"You Bruise Easily" Was Never About Me: Reclaiming Sensitivity

I used to believe I bruised easily.

Not just my skin, my feelings, my voice, my sense of self.

I believed it because someone I loved told me it was true.

And when you’re young and lonely and longing to be chosen, you’ll take any explanation that keeps the peace, even if it’s one that erases you.

At first, it sounded almost observational, like he was diagnosing a flaw I was supposed to fix.

You bruise easily.

Translation:

You are fragile.

You’re the problem.

You make things harder than they need to be.

Over time, those words didn’t just describe me. They defined me.

I built an entire identity around the idea that my hurt was an inconvenience, and my sensitivity was a design flaw. And if something went wrong, it must have been because I was too much: too sensitive, too emotional, too loud, too intuitive, too everything.

It took me decades to understand that “you bruise easily” wasn’t the truth; it was training.

People who say things like that aren’t trying to understand you.

They’re trying to shape you.

It was a way of saying:

Your pain isn’t valid.

Your reactions make me uncomfortable.

If I hurt you, that’s your fault for feeling it.

If I harm you, you must’ve deserved it.

If you want love, make yourself smaller.

I didn’t bruise easily.

I adapted quickly.

I learned to shrink my reactions, mute my voice, rationalize my hurt, and accept blame I never earned... all to keep the peace that never existed.

The truth is, my sensitivity has always been my intelligence.

It was the canary in the coal mine that warned me long before I had the courage to listen.

My bruises weren’t proof that I was weak.

They were signals that the environment was toxic.

I see it now:

My sensitivity didn’t make me fragile.

It made me honest.

It made me alive.

It made me the woman who finally walked away.

I don’t bruise easily.

People just hit harder when they can’t manipulate the