On Being Melancholic

I am a sensitive person.

I have such a delicate nature that I consider it a cross that I bear.

I have been an easily affected person as long as I can remember. This is so embarrassing to admit, but one time when I was a child I was watching a TV show and this old man was walking a dog. The dog got loose, and the old man started chasing him and hollering after him, begging his dog to stop. The dog didn’t stop. The old man was distraught. I started crying.

Um, HELLO?! MAGGIE- IT’S A FLIPPIN’ TV SHOW! It’s make believe. Like unicorns and fairy poop- it is NOT REAL! I just couldn’t stand to see this sweet elderly person in emotional pain.

I remember another time when I was very young and I was at a Royal’s game with my brother. A man was walking up the stairs next to where we were sitting and he tripped. He was holding a tray of food and it went everywhere. He was fine, but probably embarrassed. My heart ached for him.

As I got older my sensitivity grew with me. When I entered my teenage years and those pesky hormones started kicking in… well, it was game over. Depression and anxiety grew out of my delicate emotional state. Every teen feels lonely and worthless at some point, but my feelings were much more severe.

You’d think that now that I’m all grown up my overly-sensitive feelings would have faded away. Um, not so much. I can’t stand to see people eating at restaurants alone or sitting by themselves at a movie theater. I know that 98% of the time these people are not lonely, they are alone by choice and they are perfectly happy. But I wonder if that elderly woman sitting by herself at Cracker Barrel just lost her oldest childhood friend to cancer and is hurting deeply, or that man in the business suit hasn’t seen his family or friends in two weeks because he has been traveling for his company. I just want to go and sit with them to keep them company.

Because I am so sensitive I don’t handle criticism very well. That is part of the reason I haven’t really started to work on my writing skills to kick start my dream of free-lance writing. I know in the world of professional writing there is a ton of rejection. I can get pretty protective of my writing, so when it is criticized, I take it as a direct criticism of me. There are times I get overly sad when I lose a blog follower or when someone who used to be a regular commenter stops commenting. I spend a little too much time wondering if it was something I wrote that made the person “mad” at me and stop following me or commenting. Too many times I measure my worth on who is following me or by how many comments a post receives. Very unhealthy thinking, I know.

I don’t do well with those people who like to make fun of others. There’s nothing wrong with a little harmless teasing once in awhile, but I really cannot stand to be around people who tease others constantly. My feelings are very easily hurt. I take things very personally. These people might tell me to lighten up or that they weren’t meaning to be mean. Believe me, I wish I could just laugh off those jabbing comments, but I just can’t sometimes. I hate it that I am so sensitive. There are people out there who are mean just to be mean and it irks me to no end.

Sometimes I wonder if my sensitive nature is something that needs medical attention. Sometimes I will start crying for no reason. One time I was watching Joe play with his toys and tears spilled over because I was just so in awe of how he is growing up so fast and the pure innocence in his eyes and smile. I have struggled with depression before and one of the obvious symptoms of depression is persistent sadness. However, the sadness I feel doesn’t feel “clinical.” I just think that I am a melancholic, wistful person. It’s how God made me.

Oh how I wish I weren’t such a sensitive person. I wish I could be one of those people who are perpetually in a good mood. I wish I could be a positive, optimistic person. I want to be one of those people who are bursting with happiness; a person who is a joy to be around. I know that people like this have their down days, but they cope with it much better than I do. I try not to be an Eeyore. I try to be as positive as I can. But there are days that I just shut down. I can’t snap out of my funk, and usually it is quite obvious to others.

I feel so silly and foolish being so emotional and sensitive. I hate getting so easily upset. I try so hard to reason with myself that usually the things that make me sad, angry or worried are not that big of a deal. They shouldn’t agitate me. I wish my intellect would win over my emotions, but most of the time it does not.

I am no saint. I struggle to embrace this cross. I want it to be different. I want to be different. But God does things for a reason and sometimes I feel like he makes personalities like mine because we need compassionate people. Again, I am no saint. I am a very selfish person. I can be mean and hurtful. However there are times I want to make a really mean, snarky comment on someone’s facebook status, but I don’t want to hurt their feelings. If I can’t say anything nice, I shouldn’t say anything at all. (Thanks for that, Mom!) There might be a time I want to make fun of liturgical dancing with bongo drums or a priest’s tie-dyed cassock, but I wonder if someone who is interested in joining the Catholic Church will hear or see my hateful comments and decide not to join because of my hypocrisy.

I avoid writing about controversial topics because I don’t want to make anyone mad. For example, I refrain from posting anything online that says “Abortion is murder.” I fully believe that abortion IS murder and that Roe v Wade should be overturned. However, I know there are women out there who are deeply hurting from their abortions and are full of regret. I don’t believe throwing the word murder around will help them to repent and start to heal. I know that the truth is sometimes hard to hear and that controversial topics need to be addressed. I just believe that people’s feelings need to be taken into consideration sometimes.

Being a sensitive person has helped me to help others. I can usually always tell if something is wrong with someone. Sometimes I am freakishly in-tune with how someone is feeling. That helps me to better communicate with them and sometimes I am able to give them comfort when they need it the most. But believe me, it is not easy to take on someone else’s pain.

I have learned to love others so much more because of my sensitive nature. When the 10th anniversary of 9-11 came around this year and there were all these stories of women who had lost their husbands or children who never got to meet their fathers I often broke down in tears. I even started tearing up in Mass that day when we sang America the Beautiful as our closing hymn. It made me realize just how short life is and to never take anything for granted- including living in the United States. Today, right here in Kansas City, a 10 month old baby girl was taken from her crib while she slept. Someone came in through her bedroom window and took her. I cannot imagine the pain and fear that her mother and father are going through. My heart breaks for them. I realize that when Joe wakes up for the 10th time tonight, in his crib that is in my room, I should be thankful. I know people are sad when they hear this story, but I’ve been thinking about it almost constantly and feel worried and sad.

When I hear of a woman who has had a miscarriage or stillborn, or who is suffering from infertility I cry with them. I know the pain. I know the emptiness and sadness. I know the questions they ask. I always cry when I see the video of the baby who hears his mother’s voice for the first time or the child who runs a race with prosthetic legs.



It makes me so thankful for the advances in technology and look in amazement at the tenderness and brilliance of the human soul. Heck, I even cry at Dancing with the Stars! This all makes me realize that life is precious. Life is a gift. I want to reach out to those who are lonely and grieving. I want to hug those young women who are confused about what to do with their life and who don’t realize their self-worth. I want to hug those men who work hard and get no recognition. I want to pray with those who are hurting.

God gives us gifts. Sometimes I get mad and want to know why God made me such a moody-mooderson. It’s not easy to suffer and feel this way. However, I try my hardest to see the good that can be brought out by my sensitive nature. Hmm… a pessimist who sees the glass half full? I know, I know- I’m strange.