What if… empath’s could change the world?

The conversation went something like this:
“How dare you? How dare you absorb other people’s feelings? Who gave you the right to do so?”
When one of my friends asked these questions, I was astonished, confused, and even hurt. I thought, WTF? Do you think I do it on purpose? This is me. I feel—your feelings, others’ feelings, everyone’s feelings. Your suppressed, tormented emotions and everyone around me. This is how I’m wired. It’s not something I can control or change! And definitely, it doesn’t make my life easier or, at times, bearable. It’s hell to feel so much, so intensely, ALL the TIME.
“What if I don’t want you to take away my pain? You have to allow people to feel what they need to feel.”
This conversation stayed with me for quite a while. Allow people to feel. I would love to. Allow people to deal with what they must deal with.
The question in me was: How? How do you feel but not absorb? How do you tune in, sense, but not embody anything that isn’t yours to carry—absolutely not yours?
This conversation planted a deeper question in me: Is it possible to be an empath, feel but not absorb? Sense but not embody?
And is it possible that society would be different if empaths stopped acting like sponges? Could an empath remain empathic without twisting and torturing themselves by absorbing all the suppressed pain from the world? Is there a way to allow people to deal with their feelings without them setting the world on fire?
Is it possible to be present, help people identify and allow their denied emotions to surface… feel… and let the world eventually change?
Maybe… if empaths were educated to feel but not absorb, to feel, be aware, share, and remain a channel without being a container, then maybe the scenery would be different—violence, bombs, and harm might be reduced. Maybe… only maybe… if suppressed, unidentified feelings were addressed, if people were educated about emotions, life could be easier for all of us.
Feel the world. Feel the feelings. But do not absorb.
Dear empaths, what are your thoughts? Do you ever ask yourself whether what you feel is even yours—or did you pick it up at the grocery store from the couple arguing in the queue? Or the annoyed cashier?
The truth is: being empathic doesn’t mean sacrificing your emotional sovereignty. Your sensitivity is a gift—if you learn to manage, protect, and channel it wisely. Not setting boundaries doesn’t make you more “spiritual” or loving—it makes you vulnerable to emotional depletion.
Being an empath is one thing. Being a hypersensitive empath can feel like a whole new level of WTF if you don’t have the right awareness. And let’s be honest, few people out there have the right attitude toward empaths.
Knowing you are an empath and just having to “suck it up” is not enough. Awareness is not enough. Telling empaths they must protect themselves, their energy, filter their environment—without giving proper tools—is not enough. Saying, “Just observe, don’t absorb”—is not enough. Saying, “Toughen up”—is complete nonsense.
No matter how many seminars or retreats one attends, no matter how many books are read, if the narrative remains the same, and the core belief is that empaths are doomed to feel, absorb, and embody everything… change will not happen. Guilt resurfaces, and old patterns overrun newly acquired wisdom.
Empath “types” aren’t boxes that exclude each other—they’re more like different channels of sensitivity. A hypersensitive empath may have several channels wide open at the same time:
Emotional: picking up people’s moods immediately
Physical: feeling others’ tension as headaches, stomach knots, or fatigue
Intuitive: “just knowing” when something is off before anyone speaks
Telepathic: catching people’s thoughts or finishing their sentences
Some empaths lean strongly toward one channel, but many experience a blend. The more sensitive someone is, the more likely they are to feel across different layers—emotional, physical, mental, and even spiritual.
What matters most—and is painfully missing in our education—is learning boundaries without guilt and letting go of the urge to “save” others. With proper grounding, boundaries, and a changed mindset, an empath doesn’t get overwhelmed by carrying all of these inputs.
Being an empath is like carrying a mirror of the world inside you. You feel joy, fear, love, and pain—not as distant concepts, but as pulses in your own body. A stranger’s sadness can weigh you down; a friend’s excitement can lift you higher than expected. The world feels both beautiful and overwhelming when experienced this way.
For many empaths, life begins as survival. From childhood or past experiences, we learn to absorb emotions, protect others, and navigate the world by responding to its needs—often at the cost of our own energy.
Before we become self-aware, empathy can feel heavy—like a constant stream of emotions that leaves us exhausted, overwhelmed, and tangled in other people’s struggles.
Yet, again, awareness alone is not enough.
