Energy

I learned in college that I was a Highly Sensitive person.  Not in the "highly sensitive" way, but in the world of psychology, I am a person who is highly aware of her surroundings. 

This is often associated with highly gifted people, where I don't feel as such.

I do feel the energy of people, places and things, and that energy affects every ounce of my being.  I suck up energy that surrounds me like a sponge.  I feel things deeply, whether it be anticipating a new project, or the emotions of others.

I have a very low tolerance for chaos, negative energy, gossip, and things that are seemingly out of control.  I try avoid being around people who I feel conduct negative energy.

In Chinese, this energy is known as Chi.  There was a joke in my second year of college, as a very sweet friend would write on my bulletin board "Don't steal my Chi!"  To many, I seem timid or shy.  Others have described me as "guarded."  But it boils down to my level of tolerance for energy.  I have to evaluate what is happening around me and decide if my body can tolerate the influx of energy.

I avoid crowds or busy malls.  I distain entering rooms of people I don't know.  I straighten things that are out of place in the store.  I am highly aware of space around me and whether or not my shopping cart is going to be in someone's way.  I apologize for everything.  I am very intense. 

But what it boils down to is that I cannot connect to everyone that I meet.  I carry such a weight on my shoulders all the time, that I have really struggled finding a place.  I have spent the last three years disconnected and lost.  I have longed for a light to come into my life to help lift my spirits, but it never happened.  I really struggle with why God created me to be this way.   Why would God want me to feel so deeply and fully? And how does this fit in to my world, to the world of military and being a mother of four children (who are also highly sensitive.)

An Alumnae of my Alma Mater, Nobel Prize winner, Pearl S. Buck wrote:

A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.

To him... a touch is a blow,
a sound is a noise,
a misfortune is a tragedy,
a joy is an ecstasy,
a friend is a lover,
a lover is a god,
and failure is death.
Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create - - - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating."

As the days drag on, these words could not ring more true.  The battles, the failures, the love, the noise - it is all breaking me without the ability to feel alive from creating something to give back to those around me.

As I venture forward, I long to write without being too vulnerable.  But my goal is to share what introspection I have and finally find my place.