I was the child who cried when people looked at me funny or laughed when I did something cute. I blushed at the very thought of speaking aloud or performing in front of a crowd. As a preschooler, I couldn’t distinguish when people where making fun or admiring something I’d done. Maybe this sensitivity or shyness came from being a “mommy’s girl” but alas, it was how I was wired.

Being naturally introverted, I people-watched and intently observed human behavior and interactions wherever I went. That meant I didn’t speak much because I was busy watching from the outside. Being the third-party observer, I gained a sensitivity to my world and innate compassion for the underdogs in most situations (and still do to this day).

So, how did I process all that I observed? How did I come to interact more normally in an extroverted world? I honed my strengths:  my voice, performing arts, and writing. Of course, I didn’t know what I was doing at the time. I was just trying to fit in amongst my peers by doing what I enjoyed.

My fifth grade teacher, Mr. Paul loved to make his students laugh. He had the funniest jokes and made us laugh every day. But, he noticed I didn’t laugh out loud. I was a silent, red-faced, shoulder-jerking, silent laugher. So, he called me out on it; told me I wouldn’t graduate to middle school unless I learned to laugh out loud by the end of the school year. That prodding helped me discover my unique voice.

Music and theater worked wonders for this sensitive child. I could express myself in music and theater enjoyed singing and acting in school performances. If I made a mistake, it wasn’t noticeable because I was surrounded by classmates. Yes, I’d get butterflies and blush a lot, but the more I participated in those performances, the braver I became until I could fully participate and sing solos by the end of high school.

Writing was always my favored way to process life. It’s like the world made more sense when I could read the emotions on the page. I could express every raw and private emotion in my journal without fear that I’d make someone angry and without an argument. It’s how I did my best thinking (and arguing, I suppose).

We all know sensitive people (child or adult). They’re the ones who sometimes have those knee-jerk, irrational reactions to what we would call a “normal” situation. While their reactions need work, realize discovering and encouraging their strengths will help them mature into confident, compassionate, and yes, appropriately sensitive adults.

Blessings,

Dawn