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My Exquisite Sensitivity, Unpathologized

The term oversensitive is overused.

By Shae MasséPublished 3 years ago 6 min read
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My Exquisite Sensitivity, Unpathologized
Photo by shaian ramesht on Unsplash

It’s crazy the power a few letters can have over the human psyche. Growing up I was told without (but also at times with) intended condescension that I was oversensitive. It seemed to me that what they were really saying was that emotions are often ill-timed and inconvenient.

Sincerity can be disarming.

I would argue, though, that if you struggle to be empathetic to someone else’s feelings or emotional life you are, in fact, insensitive. It is understandable to be confused, uncomfortable, or even annoyed by someone’s emotional response and specifically how they’ve handled the situation. To disregard another’s position, though, is to disregard their humanity, and is insensitive.

Now, I must clarify: everyone is insensitive, or has the capacity to be. When I speak of my own sensitivity, it is a very specific thing and not a blanket statement claiming that I am more sensitive than others. Nor am I claiming that if someone is insensitive they can’t be sensitive. I am remarking on a heightened sensitivity, like an additional sense.

sensible {adj} having, using, or showing good sense or sound judgment: a sensible young woman

Hyposensitivity tends to be more sensible, I think. Hypos’ sensitivity is sublimated into something more palatable. Their inner voice appears to be directly linked to their outer voice. Hypersensitivity, from that vantage point, communicates senselessness, or a “not being all there”.

My definition of sensibility was informed through experience as the ability to refrain from having emotions. Ironic, huh? I thought it was a prize sticker for those who were good at sidelining their emotional reality, good at shunning it, repressing it — or so I thought when I saw them as my opponent. My enemy. Those Who Repress Me. The “other”.

My theory is that insensitivity is an attempt to maneuver easily through life. Toning down stimulus helps to reduce the chance of becoming overwhelmed or hopeless. It is a barrier against depression, insecurity, and vulnerability. It is a way to avoid accidentally revealing parts of yourself that you are ashamed of.

Regardless of my theorizing, minimizing seems to be an attempt to make life simpler, for yourself or others. For some, maybe it isn’t as easy as that— or maybe we just don’t want to (how insensitive!)

sensibility {noun} capability of being perceived by the senses; ability to sense or perceive’, or ‘emotional consciousness, capacity for higher feelings or refined emotion’

The sensitivity, or the acute perception, as I like to see it, was once perpetually wounded and always retreating. As a child, I didn’t know how to make sense of how I felt. Now, don’t misunderstand me. I am not saying ‘how to make sense of what I felt’, as in the emotions themselves. Rather, I am saying the manner in which I perceived things.

The nature of being sensitive paired with no guidance had me not advocating for myself. The persecution of rejection or disapproval, disagreement, or a lack of recognition would be too much, too fast. Its silent voice warned me that it was better to leave the already finicky equilibrium at ease. No sudden changes.

I already felt too visible. Too aware of myself. Vulnerable and exposed, as if I wasn’t my own. I didn’t have the privilege of privacy, secrecy, intimate thoughts, bad thoughts, or even happy moments. This wasn’t because I was sharing them with others, but because I couldn’t contain them.

My head is filled with disjointed pieces. I feel so much at a given moment that to relieve tension on the situation, I store it for later deliberation. Otherwise, it seems to take over and express itself, unfiltered through the sieve of context.

When I’m alone I finally hear myself. An electrical buzzing rises in the silence, getting louder the more I pay attention. The more attention I pay it, the farther it expands from me like a force field. A large, looming, magnificent beast unfolding like an accordion, taking up every crevice of the room I am in.

Finally having the space to create, write, cry, hum, rock, feel, deliberate, reflect, and be, the liveliness of the energy humbles me. I sit in awe, observing its glory and bearing witness to its current. I no longer feel the need to rush to express myself “correctly”. It is so busy and so marvelous, shifting and morphing in front of me.

I have to fold it back into me when it’s time to reenter the shared reality. It— and I — get anxious again. It was just warming up; learning its definition, its boundaries, its edges, the curves and divots. The separate ideas, emotions, experiences, had just been unpacked. We hadn’t had the chance to start making connections on the map so the insights remained out of view.

My inner voice is mute, so it communicates in a different way. It feels. It will not be denied, and I’ve stopped trying to do so. It is my sixth sense. It is the authentic part of me that doesn’t hide behind social cues, taboos, reason, organization, or decency. It has made me stronger.

What once felt abrasive, I am now curiously observant of.

My sensitivity is not just in my emotions, it is in my physical senses as well. It is who I am. It is not me claiming to be a super reader of others’ emotional states. I don’t try to fix others or give them a guideline on how to process or approach their own problems. I do not pretend to understand emotions better than others.

I accept the complexity and richness of life and everyone’s individual path throughout it. I am willing to hear out many perspectives and validate them. I don’t hold grudges. Although I don’t refrain from making personal judgments, I accept them for their subjectivity and do not accept them as fact.

Unlike during childhood, I don’t see others as “others” and they no longer offend my existence. Regardless of how or when they show their emotions, I know they’re there. I don’t underestimate them anymore.

Underestimation. That’s what sensitivity communicates to people. From the average perspective, it says that you aren’t capable of controlling yourself. On the contrary, though, it is a great strength. It is an awareness that requires fine-tuned control.

I’m going to tell you right now: the sensitivity is not the liability. It is the lack of self-esteem often associated with it that is. Funnily enough, this self-consciousness is often bred by the expectation of it.

My sensitivity is creativity. It’s my humanity. And I’ll be damned if I let it be silenced.

Value yourself that much.

Originally posted on Medium, October 27th, 2020

humanity
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About the Creator

Shae Massé

I promise I’ll try to make at least one interesting statement per article.

shaemasse.medium.com

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