Growing Up with Hugh Hefner and Playboy

News of Hugh Hefner’s passing this week has brought me back to a time in my childhood I had long forgotten. A time when sex, and bodies, and love started to dominate my thoughts and I was no longer that carefree child but a confused teenager trying to understand my sexuality.

Hugh Hefner and his controversial and prolific media empire played a big part in that. I don’t think there is a person who hasn’t been shaped in some way by his work, but it’s important to examine how we have been shaped and how we might do more and do better going forward.

Growing up my father kept crates of Playboys around.  He had Penthouse, and Hustler, and more, and worse, lying around too, but it was the Playboy’s I flipped through most days after school, trying to take in all the pictures and commit them to memory before he was due to return home from work.

He never tried to hide them, and he never told me not to look at them. That was his parenting style, there were no rules until I got caught, and then I was in trouble, and there was a new rule.

Once I flipped through one while eating a bag of Cheetos as my after-school snake. At 4:30 I returned the magazine to its place in the pile and moved on with the rest of my evening. Sometime later, I can remember anymore how many hours or days passed, he called me to the living room and pointed to my little orange fingerprints he’d found marking the lower outside corner of each page and asked me bluntly if I’d been reading them.

I denied it, of course. This happened during my “lying years” when I never admitted to anything, no matter the evidence presented. He asked me again, and I denied it again, and he only stared at me for a long time and sent me to my room. My father still made no effort to hide his magazines, and neither of us ever mentioned the incident again.

I’ve only told that story to a few close friends because I’ve been a little ashamed of it. Not because I was looking at those magazines. I’m ashamed because my father might have gotten the wrong idea about why I was looking at them.

“Sex is the driving force on the planet. We should embrace it, not see it as the enemy.”

—Hugh Hefner

See, I wasn’t flipping through those pictures because they excited me. I was a teenager, and I was attracted to other teenagers, and while the men and women gracing Playboy’s pages were certainly attractive, they were also old. What playboy was for me was a kind of education, and compared to the sources I’d had back then, it was the best I could get.I learned what sex could be. I saw it could be enjoyable, exciting, and, well, sexy.

I never got a proper “talk” from my parents. They seemed to just understand that one day I knew what sex was, but they never asked where I had learned what I knew, and they never offered to clarify anything. The Sex Education class that school taught was nothing but the mechanics of sex. They talked about it the way you explain to a toddler how using the “big kid potty” works. You do it when you are old enough to handle it. You do it behind closed doors. You wash your hands after doing it, and you do not talk about it in mixed company. It’s something we all do, but it’s dirty.

Playboy taught me that sex isn’t dirty, and people aren’t dirty for wanting it, thinking about it, or doing it. It’s natural. It’s something people like to do, and if you do it the way that works for you, with someone, or maybe even someones, that you like and that like what you like, you might like doing it too.

Playboy taught me that sex isn’t something you have to hide either. You can talk about it, share stories, share knowledge! And it taught me that no matter what you are into, there are plenty of other people who are into that too. Not much is out of the norm anymore, and no one needs to feel weird or different.

The women in Playboy seemed classy, cool, and in control of what was happening to them. Whether they were or not, I never got any other idea. The men never looked mean or angry, and they women looked eager to engage. Other porn I’d seen, especially videos played at friends houses when their parents were at work, the women were either bored or overdoing it to fool the viewer. They were objects. They were there to give, and no one cared how they felt about it. Those videos gave me a dirty feeling, like I needed to wash my hands after.

But when I flipped through those Playboys memorizing those details it was because this was the kind of sex I wanted to have one day. I wanted to remember how it was done. I wanted to know what I needed to do to feel classy, cool, and in control when it was my time to grow up and do it too.

As much as I Playboy may have helped me understand sex and sexuality, Hugh Hefner’s use of women and sex to get rich is a messy moral predicament. There’s no doubt of his immense contribution to pop culture and the sexual revolution. Playboy wasn’t just sexy pictures and “I never thought it would happen to me” letters. The articles really were groundbreaking and informative, and some of the best interviews include Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Fidel Castro, Miles Davis, John Lennon, and many, many more.

His work for LGBTQ and abortion rights helped move this country forward and his belief that women own their sexuality, embrace and express it, shaped me, and I am willing to bet, many other women. He changed the world forever, and I am grateful for his work and his voice, but there are issues too, big issues. I can be grateful for the man, and still, find his methods and his media problematic. It’s sex, after all, and sex is never simple.

