When I see the beauty of the world, I cry. When I see human kindness, I cry. When I’m angry, I cry. When I’m sad, I cry. I cry when I feel an overwhelming sense of love, and when I listen to a beautiful piece of music, I cry. All in all, I can confirm that my eyes get a regular dose of good cleansing for any reason my emotions deem necessary. If you can relate to this, I need you to listen carefully: there is absolutely nothing (let me repeat that), absolutely nothing wrong with you.Â
Imagine a world painted in shades of beige. Interactions are polite but reserved, laughter is a carefully measured chuckle, and tears are a sign of weakness quickly blinked away. This might sound like a utopia of emotional control, but it would be a sterile and lifeless landscape for those who thrive on vibrant hues. In reality, the world thrives on the rich tapestry of human emotions, and those who wear their hearts on their sleeves – the ones who weep openly at sentimental movies, erupt in infectious laughter, and wear their frustrations like a flashing neon sign – are not a liability, but a vibrant and often misunderstood source of power.
It takes courage, real courage, to embrace your sensitivity in a world that seems built for thicker skin.
Have you ever felt inferior because you got too emotional about a so-called situation or an individual?? Well, then we are in the same boat.
We possess a profound insight into the world, recognizing that nothing and no one is insignificant. Every event holds meaning that enriches our experiences and teaches us valuable lessons. Rather than avoiding discomfort, we confront challenges head-on, even embracing the painful aspects of life. This isn’t about naivety but a deep-seated inability to detach easily. Yes, we worry—about ourselves, our relationships, and the future. Concern for how others perceive us weighs heavily, yet this does not equate to foolishness. Amidst these worries, we maintain a compassionate spirit, understanding the impact of words and treating others with the kindness we desire. Our empathy extends to going beyond our limits to assist others, recognizing the profound impact of emotional support during difficult times. We refrain from judging those in distress, knowing firsthand the transformative power of emotions. We empathize deeply with the pain of feeling misunderstood and alone. While forgiveness may not come quickly, we strive to release hurt and move forward sooner rather than later.
Society often misinterprets sensitivity as a weakness, leading to the mistaken belief that it’s a disorder. This discourages open expressions of sensitivity, like crying or seeking quiet spaces. The challenge with crying isn’t the act of expressing your emotions. The real issue lies in how others struggle to respond to tears. Some individuals may feel frustrated because they don’t know how to respond appropriately. This frustration can manifest in taunts or dismissive remarks, intended to deflect their discomfort rather than genuinely support the person in distress. For some, witnessing tears may evoke feelings of helplessness or agitation, especially if they perceive crying as a sign of weakness or vulnerability. In such cases, instead of offering comfort or empathy, they may resort to criticism or mockery as a way to distance themselves from the emotional situation. This discomfort often leads to stigmatization of the person crying, turning a natural expression of emotion into feelings of shame or inadequacy. Regardless of others’ reactions, your tears are a valuable form of expression.
This empathy is not merely a response to our own past traumas but also a reflection of our innate sensitivity to the emotional states of others.
People often say you’re “too sensitive” in a pejorative way, assuming it’s a weakness—especially if you’re a sensitive boy or man. This can lead some people to hide their sensitivity or overcompensate by trying to act “tough,” lest they become targets of shaming or bullying. How many times has someone told you to “toughen up,” “grow thicker skin,” “stop being so emotional,” “don’t take things so personally,” or that you are “too sensitive”? These messages not only send us the message that there is something wrong with being sensitive, they also indicate that with enough willpower, we can change — or “cure” — our sensitive nature. In reality, sensitivity is innate in us — we cannot change our sensitivity more than we can change our eye color. Although society’s tendency to misunderstand isn’t intentional gaslighting, it still has the same result: We doubt the legitimacy of our own experience — including our thoughts, feelings, and abilities — since we are told time and time again that our way of experiencing the world is “wrong.”
Most highly sensitive people are exceptionally kind and compassionate toward others, are peace-makers, and believe the best in others. These tendencies can lead others to the false conclusion that we are naive and sheltered from the horrors of this world. However, I have found that to be the opposite of the truth. Many highly sensitive people (HSPs) have experienced challenging childhoods or toxic relationships that have profoundly shaped their empathetic and compassionate nature towards others. These early experiences of adversity or emotional turmoil have led us to develop a heightened sensitivity to the emotions and needs of those around us. Growing up in environments characterized by conflict, neglect, or instability have instilled a deep desire to provide comfort and support to others. Having personally experienced emotional pain or hardship, helps us empathize deeply with others who are going through similar struggles. This empathy is not merely a response to our own past traumas but also a reflection of our innate sensitivity to the emotional states of others.
Society often misinterprets sensitivity as a weakness, leading to the mistaken belief that it’s a disorder.
They say sensitivity is a weakness. A flaw in the armor, a crack in the foundation. But I’ve never seen it that way. Maybe it’s because the world feels like a symphony to me – a cacophony of sights, sounds, and emotions that bombard my senses. A sunrise can bring tears to my eyes, just as the harshness of a raised voice can send shivers down my spine. For a long time, I tried to mute the volume, to pretend I didn’t feel things quite as deeply. But that only left me feeling hollow, like a muted melody. It takes courage, real courage, to embrace your sensitivity in a world that seems built for thicker skin. It takes courage to feel the sting of criticism alongside the warmth of a kind word. It takes courage to offer compassion when cynicism feels like the easier option.
But here’s the thing: my sensitivity isn’t a burden, it’s a gift. It allows me to see the beauty in the mundane, to connect with others on a deeper level, and to empathize with their pain. It fuels my creativity and my desire to make the world a gentler place. Yes, sometimes it hurts. Sometimes the world feels overwhelming, and I need to retreat and recharge. But those moments don’t define me. They’re simply a pause in the symphony, a moment to catch my breath before diving back in, heart wide open.Â
In the end, it’s my sensitivity that makes me who I am. And that’s something I wouldn’t trade for anything.