This article does not represent the views of Her Campus FSU
My whole life I have been told by countless people that I am too sensitive, most being ones very close to me. From a young age, I recall being quick to take offense to the slightest of criticisms, as well as to dwell on things that people have said to me that may have rubbed me the wrong way. Up until I was old enough to conceptualize what it actually means to be sensitive, I believed everyone when they told me that I overreacted to things and that I needed to work on improving it. While I have stubbornly denied the fact whenever presented to me, I can confirm that yes, I am sensitive, but I am not too sensitive.
The problem with this “flaw” of mine, if we dare to consider it one, is that it is often implied with a negative connotation. The Oxford Dictionary definition of sensitive is “quick to detect or respond to slight changes, signals, or influences; having or displaying a quick and delicate appreciation of others’ feelings.” I personally do not take an adverse meaning away from this definition, yet we have evolved to deem sensitivity both a weakness and an unfavorable quality in an individual. I would not doubt that my habits of reacting sensitively to particular incidents emanate from my tendency to be a perfectionist. If someone tells me that I am inadequate in some way, shape, or form, I take it to heart and I overplay it in my mind because I apply it to my own judgment of myself. We are all already our own worst critics.
People have the misunderstanding that to be sensitive is to cry about everything and to take things too personally when in reality, that is simply a fragment of what it entails. Why do we hold such a high stigma with one’s ability to acknowledge others’ emotional cues and feelings? I am considered sensitive because I feel a lot; it comes with not only being a writer but also with having empathy – something our world lacks immensely. Lack of empathy is the root cause of privilege conflicts and poor relations between countries, social groups and humanity in general. I hold a trait that allows me to understand other people and their hardships, and for that, I will never feel shame.
A recurring problem is that people believe that telling others that they are “too sensitive” will cure them and rid them of their tendencies. There is always room to improve and to grow yourself, but it gets to a point where you have to accept people for how they are in their natural, organic state. At nineteen years of age, I highly doubt that anything will significantly alter my sensitive disposition, yet many have a false inkling that I will if I just “develop a thicker skin” and “not overthink everything.” Trust me – that is way easier said than done.
Not to undermine mental illness by any means, but the concepts of depression and anxiety overlap with those of sensitivity – much like how you cannot blame someone for being chronically sad or anxious and expect them to change through experience, you cannot expect someone to become less sensitive over time if that is how they have always genuinely expressed themselves. You can get them help, but simply telling them to “stop being this” and “stop being that” is belittling. Nobody holds the right to determine the effects that someone’s actions or words have had on you, and people cannot decide whether or not they have hurt you.
If you are told that you are too sensitive, rather than perhaps overreacting to it, interpret that as another way of saying that you recognize not only your own emotions but those around you and that you exhibit a rare, unique quality. Never let anybody tell you that your feelings are invalid – chances are that there is a lot more to them beneath the surface than meets the eye.
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