Over my years of elderhood, I’ve noticed that some of us may have lost some of our abilities to empathize with others. This certainly isn’t a phenomenon seen among just older adults, but it feels unseemly, maybe even pitiable for those of us who are elders.
What have I noticed? Older adults who behave as if they’ve forgotten that other people exist in their immediate physical surroundings. Who center their conversations on themselves—too often only their past selves. Who aren’t interested in others’ well-being. Who don’t recognize social interaction cues that could warn them about embarrassment or egoism.
I notice the same things in myself: waning social intelligence—telling too-long stories, listening with only half my brain, repeating myself, forgetting to look for body language or other signs that show folks’ feelings or states-of-mind. I sometimes have the vague sense that I’m leaking empathy.
I think I know where this ebbing might come from. Too many of us spend too much of our time isolated from perceptive others. We’re chock full of good stories and memories that don’t have any place to go, but we still need others’ understanding. Because we may not use our social skills that much, we gradually grow less adept at compassion, concern, courtesy, tactfulness or sympathy. We might forget to be curious, grateful or amazed about others’ lives.
To plug my empathy leaks, I want to listen better, to sharpen my wonder and consideration of those around me. Staying quiet more of the time. Asking better, more personal questions. Thanking God for others each time I’m in their presence. Building them up before I try to increase my stature in their eyes.
In these later years of life, I don’t want to be known as an elder with ebbing empathy….
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