25/01/2026
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about empathy fatigue.
It’s been a long time, years honestly, since I’ve cared deeply about global things the way I’m told I should. I don’t have it in me to emotionally invest in what’s happening in Venezuela, or America, or every crisis unfolding across the world. Not because I’m cold or heartless, but because my empathy is finite.
I have a daughter. I have relationships. I have people I love, I have clients right in front of me who actually need me. That’s where my empathy belongs.
I don’t think humans were ever meant to witness this much suffering, this much violence, this much destruction, constantly, visually, from every corner of the planet. We wake up and immediately consume graphic, sinister behavior like it’s normal. And then we wonder why everyone is exhausted, anxious, and emotionally drained.
So many of us are pouring empathy into global tragedies that we’re completely depleted by the time we turn toward our own lives. Our families. Our kids. Our communities. Sometimes there’s nothing left.
I’m starting to believe that being emotionally invested in everything everywhere is distracting us from what actually matters. Empathy isn’t meant to be infinite. It’s meant to be intentional.
And choosing where to place it isn’t selfish. It’s survival.