Life, Love, Long Hair, Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth, and other mysteries

All this and more, from a semi-Serbian, slightly sane, former editor for physicians and surgeons, who is the mother of seven kids.

Sunday, 30 December 2012

They Who Feel Too Much

They feel "too much".

They have the power to love deeply, to understand the plight of those they adore, to heal the heartache of whoever reaches out to them.

If they give you their heart, carry it carefully.  If you drop it, you shatter it like glass.  The pieces, sparkling like moonlit teardrops on a broken face, are hard to fit back together.

When they feel hope is lost, they die some more.

Stop all the music.  Songs intensify the pain.

Let the death march begin. 

They don't "get over" being harmed.  It piles up inside, silently - where it cannot be seen, sometimes hidden even from their own sight.

A new lock is added to the door of their heart.

Woe unto those who offend one of these tender beings:  not because the tender beings wish pain upon them, but because of the ways of reaping and sowing.

I pray the torments of the offenders will end when they make things right with the ones they have harmed, and that the broken hearts will somehow be mended by the miracle of love.

 Some related posts:


  1. thank you for sharing is written as one writes a love letter... in its transparency and feeling

  2. btw... the robot detector thingy let me type in the letters this time :)

  3. Sitting in a courtroom as an observer not long ago, I watched and listened as case after case came before the bench. I watched and heard hopes and dreams fail to be aroused, watched and heard hopes and dreams slaughtered, and wondered where the cavalry of saviors might be.

    No one came to save. These were not my family or even friends. They were strangers, but I teared up and had to leave. I wanted to shout, "God! No! Your children need both of you! You need your children!" No one else seemed the least bit moved.

    My own hopes and dreams had once been smeared across a family court floor. For eight years, I wondered why no one rushed to the rescue.

    Sitting there on the front row as an observer just two months ago, and then collecting myself outside with a cigar and a cold drink, I had my answer: I am alive, and most are not.

    I am glad you are alive, too, Steeny Lou.

    1. I am moved to tears by all of this. All of it.

  4. Thank you for this SL, all my life ppl have treated the fact that I feel so deeply like a defect. It's not. I know that now.

    Thank you for commenting on my blog! (From comment club)

  5. (comment club)
    yup That's me eventually we simply strip ourselves of any emotions so that we can no longer be hurt.

    1. That is so sad, Bipolar Summer. Perhaps you can relate to another of my blog entries, here:

  6. Its hard to be so tenderhearted, sometimes I feel like a snail without its shell, way too soft and vulnerable. I find it especially hard being so shy because I have a hard time expressing myself in front of others and people don't realize how much I'm hurting.

    Thank you for posting this, it was really validating for me.


  7. How incredibly beautiful...and how very true. It takes an HSP to understand another HSP because the outside world certainly doesn't.


Talk to me - please.