Unveiling My Hidden Sensitivity: Confronting the Fear of Feelings

In a recent dream, I found myself attending a high school reunion where my former classmates appeared frozen in time—no signs of aging. Odd, right? Well, this dream triggered memories of my first-ever romantic relationship, which had faded into the recesses of my mind for nearly two decades. It felt like a different lifetime, involving different people—certainly not the person I am today.

As I reflect on that relationship and the friends I had during that time, I recall fond memories. However, I suspect my ex feels quite differently. I broke up with him in a callous, heartless manner after almost four years together. At the time, I justified my actions by numbing myself to any potential pain or hurt, convincing myself that what I did was acceptable.

Looking back, I cringe at some of my behaviors during that period. For instance, in the early stages of our relationship, I would playfully (yet somewhat forcefully) punch him in the arm or chest. A mutual friend once confronted me, asking why I would do that. It was an epiphany—I hadn't even realized the peculiar behavior. The truth is, I was grappling with my own emotions and struggled to express them. So, instead of dealing with my feelings, I resorted to these strange displays of affection—punches instead of embraces. It's quite cringeworthy, in hindsight.

Back then, I perceived sensitivity and sentimentality as weaknesses to be avoided. Whenever my boyfriend said something sentimental, funny, or teasing, I would respond with another playful punch or a self-deprecating joke. It seemed harmless at the time, even endearing, but the ramifications ran deeper.

I was simply terrified of allowing myself to feel. Vulnerability meant opening myself up to potential hurt, and that was a risk I wasn't willing to take. Little did I know, this relationship would teach me the importance of shedding that emotional armor and embracing my sensitivity.

It's taken almost two decades for me to revisit this chapter of my life. I never fully processed it back then, and while some memories have faded or vanished, others remain. The decision to end the relationship after three and a half years, when we were both in college, came with its own challenges—I had never ended a relationship before and had no idea how to navigate such waters.

I was so petrified of experiencing hurt or causing him pain that I convinced myself neither of us would be affected. I feared intense emotions so much that I denied their existence altogether. In my mind, after dating for nearly four years, breaking up would be a casual affair. I truly believed it! This self-deception provided me with an easy way out when I left for a semester of study abroad. I thought that time apart would naturally dissolve our relationship. At the time, it all made perfect sense. I wasn't trying to be hurtful; I was trying to spare us both from pain.

I won't delve into all the intricate details, but eventually, I ended the relationship over the phone, from a different continent. I was cold and matter-of-fact, convinced that he understood our relationship had already disintegrated. My attitude was, "You must have seen this coming; it's not a big deal." After a couple of emails, we never interacted again.

Today, it pains me to admit how unfair I was to treat someone so callously. He didn't deserve that. I continuously rationalized my actions, convincing myself that he would be fine and that my absence wouldn't cause any significant harm.

It's difficult to explain this thought process as a functioning adult. I suffered from such low self-esteem that I couldn't fathom how my departure could deeply affect someone else. After all, it was just me—I didn't consider myself that important. Besides, sentimentality and sensitivity were alien concepts to me, so why would anyone be hurt by my departure?

It's a painful admission to make, but I now understand that these defense mechanisms were my way of evading pain, hurt, and emotions in general.

This brings me to the purpose of this profoundly personal and lengthy post.

I am filled with regret and sadness for causing someone such profound pain. We were both young and immature, prone to making foolish decisions, but deep down, he was a genuinely good person who didn't deserve the callousness I inflicted upon him.

This entire experience has led me to realize that had I been more in tune with my emotions, had I been taught that sensitivity and expressing love sentimentally were not weaknesses but strengths, that relationship would have thrived. Instead, I chose to ignore any hint of sensitivity or vulnerability because I deemed them as flaws. As a result, he had to suffer due to my emotional ignorance.

Most of us eventually learn that genuine love necessitates opening ourselves up to the possibility of pain. If we perceive vulnerability as a weakness and actively avoid it, we cannot cultivate meaningful relationships.

It is imperative for everyone to understand that sensitivity is not a flaw or solely attributed to femininity. I've heard stories from highly sensitive men who were taught to suppress their emotions from a young age. Such suppression not only hampers relationships but can also lead to psychological and behavioral issues.

Interestingly, even as the host of a podcast and the writer behind a website dedicated to sensitivity, I too used to view tenderness as foolishness. Talk about a complete 180! Today, I embrace sentimentality and allow myself to bask in its warmth.

My hope is that by sharing my own journey, others can learn from my mistakes. Let's break the cycle of suppressing our sensitivity and start celebrating it. Together, we can create more compassionate and fulfilling relationships, free from the limitations of emotional ignorance.

Warmly,

Tekin Meric, MSc

Counselor & Coach

If you would like to receive counseling or coaching support as you navigate your life issues, please feel free to reach out. I would be honored to hold space for you online or in my practice in Amsterdam.