My Sensitive Heart
I have come to the realisation that I have a sensitive heart. If you met me, sensitive is not the word that would spring to mind I admit. I did some DISC profiling on a leadership course today and I am, as always, a high D with elements of C. D is for dominance. I am assertive, forceful, results-driven.
But that is my mind. These profiles rarely give you an opportunity to delve into your heart. And my mind is strong as I have already mentioned in this blog. I am not surprised as I have spent years and years strengthening it. Being clever was my thing from an early age. I remember being 4 or 5 years old and being able to name every member of Margaret Thatcher's Cabinet as my party piece. I wasn't particularly pretty as a child (or teenager for that matter!) and although I liked athletics I was consistent rather than exemplary. I also wasn't creative in anything valued like art or music. As a child I shut myself in my room and read books and as a teenager I wrote dark poetry. Both of which made people worry about me in a way learning piano or ballet would not have done.
But people liked how clever I was. My parents. My teachers. The popular kids at school who copied my homework. And so I continued to strengthen my mind and neglect my sensitive heart because it felt no one really wanted that part of me anyway. I did very well academically at my comprehensive school. I went to Oxford. I left there with a First Class Honours degree in English Literature. I worked in Japan, for the BBC, in publishing, in technology, and I started my own business.
But during this time my sensitive heart ached and ached. I had shut it down to avoid feeling the pain I had buried inside. But by shutting out pain, I had also shut out her twin sister joy. And there is only so long a sensitive heart can live without joy in her life.
In 2012, following the birth of my daughter, I knew I needed to find a way to heal my heart. To allow her to feel joy again, which meant also feeling pain. And it started with the pain. A seemingly endless amount of it. A river of silent tears that did not stop every time I was alone. Now I look back I see a blur of counselling; of alcohol; and a desperate search for affection in all the wrong places. Thank goodness that chapter of my life is over.
Or is it? Every so often the threat of falling back seems to loom over me. My sensitive heart still desperately searching for affection and instead finding only pain. I feel like I am not learning. I feel that my heart insists on making again and again the mistakes of the past. How do I move forward? As my professional life goes from strength to strength, my mind is as happy as ever in all she has achieved and will continue to achieve. My heart still struggles. The elation of joy at the tiniest of kindnesses is wonderful and does come frequently; but it is too often over-shadowed by the sharp stabs of pain felt when the world is cruel.
Yet I know I cannot stop now. The five year journey that lies behind me propels me on. I will learn how to savour the joy and forget the pain. I will learn ...
But that is my mind. These profiles rarely give you an opportunity to delve into your heart. And my mind is strong as I have already mentioned in this blog. I am not surprised as I have spent years and years strengthening it. Being clever was my thing from an early age. I remember being 4 or 5 years old and being able to name every member of Margaret Thatcher's Cabinet as my party piece. I wasn't particularly pretty as a child (or teenager for that matter!) and although I liked athletics I was consistent rather than exemplary. I also wasn't creative in anything valued like art or music. As a child I shut myself in my room and read books and as a teenager I wrote dark poetry. Both of which made people worry about me in a way learning piano or ballet would not have done.
But people liked how clever I was. My parents. My teachers. The popular kids at school who copied my homework. And so I continued to strengthen my mind and neglect my sensitive heart because it felt no one really wanted that part of me anyway. I did very well academically at my comprehensive school. I went to Oxford. I left there with a First Class Honours degree in English Literature. I worked in Japan, for the BBC, in publishing, in technology, and I started my own business.
But during this time my sensitive heart ached and ached. I had shut it down to avoid feeling the pain I had buried inside. But by shutting out pain, I had also shut out her twin sister joy. And there is only so long a sensitive heart can live without joy in her life.
In 2012, following the birth of my daughter, I knew I needed to find a way to heal my heart. To allow her to feel joy again, which meant also feeling pain. And it started with the pain. A seemingly endless amount of it. A river of silent tears that did not stop every time I was alone. Now I look back I see a blur of counselling; of alcohol; and a desperate search for affection in all the wrong places. Thank goodness that chapter of my life is over.
Or is it? Every so often the threat of falling back seems to loom over me. My sensitive heart still desperately searching for affection and instead finding only pain. I feel like I am not learning. I feel that my heart insists on making again and again the mistakes of the past. How do I move forward? As my professional life goes from strength to strength, my mind is as happy as ever in all she has achieved and will continue to achieve. My heart still struggles. The elation of joy at the tiniest of kindnesses is wonderful and does come frequently; but it is too often over-shadowed by the sharp stabs of pain felt when the world is cruel.
Yet I know I cannot stop now. The five year journey that lies behind me propels me on. I will learn how to savour the joy and forget the pain. I will learn ...
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