Empathy vs. Compassion: A Reframe
- Bethany Blaine
- Oct 8
- 4 min read
Updated: Dec 1
Picture this: one of my kids is upset.
If I stay in empathy only:
Within seconds, my nervous system mirrors his. My heart races, breath shortens, shoulders tighten. I feel the weight of his frustration as if it’s mine. My voice raises, my patience thins, and suddenly we’re both caught in the same storm without a life raft. Instead of being a calm presence, I’ve doubled the chaos.
When I shift into compassion:
I still feel the pull of his emotions, but I pause. I take a slow breath, place a hand on my chest, and notice my feet on the ground, giving a little toe wiggle as proof. I remind myself: “This is his storm, not mine. I can be steady.” My body softens, my voice is steady, and my calm becomes an anchor he can tether to. Instead of two nervous systems spiraling, we move through the moment together with one leading, one following until the storm passes.
A Lesson from Tony Pederson
I recently came across a TikTok by Tony Pederson, a music-thanatologist who plays harp at the bedside of people nearing the end of life. He explained how he tunes his cadence to the rhythm of a patient’s breath, matching each inhale and exhale in real time.
(Yes, I had to go research music-thanatology—and it filled my heart that this field even exists. What a profoundly human way to meet someone at the end stage of life. If you’re curious, here’s his work: accordaschool.org.)
The moment struck me as the perfect picture of compassion. His empathy allowed him to attune to the patient’s fragile state. But it was compassion that guided his action—choosing to bring steadiness instead of what I would consider understandable collapse. He used his harp to support his patient to the very end, by meeting him with where he was struggling.
Both moments reveal the same truth: empathy opens the door, but compassion decides how we walk through it.
After a quick conversation with him starting from the comment section, he invited me to highlight how sympathy isn’t what many people take it as, and while I don’t speak to sympathy in this blog, his perspective on sympathy didn’t get go unnoticed by me. He stated it often gets a bad rap, so if asked, what does sympathy mean to you?
Intention Behind Empathy vs Compassion
Empathy says: “I want to feel with you, so you know you’re not alone.”
It mirrors pain. But often, that mirroring swallows us whole. We take on the weight, and instead of supporting, we end up stuck in the same heaviness.
Compassion begins with the same awareness—“I see your pain”—but shifts the intention: “I care about your pain, and I want to help relieve it.”
Tony’s story showed this difference. Empathy helped him connect to the patient’s breath. Compassion (or perhaps sympathy) told him what to do with that awareness: match the rhythm, steady the space, and create peace in an emotionally heavy moment.
Empathy feels. Compassion offers from a full cup.
Tools to Support the Channel
Empathy is a gift because it shows our depth, however without a way to channel it, empathy can be exhausting. Tony didn’t just feel the patient’s breath; he used tools to respond with steadiness. I've found a framework for doing just that. It starts with boundaries.
Boundary: “This is theirs, not mine.”
Regulation: Notice your breath, jaw, posture. Are you sinking into feeling, or curious to where the feeling is showing you?
Perspective: Witness without fusing to the moment, discern without drowning in the feelings.
Intention: Choose to witness. Choose to support in the way that feels authentic to you.
The Nervous System Impact
When empathy takes over, our mirror neurons light up. The body can’t tell the difference between your emotions being yours or second hand. Your heart rate spikes, cortisol floods, and suddenly your body believes you’re drowning in the same wave.
Compassion helps shift that. It brings parasympathetic calm online: the rest-and-restore mode. Breathing slows, oxytocin circulates, and the body steadies. Compassion is a wired channel for empathy to move into. Like going from first gear to second.
Big hearts have big responsibilities, and I believe in protecting those hearts so they can stay open. The way through is compassion. For ourselves first, so that it ripples outward. Because, at the end of everything, we’re all just walking each other home.
Avenues for Reflection
Where in your life does empathy leave you absorbing better than a sponge?
How does your body tell you you’re carrying what isn’t yours?
What could be your instrument?
Practices:
Hand-to-Heart Anchor: Palm to chest, whisper: “I can witness without absorbing.”
Grounding Cue: Wiggle your toes, send a signal: “I’m steady.”
Exhale Release: Let stress leave like steam rising from tea.
If you found this helpful, leave a comment below or share a bit about your experience. I’ve found that the best things are built, when built together.
You can find Tony’s story on TikTok here.
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