I’ve never heard that Hugh treated the women in his employment badly, but his mansion, and all the women, and the sacred place he held in everyone’s hearts and minds felt cult-like and creepy. For the women around him, there was clearly a standard to met and expectations to fulfill. There was an illusion to keep up one that so we were all so eager to be a part of we never really questioned it. Its only been after the news of his death that even I have looked back and wondered if the man and his work were really such a positive force for everyone?

What we failed to see was that in his glamorous world of fantasy, men were men, and women no matter how well they were treated, were still only valued by the pleasure they could bring. In Hugh’s world, masculinity still reigned supreme. Women enjoyed only an illusion of control. They were encouraged to embrace their sexuality, to own and express it, to the benefit of the male eye and libido.

Hugh Hefner, to me, was the kind of man who realizes slut shaming results in less sex for men and so encourages the women around him to be free to get what he wants. It’s manipulation instead of force. I can’t be sure that was his intention, but I can be sure that is the message many men got.

So, progress was made but some of that progress was just dressing up old ideas and ways of seeing gender and sexuality in new exciting clothes. It’s important to be clear and honest about that. One man can’t have changed the world all by himself, he was no God despite the pedestal he was placed on. Recognizing his failures is not a denial of his greatness. It’s the best way we can honor him, by doing better.

Hugh was a man, a big, important, influential, historical man, but he was a man. A man of privilege and ignorance. A man made of half good intentions and half bad methods, just like the rest of us. I can see all of that, but there is also something else too. Something more personal, outside of good and bad. It’s in the ways Hugh and his magazine touched our own private lives and shaped our private pleasures. He shined a light into the dark corners and showed us, or at least me, that there’s was nothing dirty in those corners after all.

Just good clean fun to be had by all.

“In my own words, I played some significant part in changing the social-sexual values of our time. I had a lot of fun in the process.”

— Hugh Hefner

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Featured image is by Mark Vessey

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Protect Drunk Girls

Women have always been regarded as the sole source of all their suffering, and no one more than the drunk girl.

In her stumbling and fumbling, through her tears, and in spite of her laughter, we know her to be immoral and gross. We know that whatever should befall her on this “ladies night,” this “birthday celebration,” this “newly single,” “newly engaged,” “newly employed” or “just glad the week is over” night, is exactly what she deserves.

Can you imagine, having done no legal or moral wrong, but upon having bad things happen any way you are now made to be the villain in your own trauma?

This is the great shame of society, among which there are many more, but what do we do? Do we seek to rectify, to apologize, or to make the next time right? No, we persist in the belief that a woman looking for fun finds what she seeks and a woman without reserve and modesty gets what she needs I suppose. It’s easier that way, to go on as we have and let the harmed fade away, or be put away by force if need be. The best among us try, but even in us, the way we find is wrong.

“Where are the men!”, we cry, “to keep us surrounded and safe?”

Where are the women I say! To keep us safe but more than that to keep us sure of our right to live, and drink, and be merry. Why can’t we be loud and a little too much from time to time without humiliation and pain? Where are the women to tell us it is okay? Where are the women who would see us safely home? Where are the women who would cry out to the men of their sin instead of always inventing and enforcing new ones for us all to suffer under?

Summer is coming, with warm night, open rooftops, and cold drinks and signs screaming “ladies drink free ’til midnight.” Drunk girls will be let loose in the world, and I feel for them knowing many won’t make it through what should be a time of joy but many will come through changed forever and with that will come shame and blame because no one will protect them.

If you see a pedestrian on the ground, hurt, bleeding, not breathing, do you help them? Or do you assume that they brought their injuries on themselves and leave them? Do you feel annoyed at the inconvenience, huff, and leave them to their fate?

Imagine you saw an intoxicated person getting into the driver seat of a car, would you say something? Would you call a cab or summon an Uber from your phone? Whatever you would do, I bet you know what you should do. If you saw a drunk woman walking alone on the street would you do the same? If you saw her surrounded by a group of men would you walk away?

Too often I have been out with others who have lost track of their friends or allowed them to leave with strange men. I try to speak up but all I hear is so and so is going to do what they want, and I’ve felt powerless.

I’ve even, I’ll admit, fallen into the trap of judging, ridiculing, and turning a blind eye out of annoyance and frustration. It’s hard to keep caring after you warn them and warn them, and still, they don’t listen, but I have to wonder about the consequences. I wonder how much of the world’s suffering do I carry because I didn’t protect a woman in need?

