You’re not too sensitive. You’re born to see the unseen, feel what’s hidden, and light the way.
“I’m too sensitive to do that work.”
It’s something I’ve heard countless times—usually spoken softly, almost apologetically, by a student, a client, or someone who just learned that part of my work involves murder cases, missing people, or guiding others through their darkest nights.
Every time I hear it, I take a deep breath. Not because I’m frustrated—but because I feel the launch point. That quiet pause is me asking, Where do I start? How do I help someone who has been led to believe their sensitivity is a flaw, rather than their deepest source of strength?
There’s no quick rulebook answer, because we each arrive at that belief through personal history. Trauma, family dynamics, or cultural conditioning can convince us that being sensitive means we’re fragile, emotional, or incapable.
But that’s not true.
👑 The Princess and the Pea: A Metaphor for Supersensitivity
I once wrote about The Princess and the Pea—a story I love, because it captures what being highly sensitive really means.
The princess couldn't sleep because a tiny pea was hidden beneath twenty mattresses. That wasn’t weakness. That was her gift. Supersensitivity is the ability to sense what others can’t see.
It’s the quiet knowing that something’s off, even when the surface looks perfect.
It’s how you can look at someone like Ted Bundy—charming, handsome, smiling—and still feel something chilling beneath. Supersensitives aren’t deceived by appearances. They feel beneath the disguise.
💔 What I Couldn’t Say Before My First Marriage
Two weeks before my first marriage, I must have been questioning my decision—though I never allowed those thoughts to fully surface. Why?
Was it fear? Maybe.
Was it past trauma teaching me that my voice didn’t matter? Very likely.
I’d learned that the most powerful person in the room held the choice—and it certainly wasn’t me.
But when I helped others, my power came on full. I could read danger, feel what was needed, offer guidance or comfort. Sensitivity became a tool of protection and clarity. For others. And eventually, for myself too.
🕯️ When Karen Died, Her Wings Opened
My dear friend Karen was dying. As her time grew near, what came naturally to me was simply sitting in silence, holding her hand, and being present. I knew that if I let my fear take over, she would feel it instantly.
So fear got kicked to the curb.
When the town ran out of morphine, Karen had to go to the hospital. I went with her and sat by her side until her husband arrived. I leaned down, kissed her cheek, and walked out to give them space. Just before the elevator doors closed, she took her last breath.
She had asked me to do her memorial service. So I went home, wrote it, and returned to speak for her. Her son, just eleven, was there. Her family, her friends. I held the space, led the ceremony, then returned to their home with the others.
In the kitchen, quietly doing dishes, I felt it: Karen’s wings opened wide. Her spirit had taken off on a new adventure. It was unmistakable. I walked straight to her husband and told him. We both felt it. The lightness. The release.
My own tears came later, in private.
🕯️ The Role of the Lightkeeper
The calling of a supersensitive is not to cry at the table of those grieving. They have enough tears.
They need someone who can hold the light—who can feel deeply, but remain centered.
One woman I knew couldn’t sit with victims’ families without breaking down. That’s not what they needed. They needed someone who could listen, witness, and be there without collapsing.
Our tears have a place. But that place often comes after we’ve helped someone else through their storm.
🌊 Sensitivity as Emotional Intelligence
Supersensitive doesn’t mean emotionally fragile. It means emotionally intelligent.
You know when to feel. When to speak. When to hold. When to cry.
It’s the rare ability to tune into another’s suffering and offer stability rather than panic. It’s sitting beside the dying without fear. It’s walking into the hardest conversations with presence.
It’s Service—with a capital S.
🌟 You Are Not Too Sensitive. You Are Wired for This.
You are not “too sensitive.” You are perfectly equipped to see what others miss.
Your tears are not a weakness—they’re a sacred gift, one that flows in its own divine timing.
You are a lightkeeper, a seer, a soul witness.
You are the one who holds steady in the storm.
❓ Reflection for You
When have you been the light in someone else’s storm?
How do you honor your own tears—after you’ve helped others face theirs?
Closing Thought
So if you’ve ever thought, “I’m too sensitive to do this work,” I’d like you to consider this:
Maybe you're not too sensitive.
Maybe you’re perfectly designed to see the invisible.
To carry peace into pain.
To be the quiet strength in someone else’s storm.
After all, what’s more powerful than someone who feels everything—
and still chooses to show up with love?
