In Praise Of The Over-Sensitive
And as you stand there
Your eyes brimming with tears because you just saw
That commercial
And you are wondering why you even try to maintain your composure when
Everything you feel shows on your face
And your heart is permanently attached to
Your sleeve
Let us now praise you.
You, as innocent as that tattered toy you’ll never get rid of.
You, as vulnerable as the dawn (though everyone thinks you’re as brave as high noon).
You, with the soul that’s older and deeper than the sea.
You are beautiful.
You are the one we turn to when we need a
Shoulder to cry on
A hand to hold
Or just some fervent praise to make us feel good about ourselves.
You are our biggest fan.
And while you sometimes get trapped by that voice in your head that says
You fool
You fool
You fool
Why can’t you just for once
Go for the money
Let it slide
Not take it all so personally
(Although, how else a person would take it is a bit of a mystery…)
And why can’t you learn to just
Suit up and show up and shut up?
But no.
Your feelings are how you know you’re alive.
And while the family you were born into may still call you:
Sensitive, too sensitive, waaaaaay too sensitive, weird, artsy, melodramatic, a big ol’ drama queen, psychic, unique, odd, old-fashioned, eccentric, misguided, special, tolerant of ambiguity, optimistic, viciously self-critical, expressive, inventive, pollyanna, misunderstood, different, deluded, ambitious, contrary, talkative, awake, gifted, diverse, scary, intense, playful, iconoclastic, independent, freaky, unrealistic or just plain crazy
You know better than to expect them to understand you.
And you have made your own
Family of friends and orphans and strays and
You would do anything for them
And have, come to think of it.
But you don’t keep score like that. Which is a good thing,
Because you would never come out even.
You overshare, overcompensate, overthink, overdo, overanalyze, overtalk and
Overwork – a word for which the past tense is: overwrought.
You, my beautiful love, are overwrought.
And we don’t want you any other way.
For it is you who looks every single homeless person in the eye.
You who can recall the name, birthdate and astrological sign of every person we’ve ever dated.
You, who rescues the animals,
Sings to the children,
Spots our moment of despair from across the room and rushes in, heedless, to hug and hold us when we never even knew what hit us.
But you knew.
You may not believe in psychic ability, but it does seem pretty freaking obvious to you pretty much exactly what is going on with pretty much everybody pretty much all of the time.
And you can’t believe we can’t see it, too.
And all that discernment and intuition and, yes, sensitivity, makes
Going to parties a horror show and
Getting dressed for parties even worse –
And not being invited to parties the very worst thing of all.
But remember about your need for solitude.
And remember the joy you feel when you lose yourself in your work, your art, your craft.
And remember, please, to take good care of your tender self and not watch scary movies like the evening news and not hang around negative-toxic-energy-vampire-people and remember to move your seductive body and
Lift your eyes to the sky because no one knows like you that:
All This Has Come To Pass.
And while we all wish you wouldn’t drink so much,
We understand why you do.
And we are so grateful to you.
You are so beautiful.
And we know that it is not that
You are over-sensitive,
It’s just that
The rest of us are under-sensitive.
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