on sensitivity, Human Design, and caring.

I'm currently reading Untamed by Glennon Doyle. I know… I’m late to the party, but I’m beginning to understand what everyone was raving about at the end of last year.

At the beginning of the book, she talks about falling in love with a woman, Abby, who visits her parents to let them know that she intends on proposing. Glennon’s mother, with tears in her eyes, gives her permission, because it's the first time that she's seen her daughter come alive since she was 10 years old. Glennon explains that this is the age we learn how to be ‘good girls and real boys’, as society at large really starts to influence us.

It got me thinking about how true it was, because it happened to me at 11 years old, when I finished primary school.

Because suddenly, when we all started secondary school—even though we had only been apart for six weeks—everyone was suddenly too ‘cool’ and too ‘grown up’ for the games we used to play less than two months ago. We went from one very safe environment, where you got along with everyone, to another completely different place that felt very big and scary. Now, everyone was preoccupied with makeup and the opposite sex, and not being very kind to one another. 

This transition period definitely made me feel less alive, especially since I was a highly sensitive child (and let’s face it, I’m still a highly sensitive adult). I often think how I would have enjoyed school a lot more had I not been bullied, which sounds a bit silly because... obviously. But I guess what I mean is: a lot of people don't enjoy school because they don't learn in a way that the traditional education system is set up. Whereas with me, I think this model worked fine. I'm fortunate enough to be quite bright, to like learning, and pick things up pretty quickly.

 But what really beat me down in my secondary school days was the bullying. And whenever I reflect back on it, I know that the kids who bullied me were probably intimidated by my quietness. Something I learned as I've aged into adulthood is that most people are intimidated by people who don’t feel the need to fill every moment with the words, who are content doing their own things and being observers. Secondary school was very hard because I often felt like who I wasn't enough. 

And I found it very hard to come out of my shell, when people were constantly beating me into it. 

There's also another story in Untamed about one of Glennon’s kids, Tish, freaking out after finding out about global warming and that the polar bears were dying as a direct result of it. I found it funny—not because our Earth deteriorating is funny—but because I remembered something similar happening to me as a child.

 Growing up in Brighton, I was always very environmentally conscious, because everyone in Brighton is. We were taught about the planet’s decline, to reduce, reuse, recycle, to save the animals so that we can all continue living on this Earth. But one of my friends (who was very cynical for a 9-year-old) turned to me and said that one day that the Earth is just gonna overheat and implode on itself, and that would be the end of not just animals, but of humanity. Of everything. 

 When she saw the horrified look on my face, she told me not to worry because that wouldn’t happen in our lifetime; only our children's children's children would have to deal with that. I cried anyway, because I didn't want my children's children's children to die in an explosion.

“Words mean more than what is set down on paper.”

—Maya Angelou

I've looked up my Human Design about 3 or 4 times in the last few months because I can never remember what my type is. Human Design didn't really resonate with me at first, and still have trouble 'getting it' at points. This is ironic, considering I'm someone who loves astrology and almost every other personality quiz under the sun.

I think because Human Design comes with this weird diagram of the body, with lots of shapes and colours and tubes, and throws around terminology like: “you have an open sacral centre, and one activated channel between a motor centre and your throat centre” and it loses me because WTF is that all supposed to mean?

Anyway: I'm a Manifestor. And when I found out what that meant in plain English—sans diagrams and centres—apparently I have “an aura that is closed and repelling.” Lucky me???

Manifestors are one of the rarer types, making up only 8-10% of the population. Apparently, they were also historically the warrior kings and queens and religious figureheads that built kingdoms, established laws, and fought to keep control by any means necessary. The Jovian Archive, which is like the main website about Human Design, also explains:

"Manifestors are controlled from the moment that they come into the world because there is a suspicion about them that stems from this aura contact, and this control leads to the theme of anger. Manifestor children with this repelling aura might be tribal, emotional, and collective, so you can imagine how difficult that is. They want to be able to integrate and they can't. It's why there is all this potential anger and tension that builds up in the life of the Manifestor child until it ultimately explodes.”

The pieces kind of fit together when I think back to my childhood. I actually don't remember much from the early years of secondary school (hello, can we say repressed memories), but my mum has mentioned me being very angry around this time, which she found out of character for me at the time.

This all reminded me again of Glennon's story about her daughter, Tish, finding out about the polar bears dying, and this part in particular resonated a lot: 

“Tish is sensitive, and that is her superpower. The opposite of sensitive is not brave. It's not brave to refuse to pay attention, to refuse to notice, to refuse to feel and know and imagine. The opposite of sensitive is insensitive, and that's no badge of honor.”

I don't know, it all feels connected, somehow. That even though I don't really ‘get’ Human Design, I do have the feeling that I'm meant for great things, but also something about me is off-putting to certain groups. And I am incredibly sensitive and care deeply about things that others don't. I'm not saying that this makes me morally superior, but rather that as I get older, I begin to become more comfortable with not fitting into the mold, not feeling completely like everyone else… and that's okay.

I love to observe—that's how I learn. By watching people, by paying attention to the meaning behind their words (sometimes too much attention, but that's a story for another day). And I know that makes people uncomfortable—someone who pays attention. Someone who doesn't fill every moment with words just because they're afraid of awkward silences. But I don't have to compromise who I am to make other people comfortable. Because as the saying goes: “that sounds like a you problem.”