I Was Too Sensitive

[Listen to an audio version of this blog HERE.]

I was too sensitive because I cried at old Hallmark movies and reruns of “Touched by an Angel” and that holiday song called Christmas Shoes. There is a softness in life called crying, and it is a favorite pass time of mine, not because I’m sad, but because crying fends off the sadness. One of my best friends and I sat watching a sad movie the other day, and as quiet tears ran down my face I glanced at her. She was crying too, and that made me laugh. That made me feel less alone than I’ve felt in a long time. The world is too hard for soft hearts, a lesson I’ve learned through ugly experience. Learned to wrap my soft heart in a sheath of concrete to protect it, learned that not everyone cherishes softness, that some will abuse it, some will use it, some will call it weakness.

I was too sensitive, because I cried as I stood on a podium, shocked that I’d won a race, in awe of myself and my body, surprised at my ability and in love with myself, really, for the first time. It is a disarming thing, to love oneself completely. We are taught and told and marketed to and lied to for so long, from so many angles, to dislike ourselves. We are taught that there must be something wrong with us. That we must hide ourselves in some way, or conceal some part of ourselves. But as I stood on that podium, exposed entirely, I felt tears sting my eyes, not…