“Sensitive people are the most genuine and honest people you will ever meet. There is nothing they won’t tell you about themselves if they trust your kindness. However, the moment you betray them, reject them or devalue them, they become the worse type of person. Unfortunately, they end up hurting themselves in the long run. They don’t want to hurt other people. It is against their very nature. They want to make amends and undo the wrong they did. Their life is a wave of highs and lows. They live with guilt and constant pain over unresolved situations and misunderstandings. They are tortured souls that are not able to live with hatred or being hated. This type of person needs the most love anyone can give them because their soul has been constantly bruised by others. However, despite the tragedy of what they have to go through in life, they remain the most compassionate people worth knowing, and the ones that often become activists for the broken hearted, forgotten and the misunderstood. They are angels with broken wings that only fly when loved.” Shannon L. Alder
I am an emotional roller coaster ride.
I will not try to deny it, this is who I am, sensitivity and all. I wear my sensitivity as a badge of honor, although throughout life I have been ridiculed or further wounded because of it. I cannot control the sensitive nature of my heart. I may pretend something has not stabbed or wounded me, but more likely than not this is not the case.
For many years I have tried to harden myself, hoping that I would become immune to the blows of life, and the harsh words received from those I hold in high esteem. Despite my efforts, its sensitive nature is unchanged.
My sensitive nature is misunderstood.
Those closest to me believe they understand me and my motives. They believe they can read between the lines. Many dare to correct me when I express my intentions and motives, determined that their interpretation of my position is correct. My hard and serious exterior deny me the right to ever be recognized as a victim, although my heart tells me otherwise. Many times I find myself confused, doubting my heart, thinking that there is something severely wrong because I’m always wrong and never right about my own feelings. Maybe I am bad at the core.
One of my favorite bible verses:
For what I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate. Romans 7:15
In my case, I do not understand why I continue to love and care the way that I do. I know better, yet I cannot help it. I continue to express my vulnerabilities to those I care about in hopes that I will be understood. The more I explain myself, the further away I get from MY truth, and the closer I get to shedding an unfavorable light on myself. I allow the fighter within me to get the best of me when I feel taken advantage of. This without a doubt is used against me, as I fail to be consistent, giving in to my human frailty. I can only be silent for so long without jumping into protective mode. I can only shed so many tears without lashing out. The cruelty I spew is the cruelty I have learned through life, it is not the natural nature of my heart. I would never purposely provoke tears from anyone, not even those who have hurt me profoundly. Yet sometimes acting in this manner is the only way I can get someone to listen to my voice and believe my truth. I am neither too proud to extend an apology when deserved and make amends with those offended. My truest desire is to maintain peace.
I am not taken seriously in my tender moments, my tenderness is taken for granted. The world demands yet resents my tenderness. Should a loved one offend me, my tenderness is an inconvenience because my tears take away from focusing on the “root” of the problem, and I am forced to slog against the tears. Should I act sternly with others, not allowing my emotions to flinch, I’m accused of being cold and harsh. The combination never right.
It seems my sensitivity is to be used for the convenience of others. I can never be me. Never entitled to the beauty of my emotions. My view on my emotions is brushed off because I am overly sensitive, yet I cannot label the world as overly cruel, overly angry, or overly unforgiving.
I read once that instead of numbing our pain we need to identify the source of our pain and work on the problem instead of the symptom. For example, we may have a headache because we are dehydrated, hungry, or stressed. We should work on fixing those issues rather than silencing the headache that is calling out for our attention.
The same goes for my tears. My tears, the water works as they’ve been called, are not crocodile tears. It’s not an act or an attempt to manipulate; these statements couldn’t be further from the truth. My tears are indicators that my soul is experiencing pain, something is hurting me. To stop it at its root I need to either freeze my heart, which I have failed to accomplish or excuse myself from the undesirable situation until I’m emotionally ready, which I can rarely accomplish without further ridicule that I cannot get through the topic without being accused of being overly dramatic.
I am always apologizing but rarely entitled to an apology when hurt because my over-sensitivity is usually what caused the pain, not the actions or words of the other.
When is my sensitive nature ever right for me!?
People say that my tears and sensitive nature take away from the moment. I have slogged away for a good portion of my life to hide them. Keeping my tears a secret. Ashamed of my weakness.
As an adult, I find that my sensitive nature and heart are not the problem. The problem is the lack of sensitivity in the world. It’s not the compassionate that are the problem, the lack of empathy is the problem! I will continue to embrace my sensitivity, tears and all. I do not lose hope that there are more out there, I won’t (and truthfully can’t) harden myself and lose hope because I sometimes find the world to be cruel and unloving. I am who I am.I am transparent. My anger is pain masked in anger. It’s sadness for being the recipient of a pain I would never wish to inflict. It’s a betrayal I never foresaw. It’s the second opportunity that no one else would’ve extended, yet I’ve already extended a third to my offender while knowing how that will most likely end. It’s fighting the urge to assume the worst in others. It’s the unconditional love I am willing to give that is rarely cashed in.
It’s the product of a broken heart living in a broken world that is trying to break the best in me.
“Highly sensitive people are too often perceived as weaklings or damaged goods. To feel intensely is not a symptom of weakness, it is the trademark of the truly alive and compassionate. It is not the empath who is broken, it is society that has become dysfunctional and emotionally disabled. There is no shame in expressing your authentic feelings. Those who are at times described as being a “hot mess” or having “too many issues” are the very fabric of what keeps the dream alive for a more caring, humane world. Never be ashamed to let your tears shine a light in this world. – Anthon St. Maarten