“For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn’t understand growth, it would look like complete destruction.” ~Cynthia Occelli
The whole time I was growing up, I was told, incessantly, that I was “too sensitive.” These words, when I first heard them, came from the mouth of the person I vowed I would never become.
And yet, as I grew up, these words didn’t stay within the darkness of my childhood home. They began to roll out of the mouths of kids on the playground, boyfriends, classmates, friends.
“Wow, you’re really touchy.”
“You’re so emotional.”
“You’re turning really red. Are you, like, really offended right now? You should take a chill pill.”
“You can’t take a joke.”
Often, my reaction was to a joke—an insulting one. I’ve never liked insult humor, and yet it’s followed me throughout my life. It was (and still is) there in my Eastern European origins and it was there every step of the way when I came to Canada as an immigrant.
They were right. I just couldn’t take a joke.
Each time this would happen, I would own it. Yes, I was too sensitive. It was my fault. I had to try to …