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Jordan and I went away with friends this weekend, and on the drive back we listened to a podcast interview with writer, Jia Tolentino.
In the interview, Jia talks about how she’s not really affected by other people’s opinions; about how her boyfriend will sometimes ask her, “Why don’t you care about anything?” and she’ll respond with “Why do you care about everything?”
Jordan and I immediately looked at each other and smirked because she was describing us to a T. (For reference, Jordan is the unaffected Jia, I’m the super-sensitive boyfriend.)
I care about everything. I am sensitive to a fault. An exclamation point instead of a period in a friendly text will almost immediately spiral me into thinking that I’ve committed some unforgivable offense that I will then spend the next several hours thinking hard about until I figure out (and atone for!) exactly what it is that I’ve done.
On the other end of that super healthy spectrum, I also care about wrongs (real or perceived) done to me. One of the astrology Instagrams I follow reminded me today not to “burn a relationship to the ground” because it didn’t happen to be ideal at the moment. And I very sincerely was like, “Damn, that’s good advice. I need to remember that.”
One of the criticisms of personal development — and often, people’s concern with my love for it — is that it’s always focused on being better, on changing constantly, on not letting who you are just be good enough.
As anyone who reads my writing can readily recognize, I self-analyze A LOT. And admittedly, a lot of that analysis either stems from or leads to a feeling of wanting to change.
Often I want to change so that I am a better, healthier, happier human being — all things I think we can (I hope, if you’re reading this) stand behind — but also sometimes I am drawn to changing just so that I am different from how and who I am.
Three and a half decades into my life — and into this constant practice of self-analysis — I feel like I’m pretty self-aware. And so, I often find myself still doing certain things or being a certain way that I don’t find appealing (or think other people will find unappealing), and I have this sort of dialogue with myself where I still do the thing while also simultaneously tearing myself apart for doing it.
I was feeling pretty sensitive recently — and as evidenced by the anecdote above, I don’t mean sensitive in the “saves all the animals and adopts all the children” sort of way, so much as the “has a very thin skin and takes things inordinately (and often unnecessarily) personal” sort of way — and I began internally berating myself for my hurt feelings while still, um, feeling pretty hurt.
That was about as productive as you’d imagine.
This is how it goes with these parts of ourselves; these parts that feel so inherently part of who we are, but also feel simultaneously wrong somehow.
Over the years, I’ve craved time alone, while also telling myself that I’m unfriendly and selfish. I have felt like doing nothing but reading all day, while telling myself that I’m being lazy. I have prioritized a project over cleaning my house, while telling myself that I’m messy (and not good wife material — wut, patriarchy?). I have wanted to be recognized for my contributions to a project or even a conversation, but told myself that I’m being a needy attention-grabber.
These are all parts of me that I’ve been embarrassed about; that I have tried desperately to change or hide — but I’ve realized recently that, unlike some things that I can (and probably should) change, these are all relatively harmless behaviors.
These are just parts of who I am. And trying to change them is both an exercise in futility and ignoring the very real, very valuable parts of these qualities too.
These are just parts of who I am. And trying to change them is both an exercise in futility and ignoring the very real, very valuable parts of these qualities too.
My feelings are often easily hurt, because I’m a sensitive and empathetic person. And because my feelings are easily hurt, I often think very carefully about how my words and actions affect other people.
Sure, I’m not the cleanest person in the world, but I’m very careful to consider the things that are more important to me than having a perfectly-polished home: pursuing creative passions, learning through books and podcasts, and reconnecting with the people I love.
I admittedly (and often embarrassingly) want to be paid attention to, want to be recognized for my contributions at work, to this newsletter, even within my relationship — but that comes from a place of contribution first; of wanting to earn my keep in the spaces I inhabit.
In that same vein, I have a friend who sometimes thinks she needs to apologize every time she shares what’s going on in her life — for fear that she has dominated too much of the conversation talking about herself. But almost every time I’m out with her, she acts as a one-woman PR machine for everything that’s going on in my life: telling everyone we encounter about this newsletter and my work.
My cousin often apologizes when I ask how he’s doing and he shares an honest update that’s less than “fun”. But what I see in him is astounding self-awareness, an incredible authenticity, and the willingness to be vulnerable and honest when so many others would keep things simple and on the surface. That inspires me to do the same.
Jordan thinks he’s disorganized and all over the place, but what I see is that he focuses his time and attention on the things that matter to him (which are most often things that support and shower other people with love): a delicious, home-cooked meal; a thoughtful gift or experience; a dogged attention-to-detail in his work, his complete attention when you need to talk something through.
There is often a superpower hidden in the places where we think we don’t shine; where we think we shouldn’t shine.
There is often a superpower hidden in the places where we think we don’t shine; where we think we shouldn’t shine.
And the thing of it is — I will likely always bristle a little at these parts of myself that feel imperfect, unpolished, unlovable; likely because there is some of that in all of them.
But there is so much goodness, so much power in these places where we don’t actually need to be better; where we can (and should) just allow ourselves to be exactly who we are.
I love personal growth. I will always look at the ways in which my behavior is harmful to or simply not serving myself and others — and look for ways to improve, to show up as a healthier and happier human in my life. I think we all should.
But I also believe that I can (and should) recognize and honor when it’s okay to be exactly who I am; to look at the parts of me that don’t seem so perfect and find the shiny superpower in them instead.
I think you can (and should) too.
A version of this essay was first published on February 9, 2020.
Idea: If there was a “superpower” in that part of yourself you’re most sensitive to; that part of yourself you sometimes feels like you need to hide — what might it be? What are all of the good attributes that come with the parts of yourself you might’ve made “bad” or wrong?
Anecdote: This is my first week back home after a trip to Nashville to visit my brother and his fiancée for his birthday, immediately followed by a whirlwind trip to Miami for work. I had so much fun in Nashville — I don’t get to spend quality time with my brother often and it was really special to be part of his day-to-day life and explore a new (to me!) city with him. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to enjoy as much of Miami — a city I’d also never visited — because I spent my 48 hours there sick with something I caught at the tail-end of my Nashville trip. I definitely felt grateful for the time away regardless, and I’m happy to be home this week too, finally feeling better and settling back into my usual routine. I also read two books while I was traveling — one in particular that I LOVED and can’t stop thinking about. I’ll share more in And Also! | Extras later this month 🤓
Inspiration: “We think facing our demons is reliving some traumatic event or discovering we’re worthless. But it is just abiding with the uneasy, disquieting sensation of nowhere to run and finding that we don’t die; we don’t collapse. In fact, we feel profound relief and freedom.” - Pema Chödrön
Always the right day for Pema. 🧡