Empathy

Growing up I always felt different, awkward, and distant. Often times my mother caught me daydreaming because this world was too much for me. I grew up with seven siblings, all of which are nothing like me nor I like them. We also had endless family and friends in and out of our home, one would think I would have been happy. Actaully, it was quite the opposite. Feeling overwhelmed or having mood swings were a problem. My family couldn't understand my behavior, and I never discussed it with anyone so I just dismissed the signs.

Instead losing myself in books and my daydreams felt like a safer place for me. The books I read were unsual like the dictionary, the encyclopedia, the thesaurus, and I began to read the Bible as well. Soon I began to read magazines. Time and People being my favorites because the outside was too much. Magazines and the newspaper brought the outside to me. The outside was overbearing to my sensitive feelings, and although I had friends I was even distant from them.

As I got older I still didn't understand why I was always SAD. I remember looking up the word and was surprised to find out that it wasn't only just a word it was an acronym. Seasonal Acute Depression. That was also the first to learn about depression and how at a young age it was rare. I didn't understand why I was depressed. I had both parents growing up who took us on road trips every summer which included Disneyland. My siblings were just siblings, but we had each other no matter what. I was never alone with so much family in my life. My friends I had known since the first grade.

What was wrong with me? I had become cold, emotionally numb to what people felt, thought, or even said. Until I found myself one afternoon lost in daydreams all morning and it scared me. There I was, prefering to live my life in some imaginary world in my head, nonetheless, while my real world was passing me by. How long had I been living in my head? That's what scared me - was my life what I imagined it to be or was it real? Not only that, but how would I find out the truth?

Soon drugs became a factor and then alcohol so the answer to those questions were far from me knowing the truth. The weed made me happy and the alcohol made me forget. It wasn't the smartest way to deal with what I was dealing with, but I found an escape. An escape from daydreaming and still having to deal with the outside world. However, since I didn't know what exactly it was I was dealing with I was considered an alcoholic and drug addict which is better than not knowing what the problem is.

In my lifetime, I have had three nervous breakdowns. The first time I was thirteen, the second time I was eighteen, and the last time I was twenty-eight. Why I haven't had one since is beyond my comprehension since a lot more has happened to me than when I had my nervous breakdowns. When they happened, I didn't know what they were. I thought I was going crazy, and during the last one, I thought I was going to die.

Life is already as hard as it could get. For some, a lot more than others, but we strive on. To my family, mental illness is a taboo, or a voodoo, or you're cookoo. Since we can't physically see the emotions and the troubling thoughts that make us upset then we must be crazy or possessed, and no one could speak on it because they don't know what it means. Life is even harder when family either make it harder because they don't understand, or just label you crazy.

My two favorite authors and poets and I almost had something in common. Emily Dickensen and Edgar Allan Poe became shut-ins later in their lives. I say almost because that was how I felt about four years ago. I remember talking to a friend whom I confided in about how I felt. I had never felt so strongly about not leavimg my house and not opening the door for anyone. It was so real, once again my mind scared me again. Only, this time, I had a better sense and/or idea of what it was I was dealing with.

One day I was standing at the bus stop where a boy who looked like he was in either in the eight or ninth grade standing at the same bus stop with his brother. His brother was disabled, and I stood there watching this young who was caring for his diabled brother. As I stared, I began to feel sad because I was trying to figure out how this boy felt being left with the resposnsibility of taking care of his brother. I soon felt like I was in a trance amd when I saw the bus I noticed tears were coming down my face.

It was something I never experienced before, but it made me realize something I wish I had realized way before. Humans have a natural gift of feeling sorry, or putting ourselves in someone else's shoes, however, not all are over-sensative when it come to true feelings. It is one thing to understand what people go through, it is another to actually feel what they are feeling.

Hence, the reason for feeling overwhelmed, my mood swings, my distance, my sadness, my unexplained behavior all of these and some decisions I've made in my life were finally explained to me in that moment in time. Empaths have the ability to actually feel what other people feel. Which is why hospitals and sometimes even clinics were difficult for me be inside no more than 10 minutes without having to step out.

There were times when I felt completely drained from energy, was too tired without reason, or getting anxiety from an unknown source. The times when my boyfriend would look for me, and I would get butterflies in my stomach or my heart wouuld beat faster only minutes before he'd find me. All those unknown emotions that mentally tormented were caused from something no one can prove, except for the person who has it, amd even they don't know they have it.

Until now. More and more people are speaking about it, writing books on it, and some therapist are issuing it a factor in their therapies. It is something that I am positive more people out there who don't know that they have it or that they have a child who has it. It is definitely something to look into in children because it could help a lifetime. I'd wish someone had let me know, but I am glad that I do know now because my children have my traits.

When my daughter was born I was in the nursery with her holding her after she had just fallen asleep. I wanted to hold her longer before I laid her down, and was just staring at her little face as she slept. I noticed her making faces while she slept and I realized that with every face there was another baby crying. Each time another baby cried she make another kind of face. It was as though she was feeling them when they cried.