Sensitive and Tough

Stop being so sensitive. I can hear my brother’s voices as 13-year-old Brian is starting to become a man. I hear it in my fraternity brothers while in college. And I can even hear it in my friends and people that are closest to me today. As long as I can remember, I have felt that sensitivity has been part of my wiring; in my DNA, so to speak. As a kid, I didn’t know what to do with it. I could feel things others seemingly didn’t, or at least they didn’t acknowledge they did. I was emotional. Boys are often told to be stoic. Brush it off. Don’t cry. Be tough. Heck, forget being tough, you just are tough. Like sensitivity, it’s part of your wiring.
 
And tough I was. I was scrappy. Determined. Unafraid of those bigger than me and I was almost always the smallest one in any group I was part of. I had nicknames like Digger, Gnat, and some probably professed that I had a napoleon complex (they were probably justified in their professing). When I ran for Class President in 8th grade, I started my speech by saying, “I may be small but I have tall ideas.” Toughness stopped people from messing with me. It protected me in a lot of ways. I leaned into toughness but often couldn’t hide my sensitivity—it was outward. Emotions often are.
 
So, I had this combination of sensitivity and toughness. The toughness made me feel like I could take on the world, and the sensitivity made me question if the world would love me back. The toughness would cause me to run through a brick wall, and the sensitivity would cause me to look around to see if anyone needed a hand while I did. The toughness made me numb to asking for help, and the sensitivity led to tears when I failed on my own.
 
For me, the polarity of being sensitive and tough came with upsides and downsides. Benefits and hindrances. As I have gotten older, I’ve learned to appreciate both and manage both while recognizing their downsides. I’ve tried to create a relationship with my toughness and understand when it serves me and when it does not. I’ve recognized that while sensitivity may not be the best asset to hold on the blacktop as a 13-year-old basketball player, it’s an unfair advantage to have when building meaningful relationships. My toughness often helps me perform. My sensitivity often helps me connect. And yet, if I overdose on either, I often get in the way of myself.
 
We all live with polarity. For me, sensitivity and toughness have been at the core of my being. I toggle between them. It gives me range and also stifles me. What polarities do you live with? How have you seen them evolve through the years? What serves you today that may not have served you in your childhood? How can you create unique relationships with your polarities? As always, I’d love to hear from you.