Some people are praised for being “unbothered.”Some are celebrated for being “tough.”But in this work—in this life—I have found something far more pow
Some people are praised for being “unbothered.”
Some are celebrated for being “tough.”
But in this work—in this life—I have found something far more powerful:
Sensitivity.
Not the kind that flinches at discomfort, but the kind that leans in anyway.
The kind that notices what others ignore.
The kind that hears what isn’t said.
The kind that still chooses compassion in a world that rewards cold detachment.
Let me be clear:
Sensitive isn’t weak.
It’s sacred.
It takes strength to feel everything and still show up.
To sit beside someone else’s pain without minimizing it.
To hold space, even when the silence is heavy and the story is hard.
To carry empathy in a world that tries to strip it away at every turn.
The ones who are sensitive are often the ones who stay.
Long after the headlines fade.
Long after the applause dies down.
Long after it stops being convenient.
Sensitivity isn’t some flaw to fix.
It’s a gift. A spiritual practice.
It’s the part of you that lets people know:
“You are safe with me. I will not look away.”
In survivor work, in healing work, in justice work…
The ones who can still feel—after all they’ve lived through—
are the ones who are carrying the torch forward.
And yes, sensitivity will cost you.
People will call it weakness, fragility, being “too emotional.”
But what they miss is this:
It is the sensitive ones who see what’s coming.
It is the sensitive ones who stop the harm before it begins.
It is the sensitive ones who catch the whispers of a child’s soul.
So if you’re someone who feels deeply, who gets called “too much,”
who has to retreat sometimes just to breathe again—
know this:
You are not broken.
You are built for sacred work.
