There’s a reason I’ve been quiet. Wave after wave of grief keep hitting, and I’m struggling to come up for air. The depressing state of affairs in my nation. The destruction from the Maui fires. The early death of an uncle I loved. The devastating betrayal from family members I held dear. And the despair with the realization that my choices seem to have no bearing on my body.

Over the last few years, I’ve been learning to embrace a part of myself I resent: being sensitive. Growing up, it was portrayed as a weakness. I needed to stop feeling and thinking so intensely. It just wasn’t acceptable in a world that praised toughness as a virtue.

Sensitivity is why I was a people-pleaser, a peacemaker, and a perfectionist. But it’s also the reason I don’t just feel for people, I feel with them. Caring and loving deeply is a double-edged sword. Like any trait, it has its benefits and downfalls. Right now, it’s shutting me down.

I had a lot of hope in July. I determined to tackle my nutrition, believing it to be a great healer. For 30 days, I ate only protein, vegetables, fruit and healthy nuts and fats. I cut out anything that commonly causes inflammation in the body: all types of added sugar, dairy, grains, legumes and of course, no alcohol.

The Whole30 nutritional reset has always been really beneficial for Todd and me. This round, Ella joined in. Having done a few in the past, I expected to see dramatic improvements in sleep, energy, pain, and just about every other category you can imagine. I kept a daily diary, and hoped for the best.

The waves kept coming anyway. Endless medical appointments for the kids and me bring daunting to-do lists for a weak body and mind. Sleep evades me. Coming off of two critical medications has thrown me back into bed and using a wheelchair more often than not. Add in a persistent knee injury and catching multiple viruses means basic functioning feels impossible. Three and a half weeks and counting until I can get these blood tests and try to get back to living.

But life can’t wait for that. School has started, and the kids need me. Two new schools, two different schedules. Pick-up, drop-off. Kindergarten homework and intermediate school drama. They’re exhausted and need my undivided love and support right now. It doesn’t matter if my tank is running on empty.

It’s times like these when I wish I didn’t feel so much. If I could only compartmentalize, forget, and not care what others’ think, I’d be tough, respected and probably a lot happier.

God didn’t make me that way. Sensitive people are why non-profits exist, injustice is fought and laws are made. It’s also why the sick are brought casseroles, students have teachers, and patients have nurses and therapists. Maybe it’s not a weakness but a superpower.