The world is unsettled — so are you. Here’s a reason to keep going.
Dear Highly Sensitive Soul,
To start off: this is not a love letter. You, my fellow highly sensitive person, are in no state to comprehend the love that surrounds you (rest assured, it does) right now. Instead, please read this as a “life letter.” One that allows your pain to exist as it is, one that sees you searching for that life raft as you try not to drown in the current chaotic world. Let this be your momentary saving grace.
There are reasons to keep going. You may not know them right now. If you do know, you may not yet accept them. There are reasons to stay, to try, even to hope.
Please remember, this is temporary. You have to believe that. Please try to believe that.
The world is unsettled — so are you. The combination of the two makes it hard to deal with reality. Getting up in the morning is a brutal task, but yet you still manage to do it.
There is so much pain in you right now. Acknowledge your pain. Right now, it feels like your biggest enemy. The depression, the darkness that surrounds you, is suffocating. Your body feels weighed down by it while your mind is consumed.
And the captivity — both the physical and mental captivity — can be all-consuming. It’s an isolation caused by a worldwide pandemic that leaves you feeling deserted.
I name this pain not to torture you, but rather because it deserves to be seen, heard, and felt. And our scientists tell us that emotions hit highly sensitive people harder. (Lucky us, right?)
You may think you’ve had to be strong for too long, but that’s a good thing — you are strong, and will continue to be strong for as long as you live.
Your actions can determine your future. They have consequences. Please don’t be reckless with your decisions.
Take a deep breath now. Just one long inhale. Followed by a release of agony. It’s OK to cry.
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Change Is in the Realm of Possibility
People are rooting for you even when you are unable to root for yourself. No one is asking you to believe what they think, but at least recognize that their intentions are honest. Hold onto that sliver of positivity that they are desperately trying to give you.
Positivity — ugh. You may feel like that word kinda makes you want to puke. There’s nothing to be positive about right now. You know, maybe you’re not all that far off: The world around you looks to be crumbling in every way. Whether you like it or not, this is our collective reality.
Collective. That word, though, can have meaning. You have always been a person of service. The big picture you always think about, the one that leads you to help others — maybe, perhaps, that can grow into a reciprocal relationship. This pain you feel is bigger than you.
Go back to your many cheerleaders in life. Go to those you don’t even know yet. They want you to know that your life matters. In this messy space we occupy, every life means something to someone. You believe that about others; why can’t you see it for yourself?
Change does not happen overnight, but it is in the realm of possibility. Take your next step, breathe your next breath. It’s OK to be gentle and to take small strides. Every step counts.
This letter may not begin to solve your problems, but hopefully it has given you a glimpse into the reasons to stand, to take another step. There are, always have been, and will continue to be reasons.
A future you