Many of us have made the same mistake. We’ve had too much, done too much, and ended up in dangerous situations. Some of us walked away unscathed? Did we deserve a consequence? Did we deserve to be groped and raped? Could you look yourself in the mirror, remember a time when you went out of a wild night with a friend, and tell yourself you deserved the same as the countless women you’ve seen in the news who are now missing, assaulted, or dead?

Of course not. You made a mistake, or maybe it wasn’t a mistake at all, and that is yet another idea we have to rid ourselves of too. I hope when it happened to you had someone to look after you. I hope you know how lucky you were.

But I want the world to change. I want all women to feel protected, and I want all women to protect drunk girls at all cost. From those who would take advantage of them, hurt them, or abandon them.

Drinking or not, every woman is worthy of care and comfort. Drinking or not, we all want the same thing, some time to let loose and feel a part of a place and time where there is only joy and love. There is no sin, no shouldn’t have, there is only the safest way, and we all have to help each other to that.

Protect carefree girls. Protect girls who do too much and take it too far. Protect young girls who are learning their limits and those of the world. Protect girls trying to have the night of their lives. Protect girls having a bad night too.

In a perfect world, you would never have to worry but this world is far from that, and something else must be done. We can appeal to the men. Love us, respect us, protect us, some will and some won’t but how can you know the difference? And anyway it is hard to trust the same ones who ridicule and abuse you.

I say we look to ourselves, to women, all women, to have the understanding and the courage to lead the way to safety, love, and a sense of freedom. Help your sisters find nights of fun and release without fear, or guilt, or pain.

Protect drunk girls, wherever you go, the night of and every night after, for as long as they need you.

#protectdrunkgirls #sharpie #bathroom #advice #paradigmshift #bethechange #smashthepatriarchy

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Ask For Help, and Keep on Asking Until You Get It

Hello, dear readers and happy Monday! I know I know, Mondays aren’t happy. Mondays are for being tired, and grouchy, and remembering all the things you don’t like about your life. Mondays are for wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed and escaping the world.

But, let’s try something different. Let’s imagine that Mondays are the days when we get to start all over again. Let’s imagine all the bad things that happened last week don’t matter anymore and that we’ve been given a second chance to do it all again, and this time, we might even get it right.

From now on Monday’s are for making the changes we want to see in ourselves, and for thinking about the changes we want to see in the world. Monday’s are our new favorite days!

As for me, this Monday is a bit stressful, but I am proud of myself for keeping a cool head. My driver showed up half an hour late, which means not only were we late picking up our kids, and the parent was mad, but everything else I had to do today has been pushed back too. I am doing my best to catch up, but I fear it may be a lost cause. I’ll be late to everything until lunch.

“It’s never overreacting to ask for what you want and need.”

— Amy Poehler

My childhood wasn’t a particularly good one, and I have grown into an adult who struggles with depression and anxiety, and more specifically issues with boundaries, trust, and relationships of all kinds.

I do not like to be close to people, emotionally or physically. I fear there is always an ulterior motive, even with friends and family. I have a perpetually feeling of embarrassment and confusion around social norms and etiquette. I feel ashamed and afraid most of the time, and I am sad nearly all of the time. I suffer from panic attacks and bouts of depression, flashing rage, and uncontrollable crying. In my own mind, I am worthless, weak, ugly, dirty, and pathetic. I am a failure and a waste of space.

Some days I feel like I am swimming upstream and close to drowning. Some days just getting out of bed, and putting one foot in front of the other is the very best I can do.

There have been days where I wondered whether it might be better for everyone if I were to never wake up again.

I’ve had some therapy, but for most of my life I couldn’t afford it, so I’ve taken the unsure and unstable route of “self-help.” I have improved a lot through self-awareness, honesty, and forgiveness. I still think all the things I always have, but now I recognize them for what they are, symptoms of my past.

 

Getting there has been a lot of hard work, but it all started with one very small, but very big, step. Simply telling myself, and everyone around me, exactly what I needed.

I may need to be heard, be hugged, or be left alone. I may need to hear that I am understood, forgiven, and loved. Maybe need to be told what I am feeling is okay and I may need to be given the space to feel it. Maybe I need someone to hold my hand. I might need to gather my thoughts, to get away, to figure out how I feel. I might need to feel needed. I might just need food, medication, or water.

I might need help, and that is okay.

We live in a society that tells us to be strong we must hold our own. We are told that needed help is weakness and asking for help is something to feel shame for. It is so deeply a part of who we are now, especially as Americans, that I still have trouble asking for help and I still have thought that those who asked were weak. It’s a lesson I have to keep learning, and I wish more of us were learning it too.

