  A World of Extremes Living in this body, with this mind, often feels like navigating a stormy sea with no anchor. Every wave of emotion, every whisper of sensation, crashes into me with the force of a hurricane. There is no middle ground. The joy I feel can lift me to the heavens, and the sorrow can bury me deep beneath the earth. Being highly empathetic and sensitive is a gift, but it is also a heavy burden to bear. As a child, my emotions were both my superpower and my greatest challenge. I remember sitting on the playground, watching other kids laugh and play, while I was lost in the colors of the wind rustling through the trees. I could feel the joy of the sunlight on their faces and the undercurrent of sadness in the boy who played alone. At night, I would cry for the world—for animals I’d never met, for wars I’d only seen on the news, for people’s stories that were whispered in passing but lived vividly in my mind. I used to think something was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I just let things go? Why did I feel everything so deeply? Over time, I’ve learned that this sensitivity is part of who I am, woven into the fabric of my being. It’s what makes me see the beauty in the mundane and the pain in the overlooked.  The Struggles of Sensitivity This heightened sensitivity is both a blessing and a curse. Society isn’t designed for people like us—those who feel everything to the extreme. The constant barrage of stimuli in today’s world is overwhelming. Social media, 24-hour news cycles, crowded cities, bright screens, and loud noises create a cacophony that leaves me spiritually and emotionally exhausted. There’s a scientific basis for this. Studies have shown that highly sensitive people (HSPs) have a more active central nervous system and heightened activity in the brain areas responsible for empathy and emotion processing. Dr. Elaine Aron, who first coined the term "Highly Sensitive Person," explains that HSPs process information more deeply, making us more attuned to subtleties but also more prone to overstimulation. (Aron, E. N., The Highly Sensitive Person, 1996) To cope, I’ve tried SSRIs—not because I’m depressed, but because they mute the constant deluge of feelings just enough for me to function. But there’s a trade-off. With muted feelings, I lose some of the information my emotions provide. Our feelings guide us—they tell us when something is wrong, when we need to set a boundary, or when we’re heading in the right direction. Without that guidance, I feel adrift, as if I’m navigating the world without a compass.  The Question of Boundaries In an overstimulating society, the question becomes: "What boundaries do I need to make between me and the world?" This question is both liberating and frustrating. I love everything so deeply that I want to experience it all—every event, every connection, every adventure. But the reality is that I can’t. My spirit is too oversaturated by the day-to-day demands of life. I find myself clinging to moments of silence and solitude, craving the stillness that allows me to recharge. There’s a paradox here. I long to immerse myself in the world and its wonders, yet that immersion often leaves me depleted. I’ve had to learn that saying “no” to some things is saying “yes” to myself. Still, it feels like a loss every time I have to choose.  The Cost of Modern Living America’s culture of overwork, consumerism, and constant connectivity is making us all sick, but for sensitive souls, the toll is even greater. The pressure to be always "on" is suffocating. I feel the illness of these systems seeping into my own soul, and it’s heartbreaking. When will it be enough? When will empaths begin escaping into the woods—not as a luxury, but as a necessity for survival? I’ve fantasized about retreating to a cabin in the forest, where the only sounds are the rustle of leaves and the songs of birds. But even this fantasy is tinged with sorrow because it’s a retreat from the very world I love. I don’t want to hide; I want to thrive. Yet, thriving feels impossible in a society that constantly demands more. A Love That Hurts I love the world too much. I love people too much. And that love often hurts. I want to be everywhere, do everything, and connect with everyone, but my capacity is limited. The irony is that the very love that fuels me also depletes me. It’s a delicate balance—one I’m still learning to navigate.
In the end, I believe our sensitivity is what will heal the world. It’s what allows us to see beauty in the broken, to feel compassion for the hurting, and to dream of a better way. If we can learn to harness it, to balance our love for the world with our need for rest, we can create something truly extraordinary. Sources:
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorMindy Amita AislingArchives
December 2024
Categories
All
 |
RSS Feed