Being sensitive in a cruel world is, in itself, an act of courage.

dreamy woman standing on lush field at sunset
Photo by Jonathan Borba on

“Sensitive” is Not a Bad Word

I have been called sensitive at different points in life. It seems to be a running theme. And the only thing that really changed is how I feel about it. I learned to embrace this part of me, and I think maybe you should, too.

I hear it said to explain away some “weakness” or some reaction no one else understands. “Sensitive” is a word frequently used by people whose egos blind them, and it’s hardly ever a compliment; rather a caution to others about my “fragility.” It says to others, “be careful with this one… she may cry.” So what if things bring me to tears easily? I would rather cry a lot and feel life fully, than hide in my little shell, protected by the illusion that I am stronger than my emotions, or that having emotions somehow negates my opinion.

People say I “live inside my head,” which is fair enough to say. When I am alone, I pay attention to what I am feeling and thinking, and I give those things space to exist. I focus on them. I examine them. I trace them to their roots and see where it takes me. I also allow other people the same space. I try to apply all of my senses to life, whereas sometimes, we rush through it, with narrow minds and dulled senses, too focused on the end goal, or the next goal, or our next appointment.

Dialing In to Your Senses

Now, I know this quality about me to be a strength, if not a superpower. I am by no means exceptional. I don’t have x-Ray vision, or see through walls. I just keep my mind open to everything going on around me. I am very tuned in to details. So much so, that I find it hard to go to public places, because the intersection of so many peoples’ lives happening in the space around me easily overwhelms my senses.

I liken it to sitting still on a park bench and watching as the world walks by, busy in life, and I can see inside each life, each mind, each heart for just a moment, when they least expect it. And in that way, yes, I believe maybe I can see through walls.

Where Does it Come From?

I think my senses are the same and any other; so perhaps it is my ability to focus that creates this sensitivity. If I had to bet on it, I would say it has something to do with my “mirror neurons”. You know, the monkey-see, monkey-do neurons… the ones that make us imitate body language while we are in conversation, because we instinctively know that makes people more comfortable… The same neurons cause us to “open wide” as we feed a baby the choo-choo or the flying airplane spoon full of baby food, because our brains makes us do what we want other people to do, and make other people do what we do. It’s instinctive. It’s why small children imitate what they see… mirror neurons. Our brains are wired for connection. I just don’t fight it.

Sensitivity: A Gift in Disguise

Whereas, I may have considered it a weakness or an undesirable trait at some point; I am grateful for this power. My sensitivity allows me to see what most people can’t, hear what people don’t say, and feel what most people are afraid to admit. My sensitivities help me connect to the earth and relate to people, to help people and heal them. When I see with my spirit instead of my senses, it opens me up to a world beyond what our senses can perceive.

Yes, it makes me cry during movies and commercials, and I’m always two thoughts away from tears, but there is a power in it that only comes from divinity, and is reserved for those who are strong and brave enough to be “sensitive.”

Written by

Missy Marilyn

Still working on it.