The other day, I was sitting in a café, sipping a perfectly foamed latte and responding to emails, when I noticed a group of people gathering outside the window.
At first, I thought it was a crowd waiting for the bus. Then I noticed the signs. The chants. The slow, rhythmic swell of voices rising in protest. It was peaceful but passionate—a group demanding action on issues I care about.
And yet…I stayed in my chair.
Warm mug in hand. Laptop open. Watching.
And for a moment, I felt like the worst kind of person.
There I was, cozy and caffeinated, while people stood outside in the cold, demanding justice. The cognitive dissonance was real. Shouldn’t I be out there? Was I complicit in my comfort? Was this latte a symbol of everything that’s wrong with the world?
Have you ever found yourself in a similar situation—wanting to care, trying to care, but unsure how or when to show up?
The Inner Tug-of-War: Caring vs. Comfort
We live in a time when the world’s pain is more visible than ever. A scroll through social media or a glance at the news offers a constant stream of things to care about—outrage, injustice, heartbreak, urgency.
And yet, many of us are moving through our lives—picking up groceries, attending meetings, pouring coffee—feeling this constant tension between our daily routines and the massive issues swirling just beyond the edge of our to-do list.
This isn’t about apathy. It’s about the overwhelm of caring.
Psychologists call this compassion fatigue—the emotional exhaustion that can arise when we’re exposed to suffering we feel powerless to change (Figley, 1995). Over time, this fatigue can morph into paralysis. Studies show that up to 68 percent of people experience compassion fatigue at some point in their caregiving or advocacy roles, leading to emotional numbness and avoidance of engagement—even with issues they care about deeply (Mathieu, 2007).
You care—but the issues feel too big.
You care—but you’re tired.
You care—but you don’t know where to start.
So you sip your coffee. You scroll. You feel guilty.
And you wonder if you’re doing enough.
What Stops Us From Engaging?
There are real, complex reasons why even the most well-intentioned people hesitate to act. Let’s name a few:
1. Uncertainty About What “Action” Should Look Like
Not everyone is meant to lead a protest, call their senator, or march in the streets. But when those are the only examples we see elevated, we can start to believe that if we’re not doing that, we’re not doing enough.
2. Fear of Doing It Wrong
In our call-out culture, many people fear that if they speak up or step in imperfectly, they’ll be judged or dismissed. So they wait. They research. They overthink. And sometimes, they go quiet. Psychologists call this the spotlight effect—the tendency to overestimate how much others notice or judge our actions (Gilovich, Medvec & Savitsky, 2000). Combined with impostor syndrome, this fear can shut down even the most well-intentioned voices.
3. The Myth of the “Right Time”
We tell ourselves: “I’ll get involved when things slow down,” or “When I’m more informed,” or “When I’m less overwhelmed.” Spoiler alert: That time rarely comes.
4. Disconnection From Impact
It’s hard to act when we don’t believe our actions matter. The scale of the problems can feel so massive that anything we do feels like a drop in an ocean.
From Passive Awareness to Aligned Action
So what do we do with this tension? How do we move from watching to doing—without burning out, shaming ourselves, or assuming we have to save the world alone?
Here’s a shift that’s helped me:
It’s not about doing everything. It’s about doing something—aligned with your gifts, your capacity, and your season of life.
Your action doesn’t have to be loud to matter.
It doesn’t have to be seen to be real.
It doesn’t have to be big to be brave.
Three Ways to Step In—Your Way
1. Define Your Lane
Start by asking:
- What do I care about most deeply?
- What am I uniquely equipped to offer?
- What kind of action feels authentic to me right now?
Compassion Fatigue Essential Reads
Some people are meant to march. Others are meant to write, teach, organize behind the scenes, hold space, fundraise, mentor, make art, or tell the story.
All of it matters.
As organizational psychologist Adam Grant notes, “Advocates come in many forms. Not all are extroverts. Some are quiet contributors who amplify others’ voices.” Your lane might be quiet. That doesn’t make it small.
2. Practice Micro Actions With Macro Impact
We often overestimate what’s required to start and underestimate the ripple effects of small efforts.
- Text a friend who’s organizing and ask how you can support them.
- Read one article that challenges your perspective.
- Show up to the community meeting—even if you just listen.
- Buy from the local business that’s doing good work.
- Vote. Share. Sign. Donate. Encourage.
Each action is a vote for the world you want to live in.
3. Stay in the Conversation, Even When You Step Back
There will be times when you need to rest. Times when your role is to listen, learn, or grieve. That’s not failure—it’s part of the cycle.
But try not to disengage completely. Keep talking. Keep reflecting. Keep asking, What now? What next?
Because staying in the conversation—even internally—is a form of staying awake.
Sip, Reflect, Act
Back at the café, I finished my coffee. And I didn’t jump up and join the protest—not that day. But I did take a moment to reflect on what it stirred in me. I donated to the cause later. I shared a resource. I checked in with a friend who had been out there.
It wasn’t performative. It wasn’t flashy. But it was aligned with what I had to give that day. And I believe that matters.
So the next time you find yourself sipping coffee while the world burns—or scrolls, or rallies, or newsfeeds—don’t shame yourself into silence. Ask yourself what it might mean to stay awake. To care honestly. To act from where you are.
Because the world doesn’t need you to be everywhere at once. It needs you engaged, in the way only you can be.
Even from the café window.
Even with your hands full.
Even with foam still on your lip.
