Underneath
What's going on underneath #
Three things that tend to sit under the words.
It quietly treats the other person's reaction as the correct size and one's own as the wrong size, and it never asks what the comment that started it was actually like.
In some families, strong feelings were treated as a problem to settle quickly, and the reasons vary.
Often the belief sits on a quieter rule: “Feeling things strongly is a flaw to hide,” or “Being hurt means I did something wrong.”
Reactions
What people often do #
- Laugh along with teasing, then replay it all the way home
- Apologise for being upset before explaining why
- Keep hurt private, and seem fine to everyone
- Steer clear of films, songs or topics that might bring tears in front of others
- Check with others whether a reaction is allowed before having it
The deck
The story in 6 cards #
Six short cards, from the moment to letting go.
The joke about your cooking
A Wednesday evening in Singapore. A friend made a joke about your cooking at dinner, and everyone laughed. You laughed too, but it stung. Now, at home, you replay it, then scold yourself: 'too sensitive again, it was just a joke'. You feel twice as bad: once for the hurt, once for feeling it at all. The feeling lingers longer than you expect.
Feeling things too much
Underneath sits a rule: 'I'm too sensitive.' It sounds like honest self-knowledge. Plenty of people live by it without a second thought. But look at what it does: it turns every hurt into proof that something is wrong with you. Instead of noticing that a comment stung, you blame yourself for noticing, and the feeling gets a second layer of shame on top.
Why someone said we felt too much
We hold it because someone once told us we felt things too much. Lots of people grow up with some version of this rule, and it often made good sense at the time. Maybe you were called 'touchy' as a child. Maybe your reactions were laughed at. Either way, the rule isn't silly. It comes from wanting to fit in and not be a problem. That deserves kindness, not blame.
Self-blame with every hurt
Each hurt now comes with self-blame. Bit by bit, it all adds up. You hide your reactions. You laugh along when things sting. You stop telling people when they've upset you. You feel lonely with feelings nobody knows about. The sensitivity that helps you notice others, care deeply and see small kindnesses starts to feel like a flaw to hide.
Is the self-blame worth it?
Ask yourself honestly: has calling yourself too sensitive ever made the hurt go away? Or has it mostly added shame to it? Noticing things deeply is part of how many caring people are made. Take a moment with it, if you like. Either way, feeling a sting isn't the measure of something wrong with you. Is holding this rule so tightly worth what it costs?
Noticing deeply is allowed
Letting go doesn't mean every comment has to be a big deal. It means you can notice a sting without blaming yourself for it. You can say quietly 'that hurt a bit', and let it pass. Nothing else has to change first. That's where some peace comes back: your feelings become information, not faults, and your caring nature gets to be a strength.
If people keep putting you down, mocking you, threatening or frightening you and calling you too sensitive when you notice, that is something else, and worth taking seriously.
The flip
The old rule, and a new one to try #
The old ruleI'm too sensitive.
A new rule to tryI notice things deeply. That's allowed.
Three small days
Try it for 3 days #
- Day 1
When something stings, say quietly 'that hurt a bit'
- Day 2
Notice one kind thing your sensitivity helped you see
- Day 3
Be gentle with yourself after a hard comment
Want to talk it through?
“In which situations do you most often call yourself too sensitive?”
Free and private. No sign-up to start. The chat opens with this question.
Everything this deck knows
Go deeper #
What it sounds like, where it comes from, what it costs, and other ways to see it. Every question opens a chat on it.
How it lands
What was said
Three words said before anyone else can #
“I'm too sensitive.” Said to yourself after tearing up at a film, after a teasing comment at dinner stayed for days, after a colleague's short reply felt sharp, or said out loud as an apology: “sorry, I know, I'm too sensitive.”
It often gets said first, before anyone else can say it, like a shield. Some people have heard some version of it from others for years, and at some point started saying it themselves, as if it were plain fact.
When did you last say it, or think it?Talk about this ›
What had just happened, and what were you feeling before the sentence covered it over?Talk about this ›
The first few seconds
The feeling, then the telling-off #
Some people notice two things happen fast: first the feeling itself, a lump in the throat, warm eyes, a sinking in the chest; then a quick inner telling-off for having it, and the effort of hiding it from the room.
Feelings tend to arrive in the body before any thought decides whether they're allowed. The hurt was already there; the belief only arrives a second later to judge it. Some people find that second layer the more tiring one.
Which part is harder: the feeling itself, or the effort of hiding it?Talk about this ›
What does your face do while the hiding is going on?Talk about this ›
Why it lands
It sounds like self-awareness, so it sticks #
Calling oneself too sensitive can feel honest, even mature, like owning a flaw before anyone else points it out. That's why it rarely gets questioned. It sounds like insight, not like a rule someone is living by.
But the sentence never says too sensitive compared with what, or for whom. It quietly treats the other person's reaction as the correct size and one's own as the wrong size, and it never asks what the comment that started it was actually like.
Too sensitive for what, exactly, and by whose measure?Talk about this ›
If a friend reacted the same way to the same comment, would you call it too much?Talk about this ›
The voice inside
The voice that talks over the feeling #
“Get over it.” “Don't make a scene.” “Other people wouldn't be bothered by this.” The voice tends to speak right on top of the feeling, trying to shrink it before anyone notices it's there.
Some people notice it's harsher with them than they'd ever be with anyone else. A friend in tears over a hurtful comment gets comfort; the same tears in the mirror get a telling-off. The voice holds a double standard it never mentions.
Whose voice does it sound like when it says “get over it”?Talk about this ›
Is it yours, or one heard often enough to be learned by heart?Talk about this ›
Where it comes from
Where it can come from
Where it often starts #
For some people it seems to grow from being told early: “don't cry over it”, “it was just a joke”, “why take everything to heart?” In some families, strong feelings were treated as a problem to settle quickly, and the reasons vary.