I am immensely grateful for people who tirelessly share wisdom about our humanness, about emotional education, intelligence, and the importance of understanding feelings and their effects on our lives.
“It’s not about feeling better; it’s about getting better at feeling.”
—Dr. Gábor Máté
So simple. So clear. Genius.
What do we know about empaths? What do we know about feelings?
Since forever, empaths have been called crybabies, softies, drama queens, snowflakes, naive people-pleasers—just because they show tears, sadness, or react strongly to emotions. They are “too much” when upset, fragile, easily hurt, care deeply about others’ suffering, and trust or give people the benefit of the doubt.
By 2025, we might think we’re highly developed, yet most people struggle to name emotions. Many grew up in households where hugs were missing, intimate family moments were rare, and gentle emotions were discouraged. As children, they were rarely taught an emotional vocabulary—families and cultures often simplify feelings into “good” or “bad.” Trauma only makes this worse. Survival took precedence over noticing feelings, so many adults today simply say, “I feel bad” instead of naming sadness, loneliness, or disappointment. Finding the right words helps us see ourselves clearly and care for our inner lives.
Psychologists find that most people can only clearly name about 10–15 emotions. Research suggests humans experience far more—around 34 core emotions and over 100 nuanced ones. Yet, most people struggle beyond the basics, focusing on hiding emotions, staying poker-faced, and remaining “cool.” Sensitive individuals often get medicated or taught to numb their feelings to fit into the family’s generational emotional “sterility.”
Suppressing emotions is draining. Numbness is the easiest escape. People numb their feelings with work, busyness, gaming, drugs, or medication.
Education about emotions, and having an emotional vocabulary, is crucial. Naming feelings already brings relief, because the inner experience becomes “seen.”
How are you doing with feelings? Are you one of many who learned early to hide, suppress, and build ivory towers around discomfort? Can you stay present and allow feelings to surface? Do you feel shame or vulnerability when showing emotion?
Many families make feelings uncomfortable—anything outside a “normal reaction” often gets labelled or diagnosed. Nowadays, labeling emotional reactions or personality traits has become fashionable. Terms get overused without understanding their true meaning. Emotional numbness or apathy—functional freeze—is common. When someone still feels but hasn’t learned to regulate their nervous system, they are often sent to doctors for medication instead of holistic approaches that examine root causes and restore safety with feelings.
Empathy is a basic human ability. Everyone has it to some degree.
For empaths, life often feels like a constant emotional roller-coaster. How do you not absorb? How do you allow others to feel? For a long time, I was stuck on this question. Focusing on not absorbing left me exhausted—I would come home drained, needing two days to recover after one evening of socializing.
The shift in my mindset came when I realized that feeling emotions is a blessing—and I want people to have that chance while alive. Life passes in the blink of an eye; everyone deserves to feel the magic of humanness, the wholeness of being. God created humans as a masterpiece—from biology to every layer of our being, we are simply amazing.
I realized that feeling sadness without holding onto it—letting it be and releasing it—brings relief. I want my loved ones to experience this. Feeling anger, allowing it to show where boundaries were violated, and releasing it feels like a storm passing, leaving clarity. I want them to sense that. Allowing joy without guilt leads to gratitude and appreciation of the moment. Joy multiplies into gratitude, peace, and deeper connection when we truly allow ourselves to feel.
Allowing people to feel gives them the chance to heal—if they choose to.
The turning point for empaths comes with conscious awareness. Observing our own emotions, recognizing which belong to us and which are others’, and understanding patterns transforms empathy into a powerful skill. Self-awareness shows us that feeling deeply does not require surrendering ourselves. It teaches us to set boundaries, manage energy, and interact with the world without becoming an emotional vessel for everyone around us.
Being a conscious empath means noticing emotions without absorbing them all—choosing how and when to respond rather than reacting unconsciously.
With awareness, empathy becomes a gift instead of a burden. We can offer insight and compassion to those willing to lower their shields. We can hold space and show that it is safe to feel.
We can be connected while honoring our own needs. We can navigate relationships, work, and social settings without losing ourselves in the tide of others’ emotions.
Being an empath is not a weakness. It is a calling—to feel, reflect, heal, and illuminate the world. And once we embrace it with consciousness, life no longer feels like a burden.
Anna Konya, Tirana 2025