I am what I’d call sensitive. Throughout my life, I’ve searched to understand what it means to feel things on such a deep and profound level. Has it been an inconvenience at times? Probably. Has it been a blessing? Absolutely.
As a child, I lost my little brother in an accident. Without going into detail, it was an overwhelmingly tragic experience for me. And while I would do anything to have him back if even for a day, I must acknowledge that this traumatic experience created within me a space for the rawness of my emotions. And an understanding that others suffer as well. My experience did not turn me cold, but opened a warmth that words could not explain. My senses grew. I realized that life is not this basic thing but a profoundly complex, strangely complicated and yet beautiful in its simplicity.
It’s been said that trauma can either make you more attached or more detached. I am grateful that my experiences have led me to become thirsty to feel everything. I cannot turn off my senses for to do so would be to stop being who I am.
Sensitive people struggle sometimes because they can become easily overwhelmed. They can be moved to tears by passing thoughts. They can be forced into the darkest realms of thought with only the slightest and most subtle encouragement.
So, maybe it’s a curse to be so sensitive?
No, I say. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Being sensitive means I feel and feeling is the basis for an extraordinary life. When life stops being two dimensional and reveals itself in all of its realness, exposing its bliss, its edges, its sometimes jagged teeth…and its feather-soft embrace. No, I am more than content with it. I need it.