A child who heard that often might conclude that feeling things strongly caused trouble, so the rule became to feel less, or at least show less. A rule like that can stay long after the room has changed.
When did your feelings first start to seem like too much, and who was in the room when that idea took hold?Talk about this ›
The belief under it
The rule underneath the rule #
Often the belief sits on a quieter rule: “Feeling things strongly is a flaw to hide,” or “Being hurt means I did something wrong.” The first line sounds like a note about character. The rule underneath decides what gets shown.
Rules like this can feel like facts, the way the ground feels like ground. Some people trace a rule like this back to early years; some don't. Either way, it can be looked at, gently and in your own time.
Which rooms does it still fit, and which not?
Think of the people and places around you now: where does showing a feeling go easily, and where doesn't it?Talk about this ›
What it costs
What it costs
What hiding the feeling costs #
It can mean smiling through a teasing comment at a family function, swallowing hurt at work, then snapping at home, never telling a friend that something they said stung, or feeling alone in a room of people who like you.
Some people describe a tiredness that comes from managing their own reactions all day. Some notice that pressing down the hard feelings seems to press down the good ones too: the easy laugh, the open delight, being moved by music.
What has it cost in the last year: a hurt never mentioned, a friendship that stayed polite, a moment of real feeling hidden because it seemed like too much?Talk about this ›
If it stays as it is
Five more years of living by that rule #
Picture one ordinary Tuesday on a day when “I'm too sensitive” is loud. What is in it: the conversations, the comments, the feelings, the things left unsaid? It's only a picture to look at, nothing to fix.
Perhaps a teasing line in a group chat, a short reply from a colleague, a laugh added to a message that didn't feel funny, a film switched off halfway.
Nothing here needs an answer yet, and nothing has to change because of it. Looking at that day, what, if anything, do you notice?
What happens in that day, and what gets passed over?Talk about this ›
Another way to see it
Another way to see it
Sensitive is not the same as too sensitive #
Feeling things strongly is one way people differ, the way some people are tall and some are short. It doesn't need to be a flaw or a gift to be allowed. It can simply be how a comment happened to land.
The word “too” is where the judgement lives. It assumes there's a right amount of feeling and that someone else sets it. It never asks what was actually said, or how it was said, before deciding the reaction was the problem.
What would change if the word “too” was taken out?Talk about this ›
What would the sentence say then, about the last moment you used it?Talk about this ›
Noticing it sooner
What people notice when they check #
When people look closely at the moments they called themselves too sensitive, some notice what came just before: a joke at their expense, a short reply, feelings waved away.
Some also notice they rarely call anyone else too sensitive. They give friends room to be hurt, to cry at a film, to need a minute. The rule can have one strict setting, kept for themselves alone.
Think of the last time you felt too sensitive.
What came just before, for you?Talk about this ›
What was actually said or done, and what did you feel, before the sentence arrived to judge it?Talk about this ›
Making peace with it
No need to toughen up first #
Making peace with the belief doesn't mean becoming harder or learning not to feel. It means the feeling gets to be there without a second layer of scolding laid on top of it.
Some people find it lighter to think: something here mattered to me. A feeling can be felt and noticed, and not necessarily shown to everyone. Some rooms really won't listen, and you don't have to test them.
What would it be like to have a feeling and skip the telling-off?Talk about this ›
What would you say to yourself, quietly, if the scolding voice took the evening off?Talk about this ›
A truer sentence
A truer sentence to keep nearby #
Instead of arguing with “I'm too sensitive”, some people keep a truer line nearby: “I notice things strongly, and that's part of how I care.” There's no need to fight the old line head on.
Some people find it doesn't have to feel true at first, and that a line of their own, said after a comment stings, takes a little of the scolding out of the moment. Others find it doesn't, and that's fine too.
What would a truer sentence be in your own words, one that is honest about feeling things strongly without calling it a fault?Talk about this ›
What to let be
On hard days the old line comes back #
On tired or hard days, the old sentence may come back, especially after a sharp comment or a teasing evening. It's an old habit of thought passing through, the way an old nickname still turns heads.
Some people find it helps to notice the sentence, name it, and let the feeling be there anyway. The feeling can be felt, and the evening can still go on at its own pace, without anything having to be decided.
Putting the hurt down for the evening doesn't mean it was fine, or that it's settled. It only means it doesn't have to be carried into everything else tonight.
What would make tonight a little softer?Talk about this ›
If it loosened
And if the belief loosened, even a notch #
Imagine, only as a picture, the belief a notch quieter. Feelings still come strongly, but they arrive without a telling-off stacked on top. What is the first thing that feels different?
Small things can be enough, such as a film that moves you without an apology, a plain “that stung” said to a trusted friend, a teasing comment put down without replaying it all night. What would your first small thing be?
Nothing here needs to be said to anyone. Whatever comes up is yours, and worth noticing. If you'd like to look at it properly, a chat is one tap away.
Small things to try
Something to try
A few things people find useful #
- When the feeling comes, try naming it plainly in your head: that stung
- Swap “I'm too sensitive” for “that mattered to me”, just once
- Notice whether you'd call a friend too sensitive for the same thing
- Let one film, song or moment move you, without explaining it away
- When a comment lingers, ask: was it the reaction that was off, or the comment?
Small, and all optional. Try whichever feels doable.
Pick a question
Talk it through #
Tap one. A chat with Dr. Thoughts opens on that question: free, private, no sign-up to start.
- In which situations do you most often call yourself too sensitive?
- What usually happens just before the thought turns up?
- What feeling sits under it: hurt, embarrassment, or something else?
- On an ordinary day when this rule is loud, what would you still be putting off?
- If it eased a little, what would you notice first?