I’ve always been known as a spaz, a hot mess, I wear my heart on my sleeve, I cry at commercials, and I feel every single emotion. I am lucky enough to be present to feel every exhilarating, terrifying, imperfect, amazing moment. Feeling all of these emotions is both good and bad.
My husband would argue it’s bad- I’m a very sensitive person. I take emotion to the next level, never mind telling the whole world how I feel. I don’t keep my feelings bottled up, but I do internalize feelings so much that I let it affect me. I like to think of myself as a “pushover” and I’m not proud of it. Sometimes I’m way too nice and I constantly find myself putting myself in other’s shoes- most people would argue that I’m an empath and I wouldn’t disagree.
When I found out my friends baby passed, I couldn’t stop crying. Even when I think about it, I can’t stop crying. This is weird, but I’ll never forget being a little kid sitting in the living room watching something about slavery (why I was watching this I don’t know haha), but I remember feeling so guilty that I was white. I wanted to be black for one day because I felt like I didn’t deserve to be white because “we” treated blacks so disgustingly at one point in this world. I felt so sad, like I could feel their pain through the tv.
I’m nowhere near intimidating and I hate confrontation. I’m good under pressure, but after I break down crying…for hours.
But when something strikes my heart, good or bad, I don’t forget it. I forgive, but I don’t forget… ever. It’s some sort of sick OCD my brain has- its like my heart has its own agenda and no matter how hard I try to forget the things that broke me, I can’t. Why is it that the things that broke us or the “big bad events” we can’t forget, but the amazing moments we can? Well, it’s not that I can, but those broken moments take up more space in my heart and head.
The most amazing, exhilarating moments of my life fill me up- college, my wedding, the birth of both babies, swimming lessons with my Gramps, my honeymoon, studying abroad in Paris, cookouts at my grandparents with strawberries and brown sugar, etc. These are just a few, but I swear I can close my eyes and be there in those heart felt moments. Yes, I can cry too.
Then those terrifying, heartbreaking and imperfect moments- this one break up in college was the worst experience of my life. I’ve mentioned it in this blog a few times because for some reason it takes up the most room in my heart. I’m thankful for it because it shaped me into the woman I am today and even though I’m a sensitive badass and cry at commercials, I’m proud of my superpower. I hate that I can feel the break up like it was yesterday, but I love that it shaped my character. This specific break up scarred my heart in more ways than I could have imagined. 11 years and I still see him driving away while I was hyperventilating, begging for him to come back. The worst part was that he was my best friend- actually knew me more than I knew myself. That day, a part of me was lost. It was like my best friend died because yes, we talked a bit after he moved across the country, but it was done. This all may seem dramatic to you, but it’s real in my heart and my head.
I wish so much sometimes that I didn’t feel as much as I feel. In those good moments, like when I had my first baby or my second because I didn’t know if he was a boy or a girl…those are so fresh in my heart and if I ever find myself in a tough moment or I’m nervous (which I always am), then I close my eyes and relive those moments. They save me and bring me back to life.
I’m not a depressed or sad person- especially lately. I never find myself sad or lonely. I feel fulfilled and happy and like I’m finally supposed to be where I am. I’m in the exact right place right now in this life. My path and my experiences led me here.
When my gramma passed at 66 years old, I actually thought I was going to die. I haven’t told many people this, but I remember my Gramps always telling me he eats nails for breakfast. He got tattooed in the army by a random drunk guy, got hypothermia and almost died, and underwent a quintuple bypass – where he died and came back to life. My gramma was always by his side. Their love story got me into college (essay). They weren’t this old cute little couple that is always so stereotypical of grandparents. They were in their late 60s (which at 15 I thought was so old) and always on a cruise, at the casino, or out to dinner. She carried his tough heart. She was a real life angel. Then she was diagnosed with aggressive Ovarian cancer in 2002 and died in 2004. It was devastating and when she died then all those people that loved her broke me too- I felt all of their hurt along with mine.
