Empathy I’ll give, but pander to self-pity, really?

Empathy is the power of care in a world that often doesn’t. And yet, we might suspect that there are plenty of indicators that the vast majority of the world, like ourselves at least as a representation of our microculture, really does care to care.

But there is often the taking advantage of such care.

It’s a known fact, for instance, that empaths are more likely to land in a relationship with someone who will take advantage of the empathy on offer, especially through the employment of self-pity. Yes, it’s a common phenomenon to see empaths and narcissists team up as partners or feature in family dynamics; there are no winners even if the narcissist insists on winning.

A therapist friend once said to me, “The world needs more highly sensitive people, not less.” Of course, I agreed. But highly sensitive people can well exhibit both empathy and self-pity.

What I find, however, is people who are highly sensitive usually eventually feel guilty for their self-pity and usually they repent. There is another kind of person, however, who maximises the empathy on offer and they wring it out with self-pity that has no guilt nor repentance about it. The narcissist is clearly indicated in that they do not do repentance.

A self-justified self-pity takes no prisoners. You bow to its demands or else—the stakes are raised.

For empathy to truly work so it’s a venerable weapon for good, it cannot be manipulated by the person who has weaponised self-pity. Indeed, when that occurs the ‘empathy’ has become something that is no longer a force for care, but an enabler for the narcissistic. Such ‘empathy’ is worse than hopeless.

It has ceased to be empathy. It has been contorted into something dangerous.

That’s right; the narcissist has mastered the ability to extract pity. And if there is to be further exposure of this mastery, all we need do is become a little less reactive to their sorrowful overtures that are actually designed to exploit such care.

Perhaps they know when to be quiet and sullen and even tacitly supportive; to get their own way. Watch for any string that’s attached. Time always tells. If they genuinely deserve our empathy, they won’t demand it, whether that’s an overt demand of, “You really don’t care about me, do you?” to a covert demand that isn’t spoken in words, but may be discerned in body language and gestures.

We all need empathy from others from time to time, just as we should be adept at giving it. And the nature of relationships is they should be a little give and a little take. We all need care at times, just like at other times we’re better positioned to provide that care. It’s always a privilege and a blessing to do so.

But it’s incumbent on us to not be taken advantage of by people, especially family and partners, noticing how innate our family roles become; where we may be sucked into enabling someone who has weaponised their self-pity and always seem to get what they wish.

It does them no good for us to pander to their whims, and it does them a service to receive a tougher, truth-laced love that says, “No, treating me and others like that—through a pitiful selfish self-pity—is quite enough, already. You can have my care, but I won’t allow my care to be manipulated.”

For empaths to carry through with this love of shrewd stewardship, however, a high degree of self-discipline is required. A clever narcissist loves a challenge!

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash