Written by Pranati R Narain
Edited by Bipasha
Illustrated by Spoorti Gowda
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The therapist had been in the business for almost ten years now. Like each year, New Year's Eve saw her office flooded by a deluge of clients pouring their hearts out about the families they never spoke to and the lonely New Year celebrations they had come to terms with. Whether it was the teary-eyed old widow whose husband had passed away a decade ago or the sullen teenager spending Christmas at two houses owing to his parents' divorce – the therapist had had a fair share of sessions filled with grief, remorse, and emotional pain. These people failed to see the cheer in the festive atmosphere, and understandably, most had nobody to share their celebrations with. As she ushered in her next client, the therapist felt the familiar hint of hopelessness that had engulfed her the previous year – so many people in turmoil, and she had barely managed to comfort a handful.
Elsewhere, the sound of a frenzied mob assaulted the ears. Conflict doesn't surface after consulting the calendar. With a cameraman in tow, a seasoned journalist was covering a conflict between two ethnic groups – one that had taken on the shade of a violent civil war that had uprooted families, homes, and any hope of peace. As the journalist stopped filming the horror unfolding around him, it hit him hard that there were no winners in this war. The excitement of celebrating the new year had failed to liven up the streets. It was, of course, all part of the journalist’s job to capture every intricacy of the civilians’ suffering. But he felt the last shred of empathy in him had been exhausted. This was his third assignment as a war correspondent, and he had seen far worse New Year's Eve incidents on the field.
Watching the journalist's live coverage, a professor was spending her New Year's Eve at home, poring over the affairs of the world on the global news. However, her expectations of seeing bright lights and positive market trends during the end-of-year festivities seemed shattered as the news unfolded before her eyes. From a journalist covering a gruesome civil war to an increased number of homeless people on the streets, it hardly reflected anything to celebrate.
She had to admit to herself that such disappointment on the news was hardly unexpected. As a professor, her career had shown her a fair share of suffering and negativity – from teaching the history of brutal wars to her students to patiently listening to the woes of students who came from broken families. As she continued gazing at the news on the screen, with each passing report of crime, she could feel the sheer empathy in her finally give way to emotional exhaustion.
The three individuals in question may have been in three unconnected realms of life. Yet, even on an otherwise joyful occasion such as New Year's Eve, they found themselves bound by a common emotional state – that of a sense of hopelessness, a lack of self-satisfaction, and ultimately, a desensitisation giving way to loss of empathy,
Repeated exposure to traumatised individuals – be it troubled clients, civilians in a war-torn country, or students in emotional distress – has been known to cause compassion fatigue in those engaging with them. Often witnessed in hospital staff and nurses dealing with affected patients every single day, compassion fatigue is a concept that must be brought to public awareness because any one of us may be at risk of falling prey to it. As average consumers of media, viewers of news channels have also shown signs of compassion fatigue due to the surge of stories depicting tragedy, suffering, and pain. The public naturally grows desensitised to such victims of suffering. This is especially true during festive seasons that repeatedly appeal for them to empathise with those in no position to celebrate.
There seems to be a cost of caring, which brings us to the question –
Is there such a thing as too much empathy?
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