Maybe It Wasn’t a Wound — Maybe It Was Just Me

For most of my life, I thought my sensitivity was a defect.
Too much. Too soft. Too emotional.
Not man enough.

It was framed as weakness. Something to be hardened, hidden, or overcome.

But what if that was never true?
What if it wasn’t a wound…
What if it was just me?

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I’ve never liked hurting people. Even in settings where it was expected—like Jiu-Jitsu—I felt that hesitation in my body. A kind of quiet refusal to dominate, even when I technically could.

That part of me used to make me feel ashamed.
Was I weak? Was I scared? Was I broken?

But now, with space and reflection, I realise:

I wasn’t broken. I was whole. I just didn’t live in a world that knew how to receive me.

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Yes, maybe trauma shaped how sharply I feel things.
But the ability to feel deeply itself? That didn’t come from pain. That came from me.

From the beginning, I’ve been tuned in—emotionally attuned, observant, subtle.
And yes, it made me different.
But it’s also what makes me a good father. A strong communicator. A safe space. A future counsellor.

This trait I was taught to fear?
It’s my greatest strength.

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And now, finally, I’ve found places where it’s not just tolerated—it’s revered.
In therapeutic work.
In real friendships.
In love that doesn’t require masks.

I don’t have to perform. I don’t have to prove.
I just get to be.

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Sure, part of me wishes I’d figured this out sooner.
But I understand now why it took time.
I had to walk enough circles, bump into enough walls, hurt enough times—to really accept this part of me, not just tolerate it.

And now that I have?

I wouldn’t trade my sensitivity for anything.

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To anyone who’s felt “too much” their whole life—

Maybe it’s not a flaw.
Maybe it’s not the residue of trauma.
Maybe it’s your deepest truth, waiting for your permission to stay soft in a hard world.

And if no one ever told you this before—
You don’t have to change. You just have to come home to yourself.