Yes.
End of blog post.
But why, you ask?
Intrigued, I see. Okay then, read on.
“Stop being so sensitive!”
Raise your hand if someone has told you this. Yes? Then join the club, babe.
So, I could go on to talk about how feeling your feelings is important (it is), and how we all have to do the work and learn how to feel them (we do) because it will make us better humans (it will).
But I won’t. I’ll put my inner soap box priestess back in the closet and talk about my own recent experience and what it taught me. So here goes…
I knew that I was sensitive, big on feelings and stuff, can talk and analyze them for hours, but…I didn’t know I was THAT sensitive.
How I found out? Let me tell you. It’s actually a pretty lame story. I had a, say, confrontation (?) with a friend.
We were texting, I shared some vulnerable stuff (if you’re thinking: and why did you do that over text?? You caught where I took the first questionable turn in our interaction, congrats). He then pulled back and I felt rejected, hurt, unseen and misunderstood. All within like 5 seconds. I know, *clapping sounds.*
While swallowed up in those feelings I made a mental list of reasons why it would be justified to lash out and “stand my ground”. Obviously, that’s what I did then and wrote some, uhm unhelpful things. A part buried deep down probably knew I was only going to make things worse, but well, she wasn’t holding the mic.
And then it came: “You’re so sensitive about everything. I really don’t need that.” Et voilà, the spiral I’ve been meticulously crafting continues into a murderous silence just to make the storm complete.
There I was, feeling figuratively and verbally stabbed. Sound familiar?
Yeah, it wasn’t my first rodeo either. Definitely been there before, in various relationships, with various people, on various occasions over the past 30 years.
Except, this time I thought something I had never thought before: he’s right.
He’s right, I am sensitive. I’m really super fucking sensitive!
Of course, in the moment I still felt like shit. But only because I was mad at myself for ending up in a situation that had me feel like this, again. Actual growth would have looked like not taking a stroll down that lane in the first place.
That wasn’t his fault, it was mine.
Or well, it wasn’t mine technically, it was my conditioning’s. You know the whole why we are the way we are, because of our mom, and dad, and great-great-great-grandmother, and the bully from third grade. And no, I didn’t turn around from that chat immediately to be like, hell yeah I’m sensitive, he’s so right.
I sat with it.
Knowing me, I probably cried over it a little and then I sat with it some more. I was living at a buddhist monk’s meditation center at that time and was there all by myself. So let’s just say, I had a lot of time to sit and think.
At some point I got this image during a meditation. It was about an egg and a coconut and the message was: If it’s an egg you can stay, if it’s a coconut walk away. (Welcome to how my brain works.)
Want to know where the logic is in that? Well, an egg can be cracked easily and it can be the beginning of life, of something that can grow for years to come. A coconut has a hard shell, it literally kills people if they happen to stand at the spot it chooses to fall.
I had a hunch I was dealing with a coconut and I should let it be. Truth be told, as I was staring out over the lushest of tree tops in this Sri Lankan oasis, I found peace in that. It felt good to settle in my conclusion that my sensitive reaction was mere guidance to show me what, or who, is good for me and what isn't. I decided to let this connection go, put it off as another sign post towards the love buried deep within myself, nothing more.
A couple days later during a conversation with said monk, he said: you are very sensitive, very, very sensitive, emotionally but also your body is.
This was still before my light bulb moment, and my reaction was more along the lines of “am I though?”
He proceeded to say: you put up with a lot, you’re very stubborn, tough shell, but on the inside you crumble easily, you won’t admit it though, you just march on.
Maybe he was on to something…
How exactly he was able to make that assessment, I will never know. We’d only met a few days ago. Pretty sure however, that thousands of hours of meditation will sharpen one’s mind beyond our imagination.
So I said, “I guess you’re not wrong.”
But when he explained that sensitivity comes with creativity, I started to get it.
Sensitivity means one is good at “sensing” or has very fine “sensors”, which means you can pick up on stuff others don’t or simply can’t.
There it was - in that case, yes, I am SO sensitive, probably to the point that would be scary to others.
