Because of my intense and atypical sensitivity to both physical and emotional stimuli, I have often felt humiliated—not only for being wired differently, but for having been shamed and shunned for it, never taught to manage the frequent and difficult emotions that came with it.
Naturally, I came to envy those who seemed unaffected, composed, and indifferent to others. I think it is often boasted of as being thick-skinned, as if that is strength.
But I realize today that I would not prefer to be that way.
Feeling deeply is both difficult and a gift. It requires inner strength.
Yesterday, on our way to camp, a homeless woman approached our car asking for money. Having just gone to the ATM and having no singles, I was pleased to have no choice but to offer her more than I typically would.
What I also did was make and hold intentional eye contact as I told her to take care.
Then I wept as we drove away, explaining to my sons that if the suffering and need of a woman I do not know causes me pain, imagine what I feel when a person behaves with unkindness toward me.
It is true that I cry in the presence of a new baby—person or animal—children singing, weddings, or homeless or injured people and animals. I am powerless to change this, though life would be more manageable and less painful if I could.
This is the same me who cannot simply move on and let go as my family has done with me for decades—the ability to individually and collectively go on as if my existence does not matter in the least.
I do not wish to be that way. Ever.
My sons have plenty of models of indifference in their lives, and I am grateful to have something different to offer them.
I will say it again. The opposite of sensitivity is not strength, but insensitivity.
I married the person I did because he was so composed and indifferent. I had been taught those qualities were the measure of strength, maturity, and rightness, hoping I might learn from him or receive validation by proxy through association with such “valor”.
Emotional stoicism and vacancy are no longer things I would wish for myself or my children.
I am slowly learning to manage my feelings. They are deep and many, but they are not crimes or defects. I offer generous space to anyone suggesting otherwise.
Compassion and empathy are the most wholesome, badass ways of being.
The people I respect most lead in this way. They lead people toward understanding and connection rather than shame, judgment, distance, and punishment for differences of skin, orientation, or opinion.
Feeling less pain would be nice, but I am blessed to feel what is meant to be felt.
My program and spiritual striving suggest nowhere that indifference and thick skin will help me become my best self.
For appearances alone, I would like to be less affected. But my heart is big and open, and for that I am learning boundaries and healthy coping.
I am a work in progress—a love warrior.
I unapologetically feel it all, openly pained by diminishing and dehumanizing words and behaviors.
