Oh, Brigitte! I know you worked so hard on this and I am so glad you did. This is such a gift to the world. Thank you for sharing it. So many beautiful parts:
"The wide open flank of a child born porous. I translated the shockwaves of my emotions into the need to lock myself up in some deep well, a safe place to study how others moved through the world with seeming ease. Their words felt grown up and fluent, mine reluctant, only forming."
I now have a new favorite piece of your writing ◡̈
You guys are the best, and this essay wouldn’t exist without your encouragement and feedback along the way. So happy you even like it best (…while I was having second thoughts again haha) 💛
Thank you for laying yourself bare and sharing your beautiful insides with us. The world needs you living fully, in integrity, expressing your love as a service to the world. ❤️
Your writing reminds me of William Stafford’s poem:
I think I said "wow" out loud half a dozen times while reading this. Re-posted it. More should see this. Too much gold to quote it all back. On the repost I said, "If you’ve ever felt as though your deepest truth and expression are locked up inside, there’s more than hope, and Brigitte shares her journey with spectacular eloquence and uniqueness." So well done on this re-write. Blown away by how your dedication to this paid off.
Brigitte, I'm so glad you allowed yourself to share your vulnerable self with all of us-- your readers far and wide. For I think so many other sensitive souls can relate to your words... and those of us who were perhaps not so tuned in can better understand our family and friends who are. Thank you for taking us on your journey.
What also strikes me is this is the journey we all go on... hiding parts of ourself we felt were unacceptable, pushing them into shadows deep, and finally seeing they were our own special gift all along. Beautiful writing here:
"This thing – this dreaded sensitivity – it arrived in waves. Gently, ongoing, or sudden and crushing, laying a heavy blanket of shame onto my heart. It was blinding me, disorienting me, obstructing clear thinking, making me wonder: How can I survive this much feeling? ...
"In this way, the shadow I had tried to lock away hadn’t only guarded me, but had also been guarding something for me.The lock and key were the same: my own magic of seeing feelingly. "
Thank you, this means so much, Linda. I hope that some people may recognize something universal from the personal in this article, or the other way around.
And…I just went to check if Comfort Zone was already published and just saw it is (sorry I didn’t catch this earlier!) ✨
when I was a kid, I found that others spoke for me in similar ways "she's really sensitive"...when I didn't have the words for myself. But it wasn't that I didn't have the words, it was that it just took me longer to form the words. As a sensitive soul, it takes me longer to process through all the feels to figure out in a coherent way what I want to say, and people lose patience. They move on in their conversation and before I can pipe in, they are three subjects ahead of me.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and leave this lovely comment, Teri. Another reason why I like writing so much: this way of turning some thoughts and feelings into (the right) words ✨
Brigette, this is special. The simplicity of that opening line is universal for all of us. Parents, family members insert and apply descriptions before we have our own words. And so often, elders continue to do that long past the point they need to.
Also impressive the way you made a deep, personal reflection like this so reachable for the reader. That is a tremendous achievement. I’ve only recently come to realize the way we view and talk to ourselves is often much closer to the way we view sensitivities or attributes in others, beyond intention or awareness. If we cannot find the good, or superpower, in those qualities in ourselves, it’s very hard (exhausting!) trying to do that in others.
I’ll think about this one for awhile. Grateful I got to see the progression. Thanks for sharing!
Matt, thank you so much for this wonderful (and insightful!) comment. Your support helped me to get this put together, and I‘m so glad it resonates and reflects a part of your experience as well.
Well done Brigitte! What a wonderful piece so eloquently describing something many of us can relate to. And yet something very profound in "And underneath it all, there was something beckoning. Now I know that this something was my future self whispering, subtly pulling me toward my wholeness and own adventures."
…as the kids might harp this was gorgeous (or gorge if you are feeling slangy)…the precision and delicateness of how it moved felt like rain…i love the idea of our emotional parts having life and wondered about how deeply locked or damaged some of my me’s are…this reminds me to unlock and to nurture…
Oh, Brigitte! I know you worked so hard on this and I am so glad you did. This is such a gift to the world. Thank you for sharing it. So many beautiful parts:
"The wide open flank of a child born porous. I translated the shockwaves of my emotions into the need to lock myself up in some deep well, a safe place to study how others moved through the world with seeming ease. Their words felt grown up and fluent, mine reluctant, only forming."
I now have a new favorite piece of your writing ◡̈
You guys are the best, and this essay wouldn’t exist without your encouragement and feedback along the way. So happy you even like it best (…while I was having second thoughts again haha) 💛
me too!! 100%
Good bless you and your heart Brigette.
