The quiet strength of sensitivity
There’s still time to join my 6-Week Writing Series for Women, starting tonight!
I've always been sensitive, quiet, and tender—traits I once saw as weaknesses, equating them with unworthiness.
Drawn to sad love songs, broken relationships, and stories of longing, I found comfort in the heartache of Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham's music and the unresolved tension between Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara.
Looking back, I realize these stories reflected my own struggles—my longing for connection, for something deeper. Over time, I understood what my mother meant by calling me an "old soul."
I had stayed in shallow waters, afraid to dive deeper, until I learned that I thrive in the deep currents where light and shadow intertwine. There, beneath the surface, I found my true self.
As I embraced my sensitivity, I realized that what I once saw as a weakness was, in fact, a strength. In a world that's loud and distracted, my quietness has become a tool for understanding the complexities of love, loss, joy, and pain.
Life, I’ve learned, is made of both light and dark, and by accepting both, I've deepened my compassion for myself and others. Grief, far from something to avoid, enriches our experience of love and connection.
Though we can't control all that life gives us, listening to the quiet wisdom within helps us shed judgment and welcome all seasons of life.
Each moment—good or bad—shapes us, giving us depth and purpose. By embracing sorrow, we connect with our own pain and the suffering of others, which broadens our perspective on the preciousness of time and the richness of existence.
I recently read that one woman's secret to happiness was crying every day. I’ve come to believe that allowing sorrow to touch us deeply makes room for love, peace, and joy to fill the spaces within.
This truth was clearer when I watched Miss Scarlet and The Duke. When The Duke left Miss Scarlet at the end of season 5, I felt an unexpected ache. I cried not only for the characters but for the loss of a winter companion and the end of a captivating character.
As I reflected, I realized my tears weren’t just for romantic love—they were for connection. The grief unearthed the truths of my marriage’s end and my ongoing search for lasting love, but also revealed a deeper realization: it’s not just about romance, but about belonging and self-love.
“Once longing is awakened within the heart it is the most direct way Home. Like a magnet, it draws us deep within our own heart where we are made whole and transformed.”
Heartbreak and longing, expressed through stories and music, have helped me face the rawest parts of myself. In embracing the ache, I’ve discovered that the love I seek has always been inside me—a reminder of the belonging I’ve always had.
I’m learning that love isn’t something external to be found, but a force within us, waiting to be discovered. Longing has shown me that the depth of our heartache is tied to our capacity for love. Loss and love are two sides of the same coin, and by embracing both, I open myself to the fullness of life’s experiences.
Silent Reflections, Deep Connections
In moments of silence or solitude, what truths or insights have you discovered about yourself? How has listening to that quiet wisdom shaped your decisions?
Reflect on a song, artist, or album that has helped you process difficult emotions or experiences. How did it speak to your inner world during a challenging time?
Write about how grief has enhanced your ability to love, whether through personal loss, a breakup, or the end of an important chapter. How has it made you more compassionate?
6-week Grief Writing Series for Women
There's still time to join! I’m offering a 6-week grief writing circle for women, starting tonight, February 20th, online. You can register and learn more about this transformative practice here:
