I have struggled for years accepting that I am a highly sensitive person (HSP). Some of you will laugh, because it’s so obviously me and so obviously not an option for me to be any different. HSPs have big feelings and we feel everything, all the time. Sounds exhausting right? I’m learning that being an HSP is also what makes me a kick-ass yoga therapist.
I’m compassionate, empathetic, kind and open. People have always commented (in amazement, not less) that I’m sooo NICE. Now this sounds like only a positive, right? Not always. I’ve been too nice to date, too nice to let in on dirty little secrets and definitely too nice to invite to partake in any sketchy behavior. Now, in my 40s I’m okay with all that, but as a teen it was sort of hell.
Some of you know that I’m a big Danielle LaPorte fan and if there’s anyone who wears her HSP badge more proudly than Danielle, I’ve yet to meet him/her.
Sometimes I can kinda take or leave Danielle’s newsletter. Don’t get me wrong, she’s talented, funny and a true individual, but sometimes I gloss over the poetry or the announcements of her newest endeavor because I got my own shit.
Today, I was cleaning up my inbox and came across this post. It spoke to me because sometimes the world’s hurts/sickness/brokenness cuts so deeply that I can barely breathe and sometimes the amazing humanity/goodness/gentleness of this world caresses and massages my heart so that it hurts. I relate to what Danielle writes and I wanted to share. I’m finally loving my sensitivity and am slowly learning how to protect and nurture myself.
Sensitive people are a different breed. I am so deeply grateful/happy/honored to call myself one.