Too Sensitive

In 1997 Jewel’s album Pieces of You was popular and we played it often in the kitchen. When the song I’m Sensitive would play, my step-kids would run over to the stereo and turn it up and shout, “This is Denise’s song!”

I was 37 years old and not once, in my 36 previous years, would I have described myself as too sensitive. But that became my identity.

I have very clear memories of many conversations with the children’s mother, in which I told her, “You can’t talk to me that way!”

She’d respond, “I don’t talk to you any differently than I talk to anyone else in my life.”

Then I would whine, “But I am different from anyone else in your life. I spend more time with your children than anyone on this planet, including you or their father. If anyone deserves special treatment, it is me. I know that you can be a little more kind and respectful.”

When I would discipline the kids their response was frequently, “You are too sensitive ... even Mom says so.”

The truth is that I loved this song back then but today it is more than that.  It is my mantra.