Feeling Everything, Always
I’ve always felt things deeply—more than I could ever explain.
Before a single word is spoken, I can already sense the mood in a room. A glance, a shift in body language, an exhaled breath—it’s enough. I feel the energy shift before I even understand why.
Sometimes, it’s a quiet tension hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. Other times, it’s the heaviness of unspoken words pressing into my chest. I absorb it all, whether I want to or not.
And it’s exhausting.
Carrying What Isn’t Mine
For the longest time, I thought everyone experienced the world this way—that it was normal to leave a conversation feeling drained without knowing why. That it was natural to carry the weight of emotions that weren’t mine.
But over time, I realised—this isn’t how everyone moves through life.
Some people exist in their own bubble, untouched by the emotional undercurrents of those around them. They don’t feel the silent distress in a friend’s voice or the invisible sadness behind someone’s smile.
I don’t know what that feels like.
Because I feel everything. Even when I don’t want to.
The Overwhelm of Crowds
Being in a crowd is like standing in the middle of a hundred overlapping radio signals, each one broadcasting a different emotion, and my mind is desperately trying to tune into all of them at once.
I feel the buzz of excitement from one person, the quiet anxiety from another, the exhaustion of someone who just wants to be anywhere else.
And suddenly, I don’t know what’s mine anymore.
💭 Do I feel anxious because I am anxious? Or because I just brushed past someone drowning in their own stress?
💭 Do I feel irritated because something’s wrong? Or because I’ve absorbed the frustration of the person standing next to me?
It’s like wearing emotions that don’t belong to me, and no matter how hard I try, they cling to me, layering over my own until I feel buried in feelings I can’t even name.
When Silence Feels Like a Breath of Fresh Air
This is why I crave space, quiet, nature—it’s the only place where I can tell which emotions are actually mine.
🌿 When I step into the forest, I can breathe again.
🌿 When I walk along an empty path, I feel my energy settle.
🌿 When I sit in silence with nothing but the wind and the trees, I find clarity.
Nature doesn’t overwhelm me. It doesn’t flood me with emotions or expect me to process its feelings. It just exists.
And in that stillness, I find myself again.
The Gift & The Curse
Feeling deeply isn’t just a burden. There’s beauty in it too.
✨ I notice the small things—the flicker of sadness in someone’s eyes before they admit they’re struggling.
✨ I hear the emotions in a person’s voice, even when they say they’re fine.
✨ I can hold space for others in a way that makes them feel seen, understood, safe.
But it comes at a cost.
I feel things I was never meant to carry. I take on the weight of others until I forget my own.
And I’m still learning how to separate the two.
Learning to Let Go of What Isn’t Mine
Lately, I’ve been asking myself:
💭 How much of what I feel is actually mine?
💭 How do I let go of what isn’t?
💭 How do I protect my energy without closing myself off?
Because I don’t want to shut down, to become numb just to survive. I don’t want to lose the depth and connection that comes with feeling deeply.
But I also don’t want to drown in everyone else’s emotions.
So I’m learning.
🌿 Learning to step away when I feel overwhelmed.
🌿 Learning to sit in silence and ask myself what’s truly mine.
🌿 Learning to let energy pass through me, rather than hold onto it.
Because I deserve space to feel my own emotions, without carrying the weight of the world.
Do You Feel This Too?
If you’ve ever felt the weight of emotions that weren’t yours, if you’ve ever struggled to separate your feelings from those around you—you’re not alone.
I’d love to hear from you.
💬 How do you navigate feeling so much?
💬 How do you protect your energy while still staying open to the world?
Let’s talk. Drop a comment or share your thoughts. 💙
Whispers of the Forest 
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