Normally, my inherent sense of timing keeps me from tipping off my thesis in the title of the article, but this time, it seemed appropriate. And we will get to the subject of sensitivity versus choice in a moment, but first, a few threads of background before we weave a fuller tapestry.
Sensitivity (of the emotional sort, the kind we are talking about when someone says “That person is so sensitive!), has been an issue for me my entire life.
I have always been the sensitive sort. I feel things deeply, I have a high degree of empathy, I react strongly to the emotional tone of a situation. I worry about people I care about. I love children and animals. I am, in the modern way, a sensitive guy.
And for a long time, when I think about how sensitive I am, despite occasionally wishing I could dial it back a bit when I am very upset about something nobody else would even care about, I have always come back to the conclusion that while sometimes being so sensitive brings me great pain, I choose to remain this way because that sensitivity is a vital part of me, and I value the good it brings me in terms of understanding, sympathy, insight, and moral grounding too much to imagine letting it go.
To lose this kind of sensitivity once you have had it would be like losing a sense, and few people would pluck out their eyes simply to avoid seeing things they do not like.
But that brings us to the central question : am I truly choosing to remain sensitive? Is it a choice at all? Have I truly been nobly defending my sensitivity from the temptations of callousness, jadedness, elitism, disdain, and disgust all these years? Or have I simply put a brave face on the inevitable?
Would I remain as sensitive as I am no matter what? Maybe it is truly a fundamental part of my psyche, and no more disposable than my intellectualism or love of reading. When something runs that deep, you can express it or suppress it, but it will always be there. So is this really a choice?
And if it is, truly, a choice, what are the ethical implications of that choice? Does being so sensitive make me a better person? It certainly seems that way, given what I see of the actions of the callous and malicious. But it could be argued that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing, and that it is my extraordinarily out of control emotional sensitivity that has led to my depression, isolation, social anxiety, and other mental health issues.
So surely there is some sort of limit to how much sensitivity can be considered a good thing. Keen senses can be a boon, but not if it turns you into a resident of the House of Usher.
And a fine sense of touch might make you a good safecracker, but if you are going to do some work in the garden, you are going to put some heavy gloves on precisely to protect those sensitive hands.
So it is clear to me that too much emotional sensitivity can be not just bad, but crippling. I can see that I would be a better person, both in terms of my own well-being and my ability to contribute and help others with theirs, if I was not quite so sensitive.
Or at least if I learned to somehow manage my sensitivity, instead of having it seemingly dialed to the max all the time.
So we wend our way back to the central question : am I somehow choosing to be as sensitive as I am? Could I choose to be a little less sensitive, just enough of a reduction to put it in the “reasonable and useful” category instead of the “crippling and debilitating” one?
It is a tricky question to contemplate about oneself because one’s degree of emotional sensitivity is such an integral part of one’s mentation that it is very difficult to imagine being any other way.
Yet no reasonable and moderate person like myself can maintain an absolutist position like “more sensitivity is always better”. Clearly it is not. So how does a person like me find the balanced and reasonable point at which it is morally acceptable to, well, stop caring?
Sense of self comes into play here. Excessive sensitivity plus poor sense of self equals great difficulty in establishing boundaries between what pertains to the self and what is other people’s business. The allure of concentrating on others as a distraction from one’s own tired and battered self also plays a prominent role here.
It is so much easier to worry about others! But then one can’t very well claim not to know why one’s own problems keep getting worse.
Nevertheless, clearly a strong sense of self is a necessary bulwark against the tempest tossed storms of sensitivity. Clear lines between “what is my emotions” and “what (I imagine) is other people’s emotions” have to be drawn and maintained. Only then can you say “this is not my stuff, it’s someone else’s” and keep the strong emotions (or what you think they are)of others from overwhelming you.
Questioning the veracity of your perceptions is also another good first step. When the lines between imagination, perception, empathy, and inner life are blurred by poor sense of self, the inner world can become an endless echo chamber, amplifying and distorting our sense of what is truly going out beyond all recognition. Do those people really hate you, or is that just your own self-loathing reflecting back at you? Do you truly not know why you suddenly feel like crying, or are you just afraid to face it?
Try asking people what they really think. It won’t be easy, and will take courage, but you may find that the answers surprise you in a delightful way.
You may find, in fact, that people like you a lot more than you thought they did, and all those emotions that beat you down come from you, not that cold cruel world out there.