THIS I BELIEVE by LUCY MILLS Sensitive is such a loaded word. Maybe it’s because I’ve heard it used so often in insults throughout my life. Nobody uses the phrase “you’re so sensitive” as a compliment. It’s not a neutral observation, either; it’s a scolding way of telling me o
for having feelings that are too
big, too intrusive, too dramatic. I naturally express my feelings more than most people, because that’s just how I’m wired. I don’t think I feel particularly more than others; but then again, I guess I wouldn’t know, would I? I only know what’s in my mind and what other people show me, and most other people are better at hiding that.
Better? That’s another loaded word. Better at hiding - that implies that it’s a strength to be able to do so, and a personal failure on my behalf that I can’t do the same. I’m still learning to view my own vulnerability as a strength. I have a feeling I’ll be doing that for the rest of my life.
But vulnerability as a strength sounds like an oxymoron. Vulnerability is nearly synonymous with weakness in many cases and from many perspectives. And after so long of being encouraged to believe this, I began to wonder: if vulnerability is such a weakness, why does it take so much courage to openly display? This made me realize that the people making me believe this were struggling with how to express their emotions, and rather than admit that, it was easier to put up a stoic front and continue to suppress. And this is why I believe that letting yourself be vulnerable is a strength.
I had these seeds of realization for years before they were really allowed to grow and blossom into a predominant understanding of mine. Unhealthy friendships and exterior stress cast a shadow over the sapling reaching for sunlight, and I felt stuck even when I caught glimpses of
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