As a kid, I hated to be you. Never wanted anything to do with you. I begged for trouble to harden up and get away from you.

I found you weak. Always be cared for. Not the way I believed life was made for. Needy and greedy. Wake up late, then ask for more. You know your type, the sleepers, proud dreamers. Getting sick then asking their mom to make their beds. Playing games then popcorn and coke to watch the next. Where’s the effort? The fat vultures, easy takers, shortcut seekers. Ugh. The slightest association disgusted me.

So I built a whole life made of the opposite. Took pride in picking up everyone’s struggle to get more of it. Hard challenges with impossible timelines attracted me. Intensity desired me. And my anger to be called you fueled me. Turned myself into a machine that was always on. Built to perform. Expected to never rest. Only if I ended up with a severe illness I guess.

Pattern recognition with a curiosity always on was my being. System thinking was my only way of thinking. Most questions felt annoying. Don’t disrespect me by showing the door in front of me. Let me get you what’s inside without the lock opening.

I needed the path to hurt me. I wanted the pain to last so I could earn it. Otherwise I would be just like you. Most of you are getting it easy. Labeled special, called smart, people thinking it just comes easy. I felt robbed of all the pain I had to put up to get through it.

Imagine the voices I built in my head along the way to motivate me away from you. I hired a whole army of high performers to train me to get you. A whole board of directors to punish me whenever I felt you. And I always asked for more. What an addict.

Imagine all the scars on my body and soul to prove to the world I’m not you. My father’s voice run on low repeat in my head to not be you. Don’t be so sensitive. You’ll grow up weak. Don’t be so picky with your food. Eat whatever that’s in front of you. Be like this person or that person. They are not you. You are thinking too much. Just stop thinking like that. That’s too much.

Imagine my surprise when I learned the power in you. The aha moment in my head when I learned about you. Creativity through the roof is what you gave to me. Since then I read sensitivity as creativity. HSP with Complex PTSD. So trust me, I have lots of you.

I know how you play. Every time I ignore you, all my senses scream for you. A simple touch turns into stabbing for me. Lights and sounds feels like the world is exploding in me. Just someone’s mere presence next to me, feels like an alien staring at me.

Now imagine how I feel, now that I’m embracing you. Treating you like I never left you. Telling my senses to go get more of you. Observing all the information they are feeding me because of you. Channeling the energy to find alignment between what’s within and what’s without to understand you.

After all, I guess they were right about you. I am you. What a dull life it would be if I wasn’t you.

Now call me sensitive.

I like it more.