“You’re too sensitive,” I was often told as a kid. “You need a thicker skin.” The incidents that led to those observations were usually unkind, often mean, but I believed the adults in my life. Being sensitive felt like a burden.
At some point in middle school, I tried out the harsh teasing I was used to hearing from loved ones on a friend. I can’t remember what I said but I do remember the look on her face.
“That’s so mean,” she said. Full stop. I didn’t tease my friends that way again.
I grew up embarrassed that movies—even commercials—sometimes brought a lump to my throat. Too sensitive! When kids hurt my feelings or caretakers let me down, I assumed I was the problem. It was overwhelming.
“I’m sensitive,” I remember telling friends as I got older, maybe in my early twenties, shaking my head and squishing up my face. I felt everything deeply and realized compassion can be experienced as a burden too. It’s exhausting to notice how much the world hurts.
In 2012, the notion of “highly sensitive people” became somewhat mainstream, thanks to a series of books written by Elaine Aron. I never bought one but frequently scanned them in bookstores, sometimes sending quotes or snapshots to a friend in Chicago who had also identified herself as an HSP. OMG, this, we texted. This is us!
At SoHo’s McNally Jackson in 2017, I picked up The Highly Sensitive Person in Love. I giggled preemptively at how much categorized self-help we HSPs apparently need, then opened it to see what I could learn. I reviewed the qualifiers for being an HSP: Rich inner life. Check. Considered shy as a kid. Check. Often fear you’re too much. Check. And I can’t even count the number of times I’ve said, No, I haven’t seen Game of Thrones. I don’t do violence.
The next year, even a trusted mentor tried using tactics I knew from childhood to keep me in my place.
“You’re very sensitive, you know. But you’ll gain strength over time.” What she didn’t realize is that soft does not mean weak. Gentle does not mean directionless.
I grew bigger than her projections.
***
No matter what they are, your superpowers will attract attention. Not always the good kind, unfortunately. Some people will sense the scope and depth of your strength and want to make you feel small. Don’t fall for it.
Eventually, I learned that “too sensitive” is a portal, an open window into things the world needs now. I discovered I wasn’t at the mercy of others—I could grant myself the loving acceptance I’d always craved. “Too sensitive” is not a burden; it’s perfect and whole in its unique perspective on the world. It offers endless opportunities to sense and support.
Once I understood that things formerly used to humiliate me are gifts, not burdens, I began to see where they fit. I learned how to use them, playing to their strengths while watching their weaknesses. My place in the world became more clear. Other people appreciate my gifts, I noticed. Not everyone. But it doesn’t matter: There are a few who support me and that’s enough.
I took one step forward and stopped to listen. I am still moving forward, listening. Piece by piece, a life takes shape.
***
Even after you develop a more accepting and confident relationship with yourself, you will still encounter doubt.
“You’re not too much,” my husband sometimes reminds me if I feel rejected or misunderstood, even by friends. “You were just showing that you care.” Old beliefs are hard to break. I am not too much, I repeat silently. I am not the problem.
***
Trust me: If you pay attention, over time your superpowers grow. They start to make sense. You relish the truth of them, how they were with you all along. You lean into things that once brought you shame.
There’s power in that, you know. No such thing as “too sensitive,” I would tell those adults now if I could do it again. As therapists everywhere might agree, it’s about boundaries. How you use your superpowers and with whom. What containers you create for them to thrive. Who gets access to your heart and brain.
Maybe your superpower is being too bold, too quiet, too loud, too smart, too independent. You tell me.
But delete the “too.” Remember, there’s no such thing.
Between you and me—
Some news! Beginning February 24, I’m hosting a four-week series called The Heart Healing Portal. Marking the one-year anniversary of the pandemic and carrying us into Spring Equinox, which symbolizes regrowth and re-emergence, this is a weekly container for people to release whatever they’re holding and consider how they will reintegrate with the world when it’s time. We will focus on grounding, centering, and meditation for 30 minutes on Wednesday mornings at 9 AM Eastern. Click through the pink slides to learn more, and respond to this email to sign up if you could use some extra support! I’d love to have you.
Things that stuck with me this week: a troubling video about Amazon employees attempting to unionize and a petition to tell Bezos to let them do it. A plea to bring back the nervous breakdown. Why I didn’t like (my hero) Dolly's Super Bowl ad. What happened when Denver replaced cops with health care workers.
Thanks so much for being here.
WE’RE ALL FRIENDS HERE is written by Lauren Maxwell. If you’d like to support this newsletter, you can become a sponsor, click the heart, share online, or forward to a friend! It all helps and is deeply appreciated.
This is beautiful! Thank you so much for sharing. ♥️♥️♥️
This really resonated with me. My wife often reminds me that some people just can’t handle my level of care but that doesn’t mean I should be different. It hurts when I feel like I’m too thoughtful or want to spend too much time with friends, but also, isn’t that what you do with people you care about?
As a highly sensitive person, I sometimes wish I could just turn the feels meter off for a few hours and experience the peace of not having to worry about if I’m too much.