelled at anything.  Most of the time, I felt like a born loser.

I often thought of making a big name for myself by blowing up the school or maybe killing both of my parents and my sister and brother but I decided against it.  Not that I did not think they were good ideas but what if I screwed up?  My father was forever telling me what a screw up I was.  What if I screwed up my high school massacre?  What if I botched killing my entire family?  That would prove what a screw up I really was.  I decided that I could not risk it.  Safer to simply kill myself!

cd206d692c9e7c516d212dee1a3e-do-you-think-social-network-site-are-responsible-for-teen-suicide-and-cyberbullyI thought of shooting myself but that would be too messy.  I thought of jumping off a high bridge but that might not be fatal.  I had heard of too many people who had survived such falls.  I finally decided to hang myself.  I would hang myself in the closet at home.  That would be great.  They might not find me for a few days and they would be worried sick.  That would serve them all.

Anyway, I could be pretty sure if I killed myself at home mom and dad would be the ones to find me.  And sure enough they did.  The look on my mom and dad’s eyes was priceless.   There I was swinging from the clothes hook suspended by a leather belt which I had wrapped around my neck.  I had stood on a small step stool and kicked it far away so that I could have no second thoughts.  It was much less painful than I had imagined.  A few choking breaths, a feeling of swelling in my head and that was it.  Lights out!  I think I must have died about ten minutes after I kicked the stool away.

teen knife slashingI am hanging with my tongue and eyes bulging out.  My face is quite red and swollen.  I look rather pitiful.  There is a pool of piss on the floor under me and an awful smell coming from my pants. I suppose I shit myself when I died.  I am glad.  They deserve it.  I hope they are really sorry now for the way that they treated me.  I just wanted them to like me for who I was.  But no, I was never good enough.

It seems like our society is full of heroes and idols and celebrities and athletes and rich people and music stars and famous politicians.  I was a B person in an A society.  Nobody cared about me.  Nobody gives a damn about B people.  Not my mother, father, sister, brother or teachers.  I was not popular or smart or athletic enough to get the girls like the A guys got. The only girls that were interested in me were the losers like I was.  I went out with one girl once and that was my last date in high school.  We kissed a little but she got all agitated when I put my hand on her tit.  She asked me to take her home.  I was a loser with girls as well.

Well, now they will all be sorry.  Screw them.  I don’t care.  They had it coming.  I finally feel like somebody cares about me.  It only took my death before I really mattered to anyone.  I look forward to visiting my funeral service.  That should be funny.  I can imagine all the good things that they will say about me.  At last they will all be able to spend some time with me, even though I am now dead.

I am going to go look for God now.  I would like to ask Her why I was such a loser.  How come I did not get the brains or skills or something that would have made me stand out and be noticed?  Why was life so unfair to me when everyone around me seemed to get some sort of special treatment?   Maybe God will be able to tell me why I was a loser.

Time for Questions:

Can we spot potential teenage suicides?  Are we taking neglecting our teens?  What do we have to do to help decrease teenage suicides?  How does our culture contribute to the problem?

Life is just beginning.

Suicide (i.e., taking one’s own life) is a serious public health problem that affects even young people. For youth between the ages of 10 and 24, suicide is the third leading cause of death. It results in approximately 4600 lives lost each year. The top three methods used in suicides of young people include firearm (45%), suffocation (40%), and poisoning (8%).

suicide warningsDeaths from youth suicide are only part of the problem. More young people survive suicide attempts than actually die. A nationwide survey of youth in grades 9–12 in public and private schools in the United States (U.S.) found that 16% of students reported seriously considering suicide, 13% reported creating a plan, and 8% reporting trying to take their own life in the 12 months preceding the survey. Each year, approximately 157,000 youth between the ages of 10 and 24 receive medical care for self-inflicted injuries at Emergency Departments across the U.S.

Suicide affects all youth, but some groups are at higher risk than others. Boys are more likely than girls to die from suicide. Of the reported suicides in the 10 to 24 age group, 81% of the deaths were males and 19% were females. Girls, however, are more likely to report attempting suicide than boys. Cultural variations in suicide rates also exist, with Native American/Alaskan Native youth having the highest rates of suicide-related fatalities. A nationwide survey of youth in grades 9–12 in public and private schools in the U.S. found Hispanic youth were more likely to report attempting suicide than their black and white, non-Hispanic peers.  (Center for Disease Control and Prevention)

 

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