When Our Empathy Becomes Complicity: Boundaries for Highly Sensitive Healers

A love letter to the tender-hearted who are learning to hold both softness and strength

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I need to share about something that's been sitting heavy on my heart lately. It's about how our greatest gift as healers and highly sensitive people—our deep empathy—can sometimes become the very thing that prevents real healing and justice from happening.

I know that might sting a little. I get it. Stay with me here...

The Empathy Trap

As someone who's spent years in healing circles, I've seen well-meaning, big-hearted people (myself included) tie themselves in knots trying to understand "both sides" of situations where there really aren't two equal sides. I've seen us prioritize keeping the peace over speaking truth. I've watched us enable harmful behavior because we can feel the pain underneath it.

Here's what I've learned: when we use our empathy to excuse harm instead of addressing it, we're not being compassionate. We're being complicit.

That friend who keeps making racist comments but "doesn't mean it that way"? That family member who misgenders your trans loved ones but "just needs time to adjust"? That colleague who talks over women in meetings but "grew up in a different generation"?

I'm not saying it's not beneficial to have some understanding about what's behind these scenarios. But our ability to feel their confusion, their fear, their defensive pain doesn't make their impact less harmful. And when we spend all our energy understanding their perspective while asking marginalized folks to be patient, we're not being neutral. We're choosing a side—and it's not the side of justice.

The Uncomfortable Truth About Conflict

Here's something the wellness world doesn't talk about enough: sometimes love looks like conflict. Sometimes the most caring thing we can do is get uncomfortable and speak up. Sometimes holding space means holding people accountable, not just holding their feelings.

I used to think that being spiritual meant being endlessly understanding. I thought that if I could just feel into someone's pain deeply enough, I could heal the situation through pure empathy. What I learned instead is that this approach often protected and enabled the person causing harm while asking those being harmed to keep absorbing the impact.

That's not healing. That's spiritual bypassing dressed up as compassion.

When Sensitivity Becomes a Shield

For highly sensitive people, we're often so attuned to emotional energy that historically, we'd do anything to avoid the sharp edges of conflict. We feel everyone's discomfort so intensely that we've contorted ourselves to smooth things over, even when the discomfort is necessary and appropriate.

But here's the thing: some situations are supposed to feel uncomfortable.

Racism should feel uncomfortable.

Transphobia should feel uncomfortable.

Watching someone be cruel to animals should feel uncomfortable.

That discomfort isn't a problem to be fixed—it's information to be honored.

When we rush to ease that discomfort through understanding and forgiveness before there's been acknowledgment or change, we're using our sensitivity as a shield against having to take a clear stand.

Reframing Boundaries as Love

Here's a different way to think about boundaries in this context. What if setting limits isn't about being mean or unforgiving? What if boundaries are actually how we create space for real healing to happen? Energy might be limitless, but if you think back to your own growth and healing, you might recognize that you were able to do the work because of the container holding you. Boundaries help create that container.

When we stop enabling harmful behavior, we're giving that person a chance to grow. When we refuse to absorb someone else's emotional dysregulation, we're modeling healthy nervous system boundaries. When we say "I care about you AND this behavior is unacceptable," we're offering them the gift of truth wrapped in love. These phrases also offer a space to call people in, instead of calling them out.

Also, I don't want to miss this important point. These moments need clear conversation. Avoiding confrontation by avoiding that person completely can be tempting, sure. You may have clarity, thinking, "I'm not going to be around that person anymore because they do this." But, without addressing these issues with the person, you're confounding the problem. The person might just fell confused, but harm likely continues.

Consider how we all need the complete or appropriate amount of information that it takes to be able to make the best decisions for ourselves. Ghosting doesn't give folks that necessary information. It can even create a power imbalance of superiority which kind of defeats the role of empathy in the whole equation, right?

Sometimes the most empathetic thing we can do is refuse to participate in someone's pattern of causing harm. Sometimes love means saying no. Sometimes holding space means taking up space.

Practical Steps for Tender Defenders

So how do we stay soft-hearted while getting comfortable with necessary conflict? How do we honor our sensitivity while still standing firm in our values?

Start with your body. Before those difficult conversations, take a moment to ground yourself. Feel your feet on the earth. Take three deep breaths. Remind yourself that you can be both loving and boundaried.

Practice the phrase "I care about you AND." This isn't about becoming harsh or punitive. It's about expanding your capacity to hold complexity. "I care about you AND I won't listen to you talk about trans people that way." "I love you AND I need you to stop interrupting me."

Remember that your comfort is not the goal. When you feel that familiar urge to smooth things over, pause and ask yourself: whose comfort am I prioritizing? What would love actually look like in this moment?

Find your people. Surround yourself with others who understand that justice and compassion aren't opposites. You need community that will support you in speaking truth, especially when it's hard.

Trust your initial gut response. Before your mind starts making excuses for harmful behavior, notice what your body feels. That tightness in your chest when someone says something bigoted? That sinking feeling when you watch someone be cruel? Trust that. Your sensitivity is giving you valuable information.

The Both/And of Healing

Here's the heart of the matter: you can be endlessly compassionate AND have clear boundaries. You can feel someone's pain AND refuse to excuse their harmful actions. You can stay soft AND get fierce when justice requires it.

The world needs your tenderness. But it also needs your courage. It needs empaths who won't let their gift of feeling become a trap of inaction. It needs healers who understand that sometimes the most healing thing we can do is refuse to participate in patterns that cause harm.

Your sensitivity is not a weakness to be managed—it's a superpower to be channeled. Let it guide you toward justice, not away from it. Let it help you feel not just individual pain, but collective pain. Let it move you to action, not paralysis.

The work of healing our world requires all of us—tender hearts and fierce spirits, deep feelers and clear thinkers, people who can hold space and people who can take space.

You don't have to choose between being loving and being brave. The world is asking you to be both.

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What would change in your life if you trusted that boundaries are an act of love? I'd love to hear your thoughts and experiences in the comments below.