Keeping it Kind

  Have you ever read a book that made you sob uncontrollably? Watched a film that left you weeping with abandon?...... Felt the unhappiness of another person pour into you like rain from a gutter into an overflow barrel? Yeah. That last one is less common. Especially when that person might be a complete stranger or even someone that you really don’t WANT to feel anything for.  I have never really worked out if it is an extraordinary privilege or horrendous curse to be an empath.  There are distinct pros to it.  We build relationships quickly and strongly We are natural “helpers” We find beauty in the most unusual and dark places We draw people together with our ability to read the needs and wants of others We are excellent “mimics” and actors having become chameleon-like and canny in our attempts to people please, blend in & not upset people We have an affinity with the world around us that often translates as creativity We are self reflective and constantly adapting, as versatile

I have spent my life being a distinctly average, decidedly GOOD girl. I got good grades at school. I won a prize for music. I did ok at A levels. Yes, I kissed boys and drank cider but I was mainly just... average. I didn’t stick out.  Deliberately.  At first school I was honest and open about loving reading. I revelled in nerdiness and embraced the geek. I talked with my very average, neutral accent without thought of whether it made me different.  It did. In a small village school filled with the children of farmers I stuck out like a whacking great hypodermic in their haystack. I was bullied relentlessly from 8-14.  So at high school I learned the art of people pleasing. I made sure to blend in. I didn’t challenge the people who took my dinner money or who copied my homework. I didn’t snitch. I didn’t complain. I smiled, looked at my shoes, kept my head down.  I became a doormat. I didn’t go through the teenage anger or moods that most girls do. I was just quietly polite. Helpful. K