I feel you, and it hurts

I love this quote. Because it is exactly my life. All the time.

I love how a necktie on a mannequin can inspire a color palette for a design idea. I know (and so does Mike) that I’m most likely going to break down into tears overwhelmed by the beauty/stillness/sadness/love/passion in paintings when we visit art museums. I am way too happy to walk the aisles of the linen section feeling the blankets, testing for the ultimate in softness. I accept that I can get overly happy for others I barely know because they’re excited about something wonderful happening to them. It’s weird; but it’s fun being joyful like that.

Sadly, there is a dark side to being so sensitive. Every good thing about being highly sensitive ying yangs with something not as inspiring or happy. There is an exhausting, depressing, harmful side that when unchecked can take me down a rough road. Because being this sensitive is my life, it is a constant struggle to balance the beautiful inspiration everywhere and feeling everybody’s everything. It’s exhausting because this is my life all the time.

All.

The.

Time.

So when things hit the fan, I have to be careful. Or down the yellowed with grime brick road I go. I still struggle to protect myself from “bad energy” (I hate using quotes as if it’s just a metaphor for something that’s not really true). This last week was a doozy energy-wise.

I finally had to check myself because I could feel this pull – exhaustion, feeling sick, struggling through the brain fog. I checked in with a friend, too, who understands my sensitivity all too well. We agreed that I was not protecting myself from negative elements around me.

My friend and I had lunch. He got me soup. It’s over 90 degrees right now in Florida. But that soup was life giving. It was like eating soup when you have a bad cold, shivering with fever. It fills you with warmth. I swear my friend put a dose of healing energy into that soup too. He’s cool that way; magical even. By the time we broke to go back to work I felt much better. He helped me get some clarity, release the monkeys I was trying to corral, and embrace the only monkey I have ANY control over: Me.

Then I had 5 days to myself. Five glorious, detoxifying days to myself. I feel so much better. Mentally/emotionally it was easier to maneuver in life today. I’m still grateful for being able to feel the texture of colors and see music. But I am grateful to have a friend (friends) who help me realize when I’m spiraling, when I don’t need to know something because it really doesn’t have anything to do with me, and encourage me when inspiration strikes. Because, for all the bad of sensitivity, there is the beauty. I choose to embrace the beauty as much as I possibly can.