Thank you for laying yourself bare and sharing your beautiful insides with us. The world needs you living fully, in integrity, expressing your love as a service to the world. ❤️
Your writing reminds me of William Stafford’s poem:
The Way It Is
There’s a thread you follow.
It goes among things that change.
But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.
I’m glad to know you!
Thank you so much, James. Seems a bit (too?) vulnerable but here goes…
What a beautiful poem – and I feel fortunate to know You too!
I think I said "wow" out loud half a dozen times while reading this. Re-posted it. More should see this. Too much gold to quote it all back. On the repost I said, "If you’ve ever felt as though your deepest truth and expression are locked up inside, there’s more than hope, and Brigitte shares her journey with spectacular eloquence and uniqueness." So well done on this re-write. Blown away by how your dedication to this paid off.
Brigitte, I'm so glad you allowed yourself to share your vulnerable self with all of us-- your readers far and wide. For I think so many other sensitive souls can relate to your words... and those of us who were perhaps not so tuned in can better understand our family and friends who are. Thank you for taking us on your journey.
What also strikes me is this is the journey we all go on... hiding parts of ourself we felt were unacceptable, pushing them into shadows deep, and finally seeing they were our own special gift all along. Beautiful writing here:
"This thing – this dreaded sensitivity – it arrived in waves. Gently, ongoing, or sudden and crushing, laying a heavy blanket of shame onto my heart. It was blinding me, disorienting me, obstructing clear thinking, making me wonder: How can I survive this much feeling? ...
"In this way, the shadow I had tried to lock away hadn’t only guarded me, but had also been guarding something for me.The lock and key were the same: my own magic of seeing feelingly. "
Thank you, this means so much, Linda. I hope that some people may recognize something universal from the personal in this article, or the other way around.
And…I just went to check if Comfort Zone was already published and just saw it is (sorry I didn’t catch this earlier!) ✨
when I was a kid, I found that others spoke for me in similar ways "she's really sensitive"...when I didn't have the words for myself. But it wasn't that I didn't have the words, it was that it just took me longer to form the words. As a sensitive soul, it takes me longer to process through all the feels to figure out in a coherent way what I want to say, and people lose patience. They move on in their conversation and before I can pipe in, they are three subjects ahead of me.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and leave this lovely comment, Teri. Another reason why I like writing so much: this way of turning some thoughts and feelings into (the right) words ✨
Fabulous, Brigitte! And fascinating to see how you developed this from your earlier drafts. It works so well.
Thank you so much, Simon. Your input really helped a lot along the way in order to dig deeper.
Brigette, this is special. The simplicity of that opening line is universal for all of us. Parents, family members insert and apply descriptions before we have our own words. And so often, elders continue to do that long past the point they need to.
Also impressive the way you made a deep, personal reflection like this so reachable for the reader. That is a tremendous achievement. I’ve only recently come to realize the way we view and talk to ourselves is often much closer to the way we view sensitivities or attributes in others, beyond intention or awareness. If we cannot find the good, or superpower, in those qualities in ourselves, it’s very hard (exhausting!) trying to do that in others.
I’ll think about this one for awhile. Grateful I got to see the progression. Thanks for sharing!
Matt, thank you so much for this wonderful (and insightful!) comment. Your support helped me to get this put together, and I‘m so glad it resonates and reflects a part of your experience as well.
Dayyyyyyym this is good Brigitte!
🤪🙏
Well done Brigitte! What a wonderful piece so eloquently describing something many of us can relate to. And yet something very profound in "And underneath it all, there was something beckoning. Now I know that this something was my future self whispering, subtly pulling me toward my wholeness and own adventures."
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, Alan!
…as the kids might harp this was gorgeous (or gorge if you are feeling slangy)…the precision and delicateness of how it moved felt like rain…i love the idea of our emotional parts having life and wondered about how deeply locked or damaged some of my me’s are…this reminds me to unlock and to nurture…
That this may have landed like rain on "your me‘s" is special to me. Unlock and nurture them & turn them to the light! ✨ Merci.
So lovely. Thank you sharing.
Dave, thank YOU so much!!!
Have you read 'Quiet', by Susan Cain? It's about this very thing.
Of course :) And thank you Donal!
Brigitte, this is even more powerful, more revealing, more touching, more achingly tender the second time I read this. What a wonderful essay!
Larry, this means a ton of bricks…no, hearts! Thank you, I appreciate your support so much.