I've been called sensitive...too many times to count. I've been told to grow a thicker skin or to not take things personally.
My nature has brought me success and failures. It has brightened some days and darkened others. It's been acknowledged by others as a weakness and a strength. A tragic, beautiful flaw.
I'm sensitive to everything. To peoples moods and tone of voice...to smell and touch--so ticklish! I'm sensitive to the weather--I always get a headache when the air is that kind of thick air that is aching for rain. I'm sensitive to the moon and bleed when it's full and ovulate when it's at its most dark. I am sensitive.
But I am also incredibly adaptable, strong and resilient. My adaptability is like selenite to my sensitivity. It charges it and sometimes makes it more powerful--mostly but not always for my benefit.
I've lived in the city for a lot of years now and I struggle more than I ever let on. I really, really struggle. I struggle with my self-image and with my desire to acquire things that I think I should want...filling up the darkness with stuff. I struggle with what and how I eat because I'm trapped in a cycle and food feels good to my brain. It's a drug now and has been for a long time. I struggle with the amount of physical activity I do. Especially in the winter. I struggle because I'm sensitive and I'm always thinking about everything. It never turns off. It comes from feeling in pieces and from being sensitive to this weird world.
I work as a sustainability coordinator for a major cosmetics company and I love my job and I believe in everything that I am so blessed to do. My personal struggles prevents me from feeling all the way good about what I've been doing because I'm not practicing what I preach in a few different ways.
I've only ever had success with making changes in my life, when I've wrote about it.
I'm gonna write about it.
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