I get told a lot that I am too sensitive. I know. This heart loves too much and feels too much and aches and bleeds all over the place with wild abandon. I tip over and pour out at the first sign of distress in another. I know this. I know how it will kill me every time. I should probably be more intentional about protecting myself from all this breaking.
But…I am not there yet. I know what it is to live years of living hard and sheltered and quite alone. Those days and nights where no one got in and nothing of me got out are a distant memory, but they still haunt me. Those were terrible days. No love there. Not for me or anyone else. It just hurt too much.
A darling friend who has known me for a very long time recently told me that her favorite thing about me was that I love so hopefully…and hopelessly. I laughed then, knowing deep in me that this loving like a wildfire thing is both a blessing and a curse. I still choose it. The alternative simply will not do. Even when I know people are taking advantage. They think I don’t, but I do. I am a lover, not a fool. I still choose love.
In this journey of living out love and breathing deeply in who I am, I found this brief bundle of words recently and it touched my deep places, the places where the scars and joys reside in harmony. For the girls with the too-big hearts and the too-thin skins, because I know you are out there living out your love in your own little tribe, this is for you. With all the love and understanding I can muster this morning….
“she was always shunned away
for feeling way too much.
indeed, she did make everything too hard for herself by
taking every damn thing to her bones.
but what can she do?
you can’t really blame the sea for creating waves
or the moon for reflecting light
or the stars for shining bright
amidst the darkness of night.
she, indeed, believed that
we are supposed to feel
each and every little thing,
and for her,
that was the only way
to really live.”