Sensitive souls and my inner circle


Sensitive souls and my inner circle

Typing that just now, I had to stifle a chuckle.

A lot if not the vast majority of my friends are sensitive people. I love them to pieces. They are joy to my life.

The best thing about having friends that really get rooted in the complexities of reality is that it’s like having a tag team. I find myself crying every now and again, but the best people that understand that I could be legitimately upset and move on in less than 5 minutes are the people that also live and enjoy that life. That doesn’t have a gender to me, but it can if you want it to for you only. It is a gift to cry, because crying is an acknowledgement of sadness that you can share. You may not always want to, but the people who will be able to spot puffy eyes and runny noses are often the people who also know that business. It is peace.

Now, it’s not like all of the emotional people have these sobbing conventions and once a month, on a very timed schedule, spontaneously combust into sea water rain and bawling in public. If we did, we’d probably do it at the mall. Lol.

But seriously, I love my friends. It’s nice to not explain when I’d rather just dance something off. It’s nice to occasionally have dancing buddies. Once again, gender is not the main component here. Dancing is a gift, and it is beautiful for the soul, and I don’t have to be female to say that. I’m probably more likely to say that because I’m a woman. But whoever is skeptical of that, I dare you to google “benefits of social dancing” and get back with me. AARP even knows, for frick’s sake.

Not all my friends dance, but that’s okay, because I do more than just dance. I have this weird personalities of the rainbow spectrum that is just there in my good friends, and took years to build. I may not be physically close with many of them and time may be an issue most of the time, but I know that most of my friends (if they’ve put up with monsoon mood swings and tidal waves up until this point) are the homies that stay my homies. Like, I’m pretty sure I could call most of them up and beg to crash on their couches in like, 5-10 years. All I have to do is look cute, have a concrete plan to contribute, and maybe be able to take no as an answer and it’s made!

I’m not trying to advocate for being a bum here, but there are a lot of perks that come with being friends with other sensitive (or more sensitive than you) souls. I am going to make a list like I’m paying it forward to them and thus God for making us all so awesome.

The list:

  • Facebook is less shallow! I don’t know about you guys, but I’m conflicted in a love hate way when it comes to Facebook. On the one hand, all my people. On the other hand, it is overwhelming, there is so much information you could never recover (and more importantly, so much misinformation), it’s basically a waste of my time always (except to chat with my friends), and I have nothing memorable or important I really want or need to say in such a tiny status obligatory window (I do, and I still get likes here and there, but the point is I’d rather just write it longer). I like when I like one of my friends who is sensitive things, there’s this bizarre unspoken sensitive person lingo that they like one of my things. This developed recently, or at least, I began to be more okay with it and pay attention, but man, talk about a confidence booster. Like, I’m just as controversial here as I am on Facebook, and I legitimately don’t want to fight but some things could bear discussions. If all my people are on Facebook and most of the people who don’t like what I have to say or don’t like me in general have already unfollowed me, why the not give that a shot? Granted, there’s always a spare opinion here and there. But that’s what I want! It’s nice to have people that are able to someone telekinetically support that in a cordless way.
  • They appreciate all the silly. I can call certain friends and leave terrible hope-to-god-it-is-never-on-the-internet renditions of me singing Meow Mix to a bad Pavarotti impression, and not only do those people appreciate it, they think I’m hilarious. I’m not really hilarious! They’re just my people.
  • I can communicate without words. Gestures. Expressive eye twitches. Glares. My sister says I have a baby face which is really just what she wants to say when she can’t tell me I look happier and healthier and less fat, so I make the best of that. You want me to use my face twitches to beat box to Taylor Swift’s latest radio single? I can do that. I can also send it to you on Snapchat. Oh the technology! But srsly I could be Youtube famous but I’d rather save it for my frands.
  • I can be really blunt, because odds are, they already know and just want someone to call them on it in a not mean way.
  • The logic is still there! We can be logical as hell and decide to abandon it, or we can be goobers. It’s nice, because I don’t have to qualify anything. I don’t know why the logic ppl and the goober ppl think they have to choose, they don’t. It was always all there. Just live.
  • I get the feeling I would have a high pain tolerance. I like to talk about everything, and for whatever reason, the sensitive people are the most likely to also want to talk about the terrible things, at least when it only plays off of one or more senses. You see it, smell it, and hear it, that is a different story, that would probably qualify as trauma. But the best part is, these people have to deal with that crap so often that if you listen and act like a decent human being, they’ll problem tell you to shut up in some way. It may not be words, but staring off into the distance, staring at my hands, staring at my shoes, fidgeting my feet or getting emotional for no good reason are all things I do when I hear about scary things. Go freaking figure. Because my sensitive homies can read me like, really easy, we can return the favor without words and just change the stupid subject.
  • They also like to go on walks! Nothing like walking out your conflicted procrastinating self-blame, can I get an amen?
  • We make really dumb inside jokes, and you either have to be Nicolas Cage or a nutcracker to figure out what we are talking about if we are laughing at you or rather (duh), near you. You’ll never know, because it could be anything! And if it’s not something classy? It could just be a joke about poorly timed bodily functions. That’s a humor without trying. I’m not going to apologize for thinking those things are funny, because they are! At least, they think so.
  • We like to do dumb stuff because we can. My dumb, I mean awesome, adventurous, new, fascinating, not entirely safe, or all of those things! That doesn’t make us dangerous, in fact, it makes us waaaaaaaaay more likely to know our limits if we listen to them! We don’t always, but no one else does! And that’s where it got sad. Mostly I’m just talking about picnics.
  • And the award to most likely to know that random plot twist, Disney lyric, or bad reference goes to ______!
  • Last but not least: The worst comes with the best. No one choose how much terrible they experience, but you choose how much you accept it. The thing about being very sensitive is that you see all that is beautiful in HD but you also see all that is correspondingly terrible with the same lenses. It is a blessing like the stuff of dreams (or nightmares). You decide! It’s only a curse if you let it be, or you believe all the people who are kind-of-just-bastard people anyways!




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I am a second-grade teacher and pastor-to-be who loves people. I spend my weekends with friends or wandering the museums of DC alone and with a journal, trying to put words on the places of the soul that still feel wordless. I spent most of my days at school trying to learn patience through my students and running on sheer nerdy passion. I follow Jesus Christ, and savor that as my most important identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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