My poetry is living proof for it. Sometimes I’m asked how I write, to which my answer is: I don’t know. I just pick up on stuff and let it be transformed into words. It often even feels like it’s not me who’s writing, I just let the bodily experience run through me and then it’s my job to make it make sense on paper. It’s quite uncontrollable. A lot of fun as a virgo let me tell you… it’s kind of like having the constant urge to go and make the waves slow down at the beach, super easy to handle.
We all know it, when you’re stuck in a trigger (third grade bully remember??), it’s extremely hard to pause, breathe, zoom out and look at things from a distance and reply with mature and reflected communication 24h hours later. It’s so much easier to throw cake in someone’s face. Not right, but easier. Think that is called being human.
And look, I didn’t turn into a complete lunatic. I’ve done some (probs not all) rounds of therapy and am still working hard on myself. Practice what you preach ya know? But no, I didn’t feel good about it. Why was this such a big deal to me?
I guess what I am trying to say is, when you are this sensitive the very same situation would be like having Mike Tyson punch you in the stomach while, for others, it’s just like bumping your elbow. And you can’t just pretend it doesn’t hurt. Personally, I find that there are so many lessons in the juiciness of it all, and often, I choose to dive in. Pain is here to teach me. Call it being slightly masochistic, I’ll take that.
Slowly I started to understand, my sensitivity can be my super power. It allows me to feel things and see things a certain way others won’t.
It also dawned on me: Of course I’m gonna get called sensitive if someone thinks I just hit my elbow but what I experience is closer to being smacked by a world class boxer.
So here’s my own subjective public service announcement:
Sensitive people: You’re not overreacting, you’re just reacting to YOUR experience. But you need to know that you may experience it a lot more intensely than the average and it’s your job to learn and manage it (for your own sake).
Less sensitive people: You don’t get to be the judge over what is sensitive and what is not. Sensitive people aren’t trying to make things harder on you. Sometimes, they’re just trying not to drown. But it’s your job, or choice, how much you want to understand about the sensitive person in front of you.
Obviously you can’t just categorize people into one or the other, our experiences will always be unique and valid in their own right. Chances are though that when two people talk, one is more sensitive than the other, and how cool would it be if we’d started to be aware of that?
It would be way too easy if the other person’s behavior made sense to you at all times. Believe it or not, their behavior actually makes sense to them. Sometimes subconsciously, but it always does. I know?????? Trust me, I’ve had so many moments where I was like HOW THE F does he not see this?
Take it from someone who still thinks she’s right most of the time (I’m not, sadly).
Back to the egg and the coconut.
I spent hours in deep conversation with this buddhist monk and ended up sharing this image.
What he said was very unexpected:
“If you figure out the exact point, a coconut can be split into pieces very easily and an egg can balance a ton without cracking.” In other words, you need to get to know a person and their “points” and that takes time.
So there went my righteousness. Turns out, I may have not been right to ditch this (it’s still up for debate in my head). I may have just been sensitive. And that, my friends, was important. It did not tell me what went, or who was wrong or right in that little tiff we had. It simply showed me who I was in that very moment.
Now read that again: our emotions don’t tell us THE truth, they tell us OUR truth.
Shit. That explained a lot.
Maybe - and oh my god - he thinks I’m a coconut too? Like someone he can’t get through to and just makes everything complicated…?
What? Nah. I’m a walking piña colada!! Casually looking for my therapist’s number...
So, our emotions don’t tell us THE truth, they tell us OUR truth, huh?
It’s one of those things that I have for sure read on a bumper sticker somewhere but it never really made sense, until now.
Here’s another little chunk of wisdom from the monk.
He asks: How do you talk to a loved one when they are really close?
I go: What do you mean? I’m nice, I guess?
He says: No I mean, when they are right next to you, you could whisper and they would hear you right?
Me: Sure.
He continues: But when they are far away, you have to shout so they can hear you, right?
SLAM ON THE BREAKS!!
That’s why you don’t text about important things??
Because. you. can’t. whisper.
