3 In-the-Moment Practices for helping without taking on their pain
Picture this.
You’re sitting across from someone you love—your partner, your child, your parent—and they’re hurting. Something in your body tightens. Maybe it starts in your throat, creeps into your chest, lands behind your eyes. You feel their pain almost as if it’s your own.
So you do what you’ve always done.
You fix.
You’re good at it.
You offer solutions. You make the call. You soothe and manage their emotions—partly because you’re thoughtful and capable, but also because fixing helps you avoid what’s rising in you.
If you were to pause and really feel it?
Ugh. It’s just too much. Too intense.
So you keep moving. Keep helping. Keep fixing.
But this kind of helping—it’s not just about their relief.
It’s about yours.
And the tricky thing is, it doesn’t actually help in the way you hope it will—not for you, and not really for them either.
Because when we help from a place of urgency, it’s hard to stay grounded, attuned, or connected to what’s actually needed.
And it’s not just unhelpful for you—it’s not helpful for them either.
When we rush in to fix, we often interrupt the other person’s emotional process. We may take away their chance to actually feel what they’re feeling. And one of the most important parts of healing or navigating something hard is being allowed to stay connected to those feelings.
They might experience momentary relief when we jump in—but it comes at a cost. Because they don’t get the chance to move through their experience.
And ironically, when we abandon their process to manage our discomfort, we’re no longer really with them.
Sometimes the most supportive thing we can do is stay present—without fixing, minimizing, or rushing.
Just be there, and let them feel what they need to feel.
Imagine This…
Imagine sitting with someone you love while they’re struggling—and being able to stay rooted in yourself.
Imagine feeling your empathy rise, but not being swept away by it.
You’re present, attuned, and caring—but not overwhelmed.
You know what’s yours and what’s theirs. You can sense when to offer support, and when to simply witness with warmth and steadiness.
You walk away from the interaction not drained, not resentful, but intact.
And maybe even a little more connected—to them, and to yourself.
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And that’s exactly what I’m going to offer you here: three practical, science-backed practices you can use, in the moment, to stay grounded in yourself while still showing up with care.
Why Absorbing Others’ Pain Isn’t a Flaw-Your Brain Is Wired for Empathy
This isn’t dysfunction. This is empathy.
It’s built into your biology. Your nervous system is wired to respond to the facial expressions, vocal tones, and emotional states of others. It’s part of how we bond, how we co-regulate, how we care.
There’s even research showing that facial mirroring is so powerful, people who receive Botox—temporarily inhibiting their facial muscles—may experience a decrease in emotional empathy. Another fascinating study found that taking common painkillers like acetaminophen can blunt the natural drive toward compassion.
This is the beauty of being a connected human. When someone is hurting, your system naturally lights up. You feel their pain, and your body prepares to lean in, to help. That’s not something we want to get rid of.
What I’m offering isn’t about shutting that down—it’s about enhancing it.
Not numbing your empathy, but learning how to stay with it in a way that’s skillful, sustainable, and strengthening for you, too.
Practice 1: Helping Without Losing Yourself
If you’ve read any of my work, you probably know I’m going to start with the body. So here’s step one.
When those intense feelings rise up—and the urge to jump in and fix becomes almost unbearable—pause and anchor yourself in a part of your body.
Something neutral, like your left foot.
Say to yourself:
“I’m 95% with this person, and 5% in my left foot.”
Then actually feel your left foot. Wiggle your toes. Sense the contact with the ground.
When I’m in a session, I often anchor in my lower belly—the center of my body. But I suggest feet here because they’re often grounding and less emotionally charged. That’s key: you want to choose a part of your body that doesn’t feel too activated. If your distress is in your chest or throat, don’t go there. Choose something steadier.
Why it works:
Research calls this the self–other distinction.
When you’re overwhelmed with empathic distress, your brain can’t always tell that someone else is suffering—it reacts like it’s happening to you.
But when you bring your awareness back into your body, even just a little, you remind your system that there’s a boundary between their pain and yours.
That boundary doesn’t disconnect you—it allows you to stay present without becoming consumed.
And that’s what makes your care more skillful, more sustainable, and more truly helpful.
Practice 2: Want to Be There Without Burning Out? Here’s the Mindset Shift That Helps
Now that you’ve anchored in your body, you’re more resourced to turn your attention back to the person who’s hurting—with less urgency and more clarity.
This next step invites you to shift your attention onto the other person.
Because what balances empathic overwhelm isn’t withdrawal—it’s love. It’s the warm, steady feeling of care that naturally gives rise to compassion.
According to compassion research, those who can stay with suffering and cultivate feelings of warmth, appreciation, or care are more resilient and more effective in their support.
So here’s how to do that:
- Bring your attention back to your loved one.
- See if you can connect with any felt sense of care, affection, or love toward them.
- Ask yourself: Can I feel my care for this person in my body?
- Then, if it feels right, offer that care—mentally or physically.
- Imagine holding their hand.
- Say quietly in your mind, “May you be free of suffering.”
- Or: “May you feel held,” “May you know you are loved,” “May you be sheltered by grace.”
As you do, notice what shifts in your body.
Even in the middle of someone else’s pain, you might feel a sense of connection. A bit of steadiness. Maybe even hope.
That’s compassion. Not just feeling for someone—but being able to stay with them, without losing yourself.
Practice 3: The Key to Showing Up Without Overextending Yourself
Compassion doesn’t just run on empathy—it runs on hope.
Specifically, the kind of hope that says: “There’s something I can do here that might help.”
You don’t need to fix the situation. You don’t need to take away someone’s pain.
But you do need to have a sense that your presence, your care, or your action could make some kind of meaningful impact.
If you don’t feel that? If you’re totally depleted, maxed out, or disconnected from your own internal resources—then even if you feel love and even if you’re being mindful—your system might not activate the internal motivation to stay connected.
This is what researchers have found:
When we believe our actions could lead to something positive—even just a small moment of relief or support—it triggers a different neural response. Areas of the brain associated with dopamine, reward, and approach motivation light up. And those systems are key to sustainable compassion.
So in moments of empathic overwhelm, check in:
Do I have enough in me right now to show up in a meaningful way?
What do I have to give that’s real—not performative, not self-erasing—but grounded and true?
It could be as simple as a warm look, a validating sentence, or a quiet presence.
What matters is that you’re offering it from a place of integrity, not depletion.
This is what helps compassion stay steady—and what helps you stay whole.
A Final Word on Absorbing Others’ Emotions
If you’ve felt overwhelmed by your own caring—if other people’s pain sometimes feels like too much—you’re not alone. And you’re not broken.
Your empathy is not the problem. It’s part of your strength.
These practices aren’t about caring less—they’re about finding a way to care that includes you, too.
Because when you can stay present without getting pulled under, something powerful happens:
You become more grounded, more connected, and more effective in your care.
And maybe—just maybe—you walk away from those moments not drained, but strengthened.
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