photo by me
I think I was born sensitive. My feelings get hurt easily. I cry over things that most people wouldn’t even care about.
I remember once when I was a teenager, the family was sitting around watching one of those made-for-television movies. It was about teen suicide. It upset me so much that I just sat there, hiccuping through the tears that streamed down my face. My dad told me to stop. He said I was “too damn sensitive” and this was a stupid thing to cry about. I think it hurt my sensibilities that kids thought life was so bad that they didn’t want to live. That bothered me.
I think nearly every man that I’ve ever had in my life has told me that I’m too sensitive.
And I wonder. What does that mean, exactly? Does it mean that I’m too sensitive for them? Does it mean that I’m more sensitive than most of humanity?
I can’t watch those animal cop shows. I cry through them. I’m so upset that people treat their pets so badly. It just tears me up. And then I have to cuddle with Dakota (as if that’s a chore!) because I need him to know that he will never be treated like that.
This weekend, Willow and I had some issues on a trip to Phoenix. My feelings definitely got hurt and I ended up crying over it. Yesterday I could barely function because I was so upset. I was upset because the consequences of her treatment are that she has to miss out on a month’s worth of playdates with me. That doesn’t just hurt her. It hurts me, too. I love that girl. But she also needs to know that she has to treat me well in order to spend time with me.
I’m not just emotionally sensitive. My skin is sensitive. I have such a horrible outbreak of eczema right now because of the dry weather. I itch all of the time and have rashes. My doctor had to give me some medicated lotion that I could use all over my body.
I have a sensitive stomach. It seems like the oddest things will upset my stomach.
I have a sensitive brain. Okay…weird, I know, but I didn’t know how else to label it. I get headaches at the drop of a hat.
I have sensitive eyes. I have trouble driving when it’s dark because the headlights of other cars hurt my eyes so much that I can’t see. I see spots instead. I have to tilt every mirror in my car to avoid any lights. In addition, my bedroom has cloths draped over any ambient lights that may be in my room because the lights drive me crazy.
I have sensitive hearing. I think I can hear every noise on the planet and it drives me nuts. I can hear the very subtle whirring of my Tivo at night and it irritates the heck out of me.
My nose is sensitive. The littlest whiff of things can make me crazy. Cigarettes are the worst. I can’t breath if I smell them. But even odd foods will bother me and then my stomach will get upset.
Maybe I need to be put into a bubble and sheltered from the evil world.
I could be like John Travolta in that late 70s/early 80s show (I can’t remember exactly when) show, “The Boy in the Bubble.”
I could be the Bubble Girl.