Sensitivity

Sensitivity. noun, plural sen·si·tiv·i·ties the state or quality of being sensitive; sensitiveness. Physiology .the ability of an organism or part of an organism to react to stimuli; irritability. degree of susceptibility to stimulation.

My therapist always tries to normalize my condition. She will say, “Everyone feels the things you do, you just feel them on extreme levels.” And I guess she’s right. But how am I supposed to explain to someone without bipolar how things like death impact me mentally and emotionally. Not just personal death. Any death. Seeing deer dead on the back of a truck. Hearing about Stan Lee passing. I don’t handle these things because of my sensitivity.

“Sensitive people usually love deeply and hate deeply. They don’t know any other way to live than by extremes because their emotional thermostat is broken.” ― Shannon L. Alder

Ben always says, “you don’t feel things you FEEL things.” Which I guess is also true. Growing up I always blamed my strong opinions and feelings on church. I thought that I was indoctrinated into these strong beliefs and feelings but as I get older, I realize they weren’t really taught. They’re just there. Being bipolar is living constantly between extremes. My emotional thermostat is broken. And now, I’m at half the dose of what I usually get for meds. What used to help me with these extremes is going away and I now have to experience all of the extremes again.

Don’t get me wrong, meds don’t take that all away, it just dulls some of it. Feeling things the way that I do can be great and mania isn’t always all bad. I’ve cried at every wedding I’ve ever been to because I can’t handle the beauty of it. Babies give me life. Taking care of animals every day and just loving this soul that adores seeing me every day for their walk is just indescribable. I feel elated. I feel unstoppable. Sometimes.

It’s the sadness and anger that suck. Suck is an accurate description because these feelings literally suck me in. I can’t handle them. I freak out. I sob. I punch mirrors. I scream. When I heard about Stan Lee passing I completely lost it. I sobbed. Then 5 minutes later I found out my best friend was able to get a puppy. I sobbed again, but this time out of pure joy.

Telling someone they’re too sensitive is not ok. I got told that my whole life. “Faith you need to handle your emotions. You need to calm down.” If I would lose a game of soccer I was told to stop acting like it was the end of the world, but you see for me, it was the end. I could feel nothing else.

Now, I am proudly sensitive. I feel bad that others will never know the depth of my emotions. I’m bipolar. But I love harder than you and for that I am proud.

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