I used to apologize to him for my vulnerabilities because he made me feel as though they made me a cracked tea pot of sorts. Where my broken vulnerabilities made me less functional or useless. He always scoffed at my sensitivity and treated like an ailment. If I needed medication, he always was the one to make me feel as though the medicine was damaging to me, making me less of a person.
I think that impacted how I view myself. It’s what makes me apologize for how I feel. It’s what makes me second-guess myself when I take medication. It’s altered me more than the mix CD’s or carelessly tossed, “I love you’s”. Sometimes I feel empty inside if it weren’t for my vulnerabilities and weaknesses.
I’m beginning to see my sensitivity as beautiful because then I appreciate the sunrises and the sound of laughter, the shape of a puddle, the smell of sage fresh from an herb garden. Cynicism never fit me well. I much rather be the person who feels too deeply rather than not at all.