When I was younger, my parents said over and over that I wore my heart on my sleeve. Since I was 7 and apparently hadn’t learned metaphors in school yet, I had no idea what it meant. Now, at 19, I think I understand it pretty well, partly because my reading comprehension has slightly improved, but also because I’ve lived it.
My parents weren’t wrong. For the last (nearly) two decades I’ve been alive, I have worn my heart on my sleeve. If you didn’t hear this phrase over and over growing up, you might not be familiar with it. Essentially, to wear your heart on your sleeve means to be very open or easy to read emotionally.
For most of my life, I thought this was a bad trait to have. Not because my parents said it with any negative connotation, but because of the phrase itself. I wasn’t a doctor as a kid, nor did I have any medical knowledge, but I was pretty sure your heart is supposed to be inside your body. When I was old enough to understand what it meant, I still didn’t really like it. Using the phrase to describe me just made me feel different than everyone else. Did not everyone feel in the same way?
For me, I think I’m this way simply because I’m so emotional. It’s hard to hide what you’re feeling when you feel things so intensely. For so long, I’ve hated how deeply, and (evidently) obviously, I feel emotions. The thing is, though, I wouldn’t change it for anything.
So why should I hate it?
The vulnerability that comes with being open is terrifying. I’ve never been one to say exactly what’s on my mind out of fear of repercussions, whatever they may be, even though it seems like my face sometimes does it for me. But being vulnerable isn’t inherently a bad thing.
My friends and family always know how I’m feeling, so they never have to guess. They know when to comfort me, even when the words “I need someone to lean on” won’t come out. We don’t go through miscommunications where they’re left wondering if I’m upset with them. They just know.
And the thing about feeling more deeply than others is just that: I get to feel more deeply than others.
It isn’t a curse, but a gift, and exactly how God made me.
Being emotional means I notice the things someone else might overlook. I get to celebrate the little things and grieve the big ones. I can notice when someone’s voice changes when they’re upset because mine does the same thing. And I like to think that me being so openly emotional signals to others that I can relate and be a safe space if they’re ever more upset than usual or want to celebrate something tiny.
I love knowing exactly what I’m feeling the moment I start feeling it. I love how empathetic I am. I love that I care so much about everyone and everything living that I cry over animals lost to traffic, strangers getting engaged on TikTok, or anything even remotely emotionally invoking. I’ve sobbed at countless movies. Out of all the movies I’ve watched, I’ve probably cried at the majority of them, whether it be out of sadness or happiness. In fact, I cried today while in my friend, Maggie’s, room, when she read me a sentence from her journal from before moving back in that said she missed me.
It is such a huge part of me that I couldn’t imagine myself being any less compassionate.
So, yes, I’m sorry if me crying over something you deem stupid inconveniences you, or if I get too loud when I’m in a good mood because it just happens naturally.
I’m not sorry because I am the way that I am. I’m sorry that you don’t get to feel as deeply as I do.
Maybe I’m a little easy to read. Maybe I feel too much sometimes. But I’d rather feel too much than not enough.