Throughout my life, family, friends, and coworkers have told me that I’m ‘overly sensitive’ and advised me to ‘toughen up’ due to my intuitive empathy.

My mother understood this about me, but after her passing, I faced judgment rather than support for my sensitivities.

This led to chronic exhaustion and an overwhelming desire to withdraw from the world.

It took everything in me not to give up on myself. I always felt out of place.

Many nights, I would gaze up at the sky, wishing my mom could come and take me with her. I spent a lot of time alone, with no one to relate to, no one who tried to understand me, and it seemed like no one liked me.

My father often told me to ‘toughen up’ and ‘grow a thicker skin.’

I avoided crowded malls and parties because those environments left me feeling anxious, dizzy, and completely drained.

In my over thirty years of advocacy and educational consulting, I focused on supporting individuals across all age groups—children, adolescents, teens, young adults, and even older adults—who, like me, are highly sensitive. Sensitivity varies among people, but empaths, in particular, deeply absorb the emotions around them, both the positive and the negative.

We experience everything intensely, with minimal barriers between ourselves and others, often leaving us vulnerable to overwhelming stimulation, exhaustion, and sensory overload. My passion for supporting empaths has always been strong because we need to develop specific strategies to navigate our unique challenges. To truly thrive, we must learn how to shield ourselves from absorbing the energy, stress, and symptoms of others.

You may also identify as a highly sensitive person (HSP), a personality trait first used by psychologists in the 1990s to describe someone susceptible to the emotional, physical, or social situations and information around them. There are pros and cons to being an HSP, also known as sensory processing sensitivity (SPS). For example, you may avoid violent movies or TV shows. I avoid the news and many social media sites.

It’s important to know that being a compassionate person isn’t considered a mental health disorder — and that there’s no official way to diagnose someone as HSP, and there’s no official susceptible person test.

It’s equally important to educate those around us—our loved ones, colleagues, healthcare providers, educators, and others—on how to best support and communicate with us. This is especially difficult for children, adolescents, teens, and even young adults, as they often aren’t aware of their empathic nature.

Throughout my life, I have struggled to find kindred spirits who truly accept and understand my sensitivity. Many neurodivergent individuals are empaths, and there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with being sensitive—there are many positive aspects to being an empath. However, finding a supportive community, a tribe where I can be authentic, has been a significant challenge. Twenty years ago, I had a tribe in Pacific Grove, California. I do not have any tribe here in Colorado. At least not one that I have been able to find since moving here in 2011.

Empaths possess a highly reactive neurological system, lacking the filters others might have to block out external stimulation.

As a result, we internalize both the positive and stressful energies surrounding us, making us exceptionally sensitive.

Research indicates that about 20 percent of the population experiences high sensitivity, though the intensity varies among individuals.

Being an empath or a highly sensitive person (HSP) is believed to be partly hereditary, but environmental factors and childhood experiences also play a significant role.

Those who have endured childhood trauma often become more compassionate but also hyper-vigilant, leading us to avoid situations that could reignite past pain. At the age of 12, I turned to alcohol and drugs as a way to dull my sensitivities.

To be clear, this is not something I would recommend!

During that time, alcohol and drugs helped me numb my feelings, making it easier to cope. I could attend parties, spend time at shopping malls, and feel completely fine.

It was such a relief.

When I was thirteen, my stepmother tried to have me committed because my intuitive abilities terrified her. She did everything she could to convince others that I was crazy. In response, I started using even more drugs to shut down my intuition. After spending a week at Stanford Children’s Hospital, a courageous psychiatrist reassured my parents that there was nothing to fear. This man, who felt like an angel in human form, was the first person to help me understand that I was healthy and whole and needed to embrace my intuitive abilities.

This was pivotal in my journey toward healing and self-acceptance as an intuitive empath. Despite this, my stepmother continued to spread fear, telling everyone that I possessed the powers of a witch. For the next five years, that was her name for me – “bitch witch.”

Over time, as I progressed on my spiritual journey, I came to embrace my diverse and beautifully nuanced gifts. I learned to recognize my unique abilities, and I’ve discovered that they not only enrich my own life but can also benefit others.