The Architecture of Glass
Drawing the Line Between Me and the World
Been called an asshole? It stings, but maybe there’s more to it than we think. I argue, setting boundaries and protecting your emotional house isn't a flaw. Rather, it's a form of structural integrity.
Empathy, when given too freely, can overwhelm. I used to believe that to truly connect with others, I had to feel everything they felt—joy, sorrow, their struggles. But after years of volunteering and immersing myself in the pain of the world, I realized that empathy, for someone like me, could feel like being trapped in a dark room with no windows and no exits. It left me breathless and unable to function. I had to stop.
Empathetic to a fault, I volunteered at broken shelters, cared for children with special needs, worked with the elderly, and even lived with Chinese students under pressure to perform. These were eye-opening experiences, but they left me more scarred than enlightened. I became so consumed by the world’s pain that I lost myself, draining my energy and sense of self.
I often wonder: Is empathy for the world overrated? It’s a question I still don’t have the answer to, but I know that I can’t carry the weight of everyone else’s emotions. Not when it leaves me structurally compromised.
In searching for a balance, I found inspiration in Le Corbusier, the architect who famously said, “A house is a machine for living in” (and, I’d like to think, looking out). His designs blur the lines between interior and exterior while still offering a barrier—a clear, glass panel to separate the two.
This resonates with me deeply. I’ve chosen to be aware of the world while also protecting myself. Embracing my role as an extroverted introvert, I’ve found peace in staying connected, yet maintaining clear boundaries. By tending to my own house first, I can offer something of true value to others. Empathy is a gift, but like all gifts, it must be given wisely. Too much, and it becomes an unnecessary load-bearing wall. Just the right amount can support everything.
In the end, it’s not that I don’t care; I simply care in a way that preserves my own foundation. We don’t need to feel everything to make a difference. We just need to know where to draw the line.
So, Yes
You can call me an asshole.