“I don’t know what it is like to not have deep emotions. Even when I feel nothing, I feel it completely” – Sylvia Plath
When I say the word ‘sensitive’, what does it bring to mind? Does it make you think of weakness or being ‘overly-feminine’? Do you feel detached from the word because of your gender or age?
For the longest time I have had an aversion to the term ‘sensitive’, and have made a conscious effort to avoid it being associated with me. I believed that sensitivity meant all of those things I have listed above. I was determined not to be seen as weak, and felt infuriated by the expectation and stereotype of women being hyper-sensitive. However, I have come to accept that I am indeed a person who feels emotions very strongly and am influenced greatly by the world around me; this is something mental rather than to do with my gender. It’s important to understand that sensitivity is largely stigmatised, but that in reality, sensitivity can be a power, rather than a weakness.
The stigma around being a sensitive person coincides with the way we are conditioned throughout our lives to repress certain emotions. In our childhoods we are encouraged not to cry, not to say what we really think, or express dislike or disinterest for fear of coming across as impolite, rude or too emotional. We all know of the brutality of children’s behaviour towards each other, and the regularity and systematic nature of bullying forces many children to learn to repress emotions in order to avoid pain and conflict. As teenagers trying to find our place in social spheres, it is often seen as childish (and therefore deplorable), to be emotional and/or speak up for what you believe in. School bullies may have picked on you because you seemed an easy target, but in reality they were most likely as equally, if not more sensitive, as you, leading them to deflect their insecurities through sharp words and violence. To show sensitivity or vulnerability, particularly in childhood but also in adulthood, is to have a gap in your armour through which someone or something can wound you. No matter what gender you are, you are entitled to feel your own emotions as they come and go and communicate them to others too.
Sensitivity is a highly gendered subject; both men and women face a stigma and expectation surrounding emotional control. As women, we are expected to be more sensitive, the patriarchy using our hormones to both justify this sensitivity and use it as a weapon against us. A woman can be neither too sensitive, for risk of being seen as hysterical and out of control, nor too insensitive for risk of being less feminine, unattractive, and basically a hard hearted b*tch. Men, too, have a social boundary with sensitivity; sensitivity in men is seen as weakness and unmanliness (and therefore feminine – god forbid!). For some reason, it has become normal to assume that men just don’t have any feelings, or at least are not allowed to show them, which of course is entirely false.
It becomes extremely difficult to change our mindset on sensitivity due to the inevitable influence upon us by our social environments (dictated by the patriarchy) as we grow up. However, I want to make clear that it is only social expectations that have enforced this fear of sensitivity, and therefore we have it in our power to try and change our mindset. I like to think that as the world is opening its mind to matters of mental health, people will come to realise that showing sensitivity can be used as a strength and is also something that makes life so abundant and bountiful.
Being able to be sensitive, and really feel the joys and pains of life in its full extent is wonderful! Poetry, literature, films, art, random acts of kindness, generosity, hard work, labours of love, ambitions, dreams… These all affect me greatly and evoke an intense response, which I try to lap up and store in my memory. I find myself feeling overwhelmed at the beauty of the natural world, and am not so unusually brought to tears by the sun bursting through clouds, the sound of moving water or the sensation of having mud on my hands. Moving to London, my heart gets filled with joy witnessing tender human encounters such as a child and their parents, an elderly couple, or two friends laughing uncontrollably. Music and dancing also provokes an all encompassing reaction in me; my body and mind become so energised by an intense feeling of wholeness and ecstasy, and I feel inspired to express myself creatively.
More recently, I have found that it is little moments that have a huge impact on me too. I was recently sat on the trunk of a huge tree in Hyde park, some bark started to fall down in front of me, and I looked up to see a woodpecker chipping away at a low hanging branch and I instantly felt a smile stretch across my brain. My mind is full of these magical moments, and it is vital to remember that not all moments in life make you feel like this, but it’s holding onto and living for the positive moments, that creates a library of joyous, simple memories.
The flip side of this is when something happens that evokes an intense negative response. I was at a nightclub to celebrate a friend’s birthday recently…I was already feeling fragile that night, and as my friend and I did the obligatory hand holding as we forced our way through the sweaty crowd, I felt someone slip an ice cube down the front of my top. I looked back and a man, who I had never seen before, was freakishly grinning at me. I immediately broke down into tears, shocking him no doubt, dumbfounded by this encounter. Although I did end up dancing the night away, I had tears rolling down my cheek for the rest of the night, any sign of makeup completely vanished by the time I got home.
My emotional sensitivity has also allowed me to create deep and lifelong friendships, and I’m often overwhelmed with love for my friends. I have been lucky enough to find people who are as equally fascinated by the depth of their feeling as me, and when we’re together, inspiration, creativity, and endless humour bounces off the walls. Of course, my ability to make meaningful connections with people sometimes leads to romantic love and then naturally heartbreak, and although intensely painful, I take it as a privilege that I can love the way I do. I have found that acknowledging my sensitivity has increased my empathy, my curiosity and passion for helping other people and the state of our planet, and has fueled my creativity. An example of challenges I face with my high sensitivity is that small changes in routine, or slightly hostile interactions with strangers make me anxious, and I frequently feel stressed about leaving home, either for uni or for any occasion when I’d be away overnight.
I recently came across an instagram video from the psychologist Wedny Suzuki in which she explains that the number one predictor of a long life is positive interactions with people; having positive human interactions, banter, kind words and even remembering someone’s name have an immense impact on your mental wellbeing. I think this ties in nicely to the idea of being highly sensitive; if everyone could make the small, conscious effort to be mindful of those around them, and try to remember that each person you encounter in your day has their own struggles and tenderness, then you really might turn someone’s day around for the better, which is an easily obtainable goal!
The title of this article aptly sums up my attitude towards sensitivity. I have tried and I failed to have a heart of stone, wanting to be unaffected by the world and people around me and the expectations set upon me as a woman living in the patriarchal system. Instead, my heart is quite clearly a sponge, absorbing all that is put into it. I wonder whether you like to think of yourself as having a heart of stone, too? If so, it might be beneficial to ask yourself why? Being fearful of emotions only limits you, you could shut yourself off from making lifelong friends, or experiencing the pleasure of finding a song that exactly fits the mood you are in, or feeling the ultimate comfort and deliciousness of a good hug. Perhaps you are not a sensitive person at all, and in that case I encourage you to explore being present, taking in moments as part of the narrative of your life, even if you don’t feel reactions to them. I hope that it will be something that enriches you and makes you excited for what other encounters and strong feelings you might come across in the future.
“But to make yourself feel nothing, so as not to feel anything…what a waste” – Call Me By Your Name, André Aciman