giniesaucedo
As a child, I was picking up on other people’s emotions and fears. I was too young to realize what was going on. I was holding onto things that didn’t belong to me and I didn’t know. I thought it was normal, so I never said anything. Even if I had tried, I’m not sure I could have found the words to describe what I felt.
What I did know is that I felt better when I was alone. (Thankfully Mom trusted me and never pressured me to do things I didn’t want to. She even provided an alibi on the regular. Our dates were all I needed, really.)
People scared me. (Truth is … they still do.)
Today I have a word for it: Empath (Actually, more than one: Empath, Highly Sensitive Person, Intuitive, Projector, etc).
Being from a Hispanic background, I’m not sure we would have gotten to that conclusion on our own. People would label me: sensitive, thin skinned, over protected, introverted, anti-social (ouch! That one hurt a little) etc. Which of course added to the negative feelings leaving me to question myself, wonder what was wrong with me, why I couldn’t be like everyone else. You know… “normal”?
So from a very young age I got really good at building walls. I numbed myself to feelings because they were too overwhelming. I didn’t know how to handle, manage, understand or express them properly. I was never taught how to. I did the next best thing I could think of to help myself feel better. I built really strong, thick, tall walls.
I was safe. If someone was really worthy of getting to know me, they’d have to prove it and find a way through that wall. (There was a loophole: I’d have to trust them enough to just let them in. Very few invitations ever went out.)
The thing is … walls get lonely. I told myself I could do lonely. It didn’t bother me. I was used to it. It was my normal. It was no big deal. And it really was all those things. However…
(To be continued)