Asking for help is not a sign of weakness, but one of strength. You have found it in yourself to reach out toward another human being and trust them to hear you and help you. It’s scary, but it doesn’t have to be. Each of us would love to help a friend who needed us and each of us would love to be helped too. To feel needed, understood, and cared for are all feelings we are looking for, no matter what our mental health status. We crave that closeness, and long to be that vulnerable.

Being open about my needs, and asking for help, helped me build relationships and learn to trust. It helped me recognize the ways I was hurting myself by not getting what I needed and allowed others to feel close to me and show their love. It gave me a chance to feel in control of my mental state. It gave me the chance to learn to cope and to heal. Asking for help opened to door for me to be able to do everything else I needed to do to get to where I am: happier, healthier, and functioning. I could never have made it this far with the help of others. None of us can.

This week, tell yourself, and a few people you trust, what you need.

There is a lot more to healing and coping with mental illness, but it all starts with the act of openness and asking. Ask for help, ask for what you need, and keep on asking until you get it, and then ask again whenever the need arises. Offer help when you can and let everyone you know hear that it is okay to do the same.

The world needs so much more of that.

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Look After One Another

Hello, dear readers and happy Monday! I know I know, Mondays aren’t happy. Mondays are for being tired, and grouchy, and remembering all the things you don’t like about your life. Mondays are for wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed and escaping the world.

But, let’s try something different. Let’s imagine that Mondays are the days when we get to start all over again. Let’s imagine all the bad things that happened last week don’t matter anymore and that we’ve been given a second chance to do it all again, and this time, we might even get it right.

From now on Monday’s are for making the changes we want to see in ourselves, and for thinking about the changes we want to see in the world. Monday’s are our new favorite days!

As for me, this Monday is off to a better than usual start. I managed to wake up on time and get ready without having to rush. For some reason, I didn’t require the usual mental lectures and accosting I normally inflict upon myself. I just did what needed to be done. I’m hoping the rest of the week will be just as smooth.

“Anyone who cares about you has to realize that you need a little looking after, nothing else really matters.”

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

A few weeks ago we received terrible news. One of our drivers was found dead in her home. The cause was determined to be Pulmonary Embolism or blood clots in her lungs. I didn’t know her very well, but the news saddened me. She had not shown up to work for two mornings before our staff decided to do a “welfare check” on her. I know it wouldn’t have saved her, but I don’t think it should have taken that long for someone to realize something was wrong.

It’s sad that she was so alone. I thought about how many people out there could be hurt or dying, and no one knew. I am lucky; I live with someone. Someone who makes sure I am okay throughout the day, every day, but what if I didn’t? I realized that if it weren’t for my girlfriend, it might be days before anyone realized something was wrong with me.

I don’t call people often and if they call me and I don’t answer they don’t think that’s out of the ordinary at all. They I am just doing what always do, avoiding people, or maybe I’m sleeping, or my phone is in another room. Unanswered texts are normal as well. I like to talk to people when I’m ready. I’m sure we all know someone like that.

What if something happened to them? How long until you knew?

It was not like this woman not to show up to work. Not only that but we work split shifts, which means we check in between two and three times a day. By the midday or the afternoon, when she didn’t show up for the second time, someone should have tried to find out what happened to her.

I understand that your boss is not your keeper, but should they be? For many people, their coworkers are the people they see more that family and sometimes even spouses. For some people, their job is the only place they go regularly and the only place they might be missed from.

So, this week I think we should all think about what our responsibilities are to the people we see every day. What would you do if one day they stopped showing up? Would you shrug your shoulders and make jokes? Or would you do something about it? What would you do?

I have a friend I know lives alone. When she is planning on missing a day she tries to let me know and days she isn’t here, and I didn’t know about it in advance, I text her and make sure she is ok. I check with our office to see if she may have called in or if she had previously planned to be out. I ask other people she talks to if they’ve heard from her. I make sure I know she is okay.

We shouldn’t let days go by before we notice someone is missing or before we question whether something might be wrong.

This week, find someone to be responsible for. The person who works at the desk next to you. The coworker you see on your smoke break. The one who you’ve spoken to a few times but haven’t quite crossed over into friendship with. Talk to them and find out if they live alone and if they need someone to check in on them should they not show up.

I know it sounds weird or invasive, but I can’t stop thinking about that woman who lay dead in her home for two days before someone thought to call her. It’s sad. It’s sad we live this way. It’s sad we would rather not bother someone, or get in their business, than to make sure that they are okay.