Important things are spoken about softly, quietly, gently, they are sacred, they are whispered. Just like a secret that needs protection we’re sharing precious pieces of our heart only when we’re close.
But if you’re trying to get a message across from, idk, the attic to someone who’s in the basement or like, on a different continent, you have to shout. You get loud, your voice carries aggression, despair, neediness. Even if just energetically. It’s like poking around in a chocolate soufflé with a big fork.
You wouldn’t do that would you?
Of course not, I hear you say.
And why?
You guessed it, because that soufflé is sensitive.
You’ll still eat it, but you’ll gently tap it with a spoon, break away an edge, observe its creaminess flow out onto the plate.
You’ll be in awe of its presentation, admire the shape, indulge in its taste, maybe even close your eyes as you let the chocolate takeover all your taste buds. It’s almost like you want to know anything and everything about that soufflé, make it last for as long as you can. You’ll remember eating it because it was an experience you were fully present for. It was, what’s the word - sensual. (See what I did there? ;)
Maybe your soufflé is intense, dark, probably a bit much after the meal you already had but you ate it exactly like this anyway because you were curious. You cared about the experience.
In case you haven’t gotten the point:
Sensitive people are soufflés.
What they need most is curiosity to help them figure out their own feelings because they spend SO much time doing that anyway (yes, really, it’s exhausting man).
If you’re around sensitive people sometimes, be a spoon, K?
Actually, all people are soufflés but sensitive people especially.
And the other point is that hearts need to be close so they can whisper how they really feel. Which brings me to the last thing I want to say:
Part of you may now be like, but why bother? I’m ok living a life without chocolate soufflés. Sensitive people still seem like a lot of work.
And that’s fine. Go ahead and find yourself a mediocre piece of cake.
Remember what I said about sensitivity and that it describes the ability of sensing or having sensors?
The finer your sensors are, the more you learn to work with them, the more of life you get to experience. Our sensors are literally the only way we can experience life. Anything from warm sand beneath your toes, to the smell of coffee, to that breathtaking view on a mountain peak.
No senses, no life.
But it goes beyond that. We also sense energies. We felt when our mom was mad, we know that guy at the bar is staring at us, we recognize a soul connection even if we can’t explain it. So imagine what happens when we tap into these senses more?
I can tell you what happens.
There’s a depth, a feeling of being held and seen you didn’t know existed.
There are layers upon layers of rich and exquisite experiences that only lead to an urge to dive deeper into that sea of pure bliss we’re lucky enough to taste when we develop our senses. Writing about is useless because words will never do it justice.
But just knowing that melting into oneness becomes real when we deepen our senses, often with and through the portal of another person - makes me want to keep walking that path at any cost.
Yes, I am just now discovering that my sensitivity had played this massive role in what were some of the greatest gifts and has also brought me to my knees. It’s what led me to dance with beautiful souls and caused me to lose others.
The realization wasn’t so much THAT I am sensitive but HOW sensitive I am and how POWERFUL it can be instead of something I need to be ashamed of.
If misplaced and miscommunicated (and boy oh boy have I done that, scroll up for proof) it can hurt yourself and confuse others by putting a strain on relationships until they, well, probably fail.
I know I’m not the only one to have been overwhelmed by my sensitivity. We’ve been taught to shove it aside but we can’t, so we pull out a sledgehammer to break open a door that we’re convinced will lead us to feeling seen and heard, and above all,
safe.
It won’t.
All we find is a concrete wall behind that door because the person on the other side is protecting themselves just the same, as they don't know any other way to
feel safe.
But what needs protection by a concrete wall?
Maybe something, vulnerable?
Dare I say,
sensitive?
Here we are, full circle.
Some of us carry it on the outside, they’re at the mercy of wild emotions, rivers of tears and need to learn to navigate the storm.
Others are walking bomb shelters, nothing may shake them but deep within fragility thrives.
Wherever you are,
be gentle with yourself,
be curious with others.
Fall in love with your sensitivity,
it’s the only way to live a life that makes sense.
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