You Can Be Sensitive AND Be a Bad Ass, Part 1

Andrea Gibson (1975-2025) 

Dear Courageous Thrivers,

Have you ever...
read a passage in a book or heard someone speak in an interview and thought, “Oh my gosh! They understand! They know what it’s like to be me!”?

That was my experience when I read this line:

“I was most at home with my inner life . . . afraid of the challenges of daily life.”

I’m guessing a few of you felt that same “ping” I did when you read it.
(It’s in Mark Nepo’s book The One Life We’re Given.)

It’s not easy being a sensitive soul who feels the world so deeply.
It’s also quite lovely.

So, if that description resonates for you, I hope you’ll take a moment to express genuine thankfulness for that part of you that makes the world feel so hard to be in sometimes...

You know it well.
That part of you that makes the emotions of others show up in technicolor and seep into your bones before you even realize they’re not yours.
That part that causes you to cry at the amazing beauty of the early morning sun shining on a drop of water held tenuously at the end of a blade of grass.

And the part that makes it so hard for you to shift from that mystical moment into making lunches for your kids, or prepping your classroom for the day, or just taking a shower and brushing your teeth.

Fill your heart with gratitude for this beautiful part of you that can make daily life such a challenge (even when the world isn’t actively exploding around you).
Because it’s the same part that makes the world light up for you in ways others don’t see.

Lucky you.
Lucky us.
And also—it’s not easy.

It’s not easy to experience the emotional whiplash of shifting from the transcendent mystical to the tedium of the everyday.

BUT / AND / ALSO: we can do it.
And we can learn to do it well.
With less angst and drama.
With more equanimity.

If we take good care of ourselves and build up our bad ass muscles at the same time.

Step 1: Choose what names you use for yourself

When I was a professor, teaching (and learning) about children’s varied temperaments, I read about research that shows that some children’s nervous systems react—physiologically—in much more extreme ways than others to the exact same stimuli.

We teachers and parents are often unintentionally really unkind to these children.

We call them fussy or “difficult.” We think they aren’t very strong or courageous.
When in reality, they are literally experiencing a loud noise, a change in routine, or a new scent in a very different way than other children.
It is ACTUALLY harder for them than for the other child.

So, while it appears on the surface that they lack strength, the fact that they are managing so many of these experiences without completely falling apart means they are coping creatively—and being so strong.
We just can’t see it.

Then I realized I was judging myself in similarly negative ways.

Those of us with extra-sensitive nervous systems might be called “empaths.”
Some people call us “mystics,” “creatives,” “artists,” or “Enneagram 4s.”
Some people call us “emotional basket-cases,” “too sensitive,” “weird,” or “high maintenance.”

I’ll stop there. The point is:
We get to pick the name we choose to own for ourselves. That’s Step One.

For years, I accepted the “emotional basket case” label.
Admittedly, it still shows up in my brain sometimes, along with “broken,” “ridiculous,” and “all alone.” That’s one of my brain’s favorites.

For years I would regularly ask myself, "What’s wrong with me?"
Other people could work longer hours, watch more intense movies, heck, even enjoy their kids’ competitive sports games. But all those things wiped me out emotionally.

Surely I was broken. Inherently wrong somehow.

Now (on most days), I remember:
I’m highly sensitive and empathetic, and I have a brain that likes to put negative thoughts on automatic replay.

These characteristics are basically neutral.
Like money or power or other resources—it’s not having them or not having them that matters.
What matters is how they are used.

So label yourself with an identity that helps you remember that you’re perfectly imperfect just as you are.
And maybe even have fun with your particular form of weirdness!

Step 2: Create the support systems you need

Once I accepted that I have a sensitive nervous system—maybe even a sensitive spirit—I began caring for myself in ways that support the unique challenges and gifts that come with it. That’s Step Two.

For example:
I often ask for quiet when riding with my husband in the car, or at home. Total. Quiet.
Not even instrumental jazz music in the background.

I also make sure I support my ability to sleep for at least eight hours a night.
(Which involves all kinds of small choices about how much, when, and what I drink.
When I stop looking at screens or doing work, etc.)
It seems ridiculous sometimes—how much effort it takes to sleep well!

I also get support for my spiritual self through daily practices, retreats, and hanging out with other people who share my desire to connect with the Divine.

But I’m not stopping at caring for my sensitive self—and I hope you won’t either.
Next week I’ll talk about Step 3: Increasing Your Capacity.

In the meantime…

I leave you with a brief story about Andrea Gibson, who died this week, with some of their last words being:

“I f-ing loved my life.”

Andrea shared in several interviews (like this one) that they used to struggle with anxiety, depression, and panic attacks—but those issues mostly went away when they got their terminal cancer diagnosis.
They explained the change by saying that somehow, with the diagnosis came an understanding that they were not alone.
That they were part of the whole Universe.

You also are never alone.
You are always part of Humanity and this crazy, horrible, beautiful, amazing world.

Though your big emotions and harsh thoughts may tell you otherwise at times—this is what’s true.

At least, it’s what I’ve found to be true when I come up from my frequent journeys into my own emotional underworld.

And when you forget that you belong here—and that you are deeply loved and worthy right now—without reading one more self-help book or fixing one more flaw...
Andrea’s poetry is here to remind you.

You might start with Boomerang Valentine.

Here’s to thriving and equity,

Deb

P.S.

Another resource I’ve returned to a lot on my journey to care for my sensitive soul is Katherine North’s Practical Magic for Secret Mystics. Let me know if you decide to try it out. I’d love to walk alongside you as you do.