We have to get over these uncomfortable feelings we have about caring for strangers.

We all need looking after, and for that to happen, we all have to be willing to be one another’s keeper.

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A Few Thoughts on the Death Penalty

It’s been a hard week here in Aurora, Colorado. Last week the defendant in the Theater Shooting trail was found guilty on all 165 counts against him. I watched the entire live feed as the judge read each verdict. It took about an hour and the defendant never reacted once.

Tomorrow they jury will begin hearing arguments for the “sentencing phase”. They will decide whether or not the defendant will spend the rest of his life in jail or if he will die for his crimes.

After the verdict was read I made my way to the comment section of the story and was a bit surprised to find everyone stating without a shadow of a doubt that this man was not insane and that he deserved death. I remember feeling, as I have many times since this tragedy happened over three years ago, a deep sadness.

I am sad for the victims and their families. I am sad for my whole community. I am also sad for the defendants family. And I admit, I am sad for this poor man too.

I know what he did was wrong. I would never dispute that fact but I wonder if our definition for insanity might be a bit off. It seems legally he only had to know that what he was doing was wrong to face the possibility of death by the state. I have a strong feeling that this just isn’t the right way.

Over the three years that I have had this horrible event and trial in my mind I have reevaluated my feelings on the death penalty and I think I have come out of this knowing that it just isn’t right. More than that, I don’t even believe it is useful.

The first thing that gave me pause was the permanence of death. Once we decide to kill someone we can’t go back. What if we are wrong? In this case we know he committed the crime but there have been others where we executed the wrong one. How can we live with that possibility? I would rather the guilty ones live so we don’t kill any more innocents.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a hand for a hand, a foot for a foot.

– Exodus 21:24

Historically capital punishment seems to me to only have been used as a means of revenge and possibly a deterrent. Revenge serves little purpose other than the possibility of closer for the families but I would argue that letting the perpetrator live, studying him, and finding the underlying causes so that we could recognize the warning signs in others and prevent further tragedy would be a much more satisfying conclusion then simple execution.

An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind.

– Mahatma Gandhi

Clearly the death penalty doesn’t work as a deterrent because, it seems, this country is dealing with a rise in mass shootings. In fact a simple Google search showed me there was “still no evidence that executions deter criminals” and that the F.B.I. Confirms a Sharp Rise in Mass Shootings Since 2000. I mean it seems obvious that if people feared death they would not commit such crimes but they do, time and time again. It seems almost….insane?

People laugh at me when I tell them the thing that finally changed my mind completely on the idea of capital punishment. IT was a quote from Gandalf the wizard in Lord of the Rings. In the books Frodo believes that if only Gollum had been killed he would have been safe. Gandalf in turn lectures him about what should be for him to decide and what shouldn’t:

“Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement.”

– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

This touches on my first point about the permanence of death and the possibility of killing an innocent. I just don’t think we should be dealing out death to the ones who we believe deserve it when we can’t give life to the ones who deserve that too.

So what do we do instead? How do we punish those who commit the most heinous crimes. Well, I think we should start by taking a look at the ways in which society contributes to it’s members feeling like this is the only way to get what they need, and we should look at the state of our mental health care.

People who commit theses crimes are deeply disturbed and probably hurting very badly inside. Wouldn’t we be a better more just society if instead of killing them we actually rehabilitated them? Maybe even learned something from them? Then need to shed blood for blood feels so primitive, but helping those who need our help the most feels a bit more enlightened. It feels like a step forward for us all.

I’m not saying this man should ever be released from prison. I don’t know enough about him to know if he could ever be deemed anything less than a threat to society. There is a possibility that he can come to understand what he did and feel real regret and sadness for his actions. I believe he could also find some redemption in helping us prevent future deaths. Why not go that route instead?

Why the need to “fry his ass” or “kill him by firing squad”. I know we are all angry but we cannot let anger make us do something we can never come back from. We can never undo what was done and another death doesn’t ease the pain of the losses we have suffered. We should all stop and think about what is right and why.

We might find out that there could be a better way after all.

P.S. This was written with all due respect for the victims, their families, and the community. The views expressed are my own opinion and were voiced with no ill intent.

We All Need Help Sometimes, and That’s Okay!

Asking for help isn’t easy for most people. We all want to feel like we can do things on our own and asking for help makes us feel like we have failed. Asking for help means we aren’t independent, we aren’t smart, it means we are weak. At least that’s what we are taught. This is what society tells us.

