Have you ever walked into a room and suddenly felt a shift in energy? Or maybe you’ve walked in on someone’s conversation, and as soon as they stop talking, you get the sense that you’re the topic? Something deep inside tugs at your gut, and you just know, they were talking behind your back. What about the time you were driving and felt compelled to take a different route, only to find out later that you avoided a horrible accident?
We’ve all had those moments where our sixth sense shows up, nudging us toward something we can’t quite explain. Some people tap into it more easily than others, but almost everyone has experienced that moment when something feels… off. Maybe you’ve had déjà vu, that strange sensation where everything slows down, and suddenly you’re overwhelmed with the feeling that where you are, who you’re with, and what’s happening is familiar. As though you’ve been there before, maybe even dreamed about it, but can’t quite grasp the memory. Is it coincidence? Are we just overthinking? Or are we really tapping into some kind of higher intuition?
The answer to that question? It’s personal. Not everyone’s comfortable with the idea of being tuned in like that. I’ll admit, when I was younger, I didn’t have the vocabulary to explain myself, and I was called “weird” by people who didn’t care to understand. But here’s the thing: everyone has access to these gifts. For some, it’s just a choice and I was born an empath. For the uninitiated, an empath is someone who feels the emotions of others, even when they’re not going through the same thing. Now, you might be thinking, “Duh, I know what empathy is. I learned that in grade school!” And you’d be right. We all know the saying: “Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes.”
That’s empathy. But being an empath? That’s a whole other ball game. Imagine feeling everyone else’s emotions 24/7. Emotions are a normal part of life, joy, sadness, excitement, fear, crankiness, exhaustion, peace, silliness, love… you name it. We’ve all been taught to express them, and some of us know exactly what we’re feeling and why. If we’re feeling down, we can usually pinpoint it. Call a friend, watch a funny movie, go for a run. Some turn to food, others to alcohol (and some… let’s not even go there).
But imagine, for a second, that the feelings you’re experiencing aren’t even yours. You’re walking along with a perfectly fine mood, ready to hit the mall, and then, bam! Out of nowhere, your stomach starts to hurt. You know it’s not hunger, but you push through, thinking, “Okay, I’m fine… just ignore it.” Until you realize, “Crap!” You need a bathroom, immediately. Public restrooms, especially in department stores, are my personal pet peeve. The smell alone is enough to trigger a gag reflex that could challenge even the most seasoned daredevils. And don’t get me started on the “who-was-here-before-me” thoughts. (Trust me, we’ve all been there.)
You finish the necessary business, return to your shopping mission, but your body isn’t quite on your team anymore. You push through, ignoring the urge to call it quits, but then, here comes the second disruption. You pass a young mother with her crying toddler, and BAM! A wave of anxiety hits you. You feel that baby’s frustration like it’s your own. You look at the mother, who’s frantically searching for a pacifier, and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by embarrassment and desperation. It’s like you’re in her head.
“Please don’t do this now. I’ve got no milk left and you ate a cookie, why are you still awake?! Where’s that damn pacifier?”
In that moment, you send a prayer of thanks to the universe that it’s not you dealing with the toddler, but that only lasts until you spot a group of teens in the distance. Some look like they’re in vacation mode, while others could probably light up a room in a blackout. One looks like they’ve had too much caffeine, and suddenly, you feel jittery, anxious, and wait a minute, insecure?
Hold up. These feelings? They’re not yours. You realize, once again, that you’ve just absorbed someone else’s emotional state. Time to make a swift U-turn.
But wait—there’s more! You try to escape it all by heading into a store, hoping for some peace and quiet, but the clerk is giving off bored, hungry vibes. You feel it—his tired legs, his hunger, and all you can think of is sitting down with some Chick-fil-A fries. Funny, you weren’t hungry when you walked in, but now? Now, you could really go for some salt. You leave the store and head straight to your car, avoiding your usual fast-food stop, feeling completely deflated.
That’s the life of an adult empath. And let me tell you, trying to navigate this mess as a kid? That’s a whole different ball game.
The Young Empath
As a young empath, large group settings were my personal version of hell. I had no idea that what I was feeling wasn’t just me. It was everyone else’s emotions too. I was an open door, just wide enough for all the negative and positive baggage of others to flood in. Picture a little girl preschool aged, overwhelmed by emotions she couldn’t even name, much less understand. I spent a lot of time suffering alone, feeling like I was drowning in everyone else’s moods. Sometimes it was so intense I would just shut down.
I remember so many moments when I felt trapped by the weight of everything and everyone, paralyzed, unable to speak. When this happened, the nice people would say, “Oh, she’s just shy.” But when those nice people were nowhere in sight, I’d hear the cruel shouts of, “DO YOU TALK? Hello? Anyone home?”
And in my mind, I was screaming, “YES! I DO TALK AND I’M RIGHT HERE!” But, of course, not a single word came out. A complete waste of energy. It’s like I was frozen, trapped inside my own body. I didn’t understand why it was happening, but I felt every bit of it. Sometimes, the anxiety would be so intense, I’d forget to breathe and that’s when the tears would come. Was this the beginning of my anxiety? Who knows, but I’m pretty sure it’s the first chapter of my emotional rollercoaster.
Now, my parents were very young when they had kids. My dad worked six days a week as a car sales manager in Manhattan, which, as you can imagine, came with a truckload of stress. He’d get home late, tired, annoyed by traffic, and—let’s not forget—hangry. And his stress? It seeped out of him like bad cologne. The moment he stepped through the door, I could feel it. Of course, I didn’t know that’s what was happening at the time. I just assumed he was this scary guy with a booming voice and presence who did not like small children. So, I hid. I’d avoid him because I couldn’t bear to feel the cold rush of anxiety that came with his energy. My sisters, on the other hand? They seemed completely unfazed by Dad. They talked to him like he was a human being, not some kind of terrifying giant. They’d even argue with him—something I could never have imagined. I envied them. Their relationship with him appeared so easy, like they didn’t carry any emotional baggage. I thought, “Well, Dad must love and care for them more than me.”
Looking back now, I get it. The unease I felt around Dad wasn’t because he didn’t love me, it was because I was an empath. Every ounce of stress, fear, and anxiety Dad felt, I felt too. But as a little girl, I didn’t have the tools to understand it. Heck, I didn’t even have the vocabulary. So, I interpreted it all wrong. To this day, Dad still says, “Sammy was afraid of me when she was little.” And he’s right. I was scared. But now, I know why.
The Empathetic Chronicles 