I don’t know about you but I am worn out. Lately I have spent a lot of time worrying about friends and family and fretting about the world in general. At some point, however, I realised that all this angst had no good place to land. I was going around in circles, unable to act yet unable to disengage.

I know I am not alone – many friends and co-workers are struggling to sleep and function amid what many consider extraordinary times.

Researchers refer to this state as “empathic distress”. The prevalence of empathic distress is partly an inevitable result of modernity. We consume distressing images, videos and content with greater immediacy and intensity than ever before. We have increased access to facts, information and analyses – not always accurate or valid – that we struggle to process and comprehend. And we are subject to an endless barrage of details about the lives of our friends, acquaintances and even strangers through social media.

At times this avalanche of information can be put to good use – it can expand our sense of the world and who we are within it and help us develop a richer understanding of complex social issues. But it can also lead to perceived helplessness and, at its worst, a type of intractable cynicism.

We are particularly at risk of empathic distress when we obsessively engage with distressing topics at a surface level without the capacity or willingness to respond effectively.

In these moments it can feel like we don’t know how to help, yet we simply can’t turn away.

Overidentification with suffering can undermine our capacity to think clearly and engage effectively and creatively. The analogy of the sinking ship is often used here. If we simply hop into a ship already sinking, we are of little use to those in it – and we sacrifice ourselves. The art is to stay on the shore and find ways to procure or construct our own boat so that we have more of a chance of saving lives (our own included).

The primary antidote to empathic distress is compassion. Compassion can be distinguished from sympathy and pity in that it moves us from a merely emotional response toward something creative, vital and useful. In this sense, it describes not just a state of being but a process.

Compassion involves being touched by suffering and having the desire or capacity to alleviate it. This means having sufficient empathy (not too much and not too little) and a clear, sometimes bold, intention to act. It is the thought of doing that empowers and energises us. We move out of overwhelm towards a new way of seeing a given issue and, most importantly, towards a sense of hope.

This doing can take many different forms. It can involve something basic, like consciously engaging in practices that cultivate the mental clarity we need to consider a problem with fresh eyes. At a more complex level, it can involve educating ourselves, problem-solving and engaging in skilful action within our circle of control.

Einstein once said, “We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.” Compassion requires creativity and something more than simply going down a well-worn path. It hinges on flexibility and innovative thinking in response to the unique particulars of a situation.

You might ask yourself is your current approach to a challenging issue simply leading to a dead end or further distress? If so, how can you tap into a broader, more creative way of looking or doing in response to the problem?

Often this requires a circuit breaker. I had a conscious break from a long period of focus, in which I took stock of how I had been stuck in a repetitive loop replaying distressing facts in my mind. I read novels, spent time in green surroundings and enjoyed much-needed rest. It was a privilege, given that the world around me felt like it was on fire.

In shifting modes, I opened to a new perspective. I could see how my constant worry was akin to jumping into a sinking ship and that I had abandoned the creative practices I had once used to build a sturdier boat. Self-expression through writing, engaging with the stories of others, deeply educating myself on matters close to my heart and taking my time to feel and metabolise the weight of the world were aspects of my life that had dropped away. They had somehow felt like an indulgence.

But as I began to relax and disengage, something welcome happened. I found myself in a better frame of mind and some new compelling thoughts about what might be effective in helping those around me arose. I was accessing the part of my brain that makes creative connections and generates new insights.

What did I do? I bought a friend a pair of Crocs. I sent a family member in a war zone a letter and poetry. I booked a holiday so I could be with a sick dear one and committed to educating myself deeply on effective forms of activism. I also jotted down some ideas for a writing project and made a vow: may I be disciplined enough to stand on the shore and use this momentary, fleeting privilege to build a viable boat made of radical, creative compassion.

• Dr Nadine Levy is a senior lecturer at the Nan Tien Institute where she coordinates its health and social wellbeing program, and the graduate certificate in applied mindfulness