I am here to tell you that is bullshit.

I have never had much trouble asking for help. I think any task can be made easier when the load is shared by many rather than one. On the flip-side I am always willing to help others too. I can’t ask for my load to be shared while being unwilling to help carry the load of those around me.

Imagine if everyone in the world felt free to ask for help and in return was willing to help others when asked. Think about how much less stressful life would be if there was always help available, all you had to do was ask?

We humans are not solitary creatures. We are meant to live in communities where the work is spread out among the entire group. We are a little like ants in a colony, working together to do more than any one person could on their own. Yes it comes with some sacrifice.

We lose our independence and part of our identity is wrapped up in the community. We open ourselves up to being exploited by selfish members of the group. We must follow the rules to keep our communities cohesive, even if we don’t agree with the rules.

I would argue that the benefits can outweigh the costs. If we would stop fighting our nature and just help one another without judgement life could be so much more enjoyable. Not only that but if we would learn to ask for, and accept, help from others in our communities.

Helping each other and accepting help in return builds connections and relationships. Connecting and building relationships feels better, and does more for our well-being, than pretending we are each an island unto ourselves. We are not meant to carry the heavy load of life all on our own. We are meant to share it, and walk lighter, and further, together.

Free writing in response to The Daily Post prompt, I Am a Rock.

The People with Sensitive Souls

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I think about this quote a lot. I am one of those people who feels so much and all of it so deeply. In fact I often, very often, find myself overwhelmed not only my own emotions, but by other people’s as well . My poor girlfriend often has to pull me out of a dark well of emotion. She doesn’t feel all of the emotions all the time like I do and that is probably for the best. If we both did I would probably never get out of my emotions. I would live curled up in a fetal position, alternating between a deep depression, an incredible anger, and a joyous happiness.

Throughout my life people have seen me as weak. Feeling so much is bad enough, but showing all of that feeling is just pathetic. I have taken on these views and whenever I find myself crying and carrying on I am also filled with an intense self hatred. I’ve tried to change. I’ve tried to be “strong” like other people but I’ve noticed the more I try to repress my feelings the stronger and more intense they become. Almost as if my mind will not let me hold anything in. I must feel, and I must express whatever I am feeling.

Some say I am to sensitive but truth is I just feel too much. Every word, every action, and every energy goes straight to my heart.

― nofacewrites

I have started talking to more and more people about it, friends, family, and co-workers, and I have found that I am not alone in being a deeply feeling person. It’s just that the world has forced so many of us to pretend. The world has no time for us. No time for anyone to stop and just feel things. Sensitive people are not to be tolerated. If only everyone could see us for who we are. We are very loving, compassionate, and caring people.

We are not weak. If only everyone understood how much strength it takes to hold all the world ills in our hearts and at the same time work to help others and make the world a better place. We push on with big, heavy, hearts filled with empathy and we love easily and fiercely. We have qualities that the world needs more of.

People who feel deeply, in my opinion, are also more susceptible to depression and low self esteem. We cannot let things roll off our backs. Everything goes in, straight to our hearts. That’s why we all need to be more compassionate. You never know if you are being harsh to, talking down to, or being rude to someone who will take the words you say into themselves and be hurt. While a deeply feeling person can be nice and loving and happy, the bad feelings run deep for us too.

So please have patience. Do not make fun of or invalidate someone who is sensitive. Do not try to toughen them up or tell them to “deal with it”. We all know life is hard, deeply feeling people know it too, but we cannot grow the thick skin the world tells us we need. We cannot help who we are.

If you know someone whom you think is “too sensitive” or “weak” or maybe you even see them as “pathetic”, try getting to know them. You might find that they are some of the best people you know. Someone like that could really shine and show the world their strengths if only the world would give them a chance. We need them more than we know. Imagine how much colder and unforgiving the world would be if we lost the people who really felt things.

Never apologize for being sensitive or emotional. It’s a sign you have a big heart, and that you aren’t afraid to let others see it. Showing your emotions is a sign of strength.

Brigitte Nicole

If you are a deeply feeling person, I want you to know you are beautiful. Life is too short not to feel deeply. Your life will be poetry. Your life will be filled with real love and compassion. You will find people who will see you for the amazing person you are and will appreciate your love of the whole world and all the people in it. Never change who you are. Do not grow a thicker skin. You don’t need it! You are not weak! I promise you you are stronger than you know. Do not hide who you are. Do not pretend to be like everyone else. Instead inspire others to see the world the way you do. Show the world how beautiful the full range of human emotion can be.