My dad came to college to tell me she wasn’t going to make it and when we rushed home I’ll never forget her tiny (once bigger because the woman loved smart food popcorn, Klondike bars, and chicken skin hahahah) body as she lay in bed throwing up the last bit of chemo in her body. She told me she would be my guardian angel and “leaving on a jet plane” came on the radio. Right there, I fell apart and all of me broke. My “nail eating” Gramps was trying to make us laugh and was practically making digs at her as he was projecting his anger that she was leaving our world. Her breathing was labored and my mom just laid next to her. I left them alone and she passed the next morning. It was like my Gramps was in denial because he wouldn’t show any emotion… if anything he was calm.
Two months passed by and her headstone was delivered. I had just gotten shoulder surgery (and the breakup person just realized he wanted to call me his real girlfriend after being best friends in love). My mom and I went to the cemetery to say hi to gramma (my mom took it the hardest) when we saw my Gramps sitting in his Buick with his head against the steering wheel. My Gramps and I have always had a special connection… one that is very rare. He had in Rod Stewart’s “smile” as he was crying and refusing to open the car door for my mom. He opened it for me and my mom drove away letting us have a moment. When I sat there with him, I was breaking but I didn’t cry. I held his hand and we walked to see her new headstone together. When he saw it, he lost it… started digging and apologizing to God- he kept saying it was him that was supposed to die. After all, he said he already met God once when he had quintuple bypass from a serious heart attack. I held him and we sat there for hours reminiscing about her. I’m actually crying as I write this because even though this was an overwhelmingly sad moment, it was so powerful and emotional.
He’s dating someone today who is nothing like my gramma and it’s really hard for me. That’s all I will say, but it’s also why I get so emotional when I see him. A part of him (most of him) died when she did. We have matching tattoos together.
One other terrifying and powerful moment that has shaped me was when I was 5. This is a very open and raw post and I don’t talk about this EVER except for the people who know and love my heart. But I hope even if one person reads this, it helps them not feel alone and that it doesn’t have to ruin your life.
When I was 5, I was sexually molested. I remember every single moment. I will not say anything more, but it could have ruined me. Don’t get me wrong. It created some issues and I’m sure some subconsciously because I suppressed so far in my heart, I tried to pretend it didn’t happen. It could have destroyed me and sent me down a dark path. I took this as one of those moments that shaped me. I am a sensitive person and all of these things contributed to it.
See, those good moments and those bad moments have the same effect but not the same intensity. I want more babies just to feel that feeling again. I’ll never forget when my son was born (my second), I didn’t want to leave the hospital. Most people want to go home and get back to their routine. I laid there, with his little body against mine all tucked in my shirt, alone just looking around and praying to God. I didn’t want to take this little body into this cruel, yet amazing world. I didn’t want to go back to real life where the chaos doesn’t stop. I cried and cried and sobbed. I too a picture of my room to signify that moment.
I feel every ounce of a moment. I have meetings at work all the time and I feel every parents emotion. I’m a teacher and a mom and that’s a really tough battle I have with my inner self on a daily basis. I have 6 sons at work- all special education, trauma, etc. I cry and laugh always on a daily basis.
The point of this post wasn’t to rant about myself and how I cry all the time (but to the people who know me I’m sorry I cry a lot but I won’t change) but to hopefully make you realize that being sensitive isn’t a weakness.
Go out and be you. Be raw and don’t ever change. God made us the way he wanted. Don’t apologize for it. Ever.
I get this a lot. “You’re too sensitive. You let people walk all over you. You can’t always cry or you won’t make it in life.” Go tell a baby not to cry. Yeah, you can’t make someone feel a certain way and during those difficult moments I sometimes wish I didn’t feel so hard. But those good moments- the ones that awaken your heart and soul that you can feel through every bone- yeah that’s why I wouldn’t trade being sensitive for the world.