Receiving Too Much: The Empath and the Parasite

The Empath’s Dilemma

There’s a fine line between feeling deeply and losing yourself entirely.

And for many of us — especially those wired for empathy —

that line gets crossed every single day.

We’re taught that being “open” is virtuous.

That tuning into other people’s pain is a form of connection.

That feeling everything is a gift.

But what happens when the channel never closes?

When you receive and receive and receive —

without digestion, without discernment, without pause?

You become a host.

Energetically.

Emotionally.

Physically.

The Parasite Is Not Just in Your Gut

Let’s get one thing straight: all people host some form of parasitic life.

It’s not just a fluke.

It’s biology, ecology —

and often, a spiritual message.

Parasites show up in systems that are stagnant, unprotected, or out of balance.

That includes your gut, your mind, your nervous system,

your relationships, and your subtle body.

Yes, they can be literal — pinworms, protozoa, or flukes.

But they can also be more symbolic:

• A relationship you feel too guilty to leave.

• A family system that siphons your life force.

• A spiritual mentor who feeds off your devotion.

• An internet echo chamber of endless emotional urgency.

• A pattern of “helping” that leaves you dry and resentful.

  
  

In all cases, the same principle applies:

opportunists thrive in environments that don’t know how to say no.

Let’s Talk About the Empath

The modern empath is often described as someone who feels what others feel.

And that’s not untrue — but it’s incomplete.

The truth is, many empaths can feel for others with exquisite sensitivity —

but they struggle to feel for themselves.

Their energetic field stretches outward like antennae,

constantly tuning into the moods and needs of others,

but rarely curling back in to check what’s actually going on inside.

It’s not that they feel too much.

It’s that they don’t feel themselves deeply enough.

This is often a survival strategy rooted in early environments where tending to others kept them safe — or loved — or invisible.

But long-term, this outward empathy becomes a leak.

An open channel.

A red carpet for parasitic energy, both literal and emotional.

When you feel for everyone else, you stop being a container.

You become a leaking vessel — full of everyone else’s emotions,

but never able to hold your own..

Who Gets Invaded?

Some people are more susceptible to parasitic burden — physically and energetically.

• The overgiver who doesn’t know how to receive.

• The child of chaos who survives by scanning others instead of feeling their own body.

• The spiritually open but physically ungrounded.

• The exhausted, over-functioning mother.

• The healer.

• The martyr.

These people are always looking outward —

to fix, soothe, regulate — and rarely inward to tend.

Their boundaries don’t close because they’re still trying to stay “good.”

And in the effort to be good, they become open. Too open.

Boundaries Aren’t Just a Wall — They’re a Container

This is one of the most misunderstood parts of healing work.

Boundaries are not something you wrap around yourself like saran wrap.

They aren’t a fence.

They are a container.

An internal experience.

A boundary is the ability to feel what’s yours — in you.

Not in someone else.

Not outsourced or leaked or mirrored or ignored.

Can you feel your own sadness without needing to fix someone else’s first?

Can you sit with your anger without turning it into a reaction?

Can you let your fear move through your own body —

instead of projecting it onto someone “stronger”?

This is the foundation of healing.

Not just to say no —

but to say yes to what’s inside you, and hold it like it matters.

The Problem with the Purge

As soon as someone realizes they’re a host —

to a parasite, a pattern, or a person — the first instinct is to get it out.

Kill it. Cleanse it. Purge it.

This is where the biocides come in.

The oregano oil.

The grapefruit seed extract.

The tea tree suppositories and black walnut cocktails.

All of them declaring: Let’s make your gut a war zone and call it wellness.

But when you go after the invader with war tactics, you weaken the host.

Most of those microbes didn’t show up to destroy you.

They came because your terrain was soft and stagnant and under-attended;

because you left the door open.

They came, quite literally, to help clean up the mess.

If you bomb them out without changing the pattern that invited them, they’ll just return.

Or something worse will.

How Homeopathy Works With the Host

Homeopathy doesn’t target the parasite.

It targets you.

When I take a full case, I’m not asking, “Which bug are we trying to kill?”

I’m asking:

• What is your system trying to do?

• Where are you leaking?

• What aren’t you metabolizing?

• What grief is still alive and trying to be digested?

We find a remedy that matches your whole picture — physical, emotional, spiritual.

A remedy that says to the body: “Wake up. Restore your pattern. Rebuild the terrain.”

Here's something you might not know: as homeopaths,

we’re trained not to “feel for you.”

We don’t energetically merge.

We don’t empathically sponge.

Instead, we hold our own field in a way that gives you space to hold yours.

So that you can contain your own energy.

Feel your own body.

Know your own experience.

Without being interpreted.

Without being siphoned.

That is part of the medicine.

The remedy doesn’t kill the parasite.

It closes the doors.

It shifts the terrain.

It makes your system a place where opportunists no longer thrive.

That’s not cleansing.

That’s sovereignty.

Your Miasm Is Showing 

Different miasms attract different types of parasites — not just in the gut, but in the psyche.

Psora

“I’m not enough.” Leaky, striving, undercharged.

• Parasite type: slow drains, nutrient thieves, background burden

• Common matches: tapeworms, threadworms, leeches, candida

• Energetic pattern: Always giving. Always tired. Drawn to chronic helpers and narcissists. Terrain is underfed — and wide open.

Sycotic

“I’m too much — so I’ll hide.” Suppressed, overgrown, emotionally moldy.

• Parasite type: overgrowth, duplication, cystic invaders

• Common matches: giardia, HPV, mold, toxoplasmosis

• Energetic pattern: Accumulates. Avoids. Terrain is thick with unprocessed emotion and shame. Parasites love the dark corners here.

Syphilitic

“I’m already broken.” Burned out, destructive, fragmenting.

• Parasite type: invaders that destroy tissue, compromise nerves

• Common matches: babesia, Lyme (borrelia), malaria

• Energetic pattern: Believes in collapse. Uses force to “cleanse.” Attracts invasive parasites that match the internal belief in inevitable decay.

Tubercular

“I need to escape.” Restless, porous, constantly moving.

• Parasite type: migratory, airborne, opportunistic

• Common matches: strongyloides, flukes, hookworms

• Energetic pattern: Can’t sit still. Hates containment. Terrain is scattered, nervous, and open. Parasites follow the draft.

Cancer 

“If I’m perfect, I’ll be safe.” Tidy, repressed, polished on the surface.

• Parasite type: stealthy, integrating, emotionally adaptive

• Common matches: liver flukes, low-level candida biofilm, toxocara

• Energetic pattern: Cleans on the outside while grief festers inside. Attracts “silent” parasites that mirror the pressure to seem okay.

AIDS

“I can’t hold myself together — I need something outside me to survive.” 

Fragmented, hypersensitive, collapsing.

• Parasite type: systemic, shape-shifting, immune-opportunistic

• Common matches: cryptosporidium, microsporidia, invasive toxoplasmosis, drug-resistant candida, biofilm colonies

• Energetic pattern: Nervous system collapse. Identity dissolution. Desperate for rescue. Boundaries are gone — not just porous, but dissolved.

So What Can You Do Instead?

First: close the gates.

Stop scanning the horizon.

Stop checking everyone else’s temperature.

Quit worrying about their moods.

Come back inside.

Then: build the fire.

Eat grounding foods.

Sleep like it matters.

Tend your rhythms like they’re holy.

Feel your feelings in your own skin.

Say no faster.

Say yes slower.

Stop trying to be good.

Be whole.

This is how you become an inhospitable host.

Not because you’re cold.

But because you’re already full.

Adjuncts for Boundaries + Terrain Repair

Flower essences

Centaury - (for people who can’t say no)

Walnut - (for transitions + energetic protection)

Crab Apple - (for gentle cleansing) are helpful supports when emotional boundaries have frayed.

A somatic practice:

Lay flat. Hand on belly.

Hand on heart.

Feel yourself breathe.

Say silently, “I return to me.”

Journal on this:

Where do I give my energy away — and secretly resent it?

Because that’s usually where the door was left open.

In service to the highest good,

Lindsay

Overgiving is one side of the story. Receiving is the other.

If you haven’t read last week’s post yet, start there: Receiving Isn’t Rest. It’s a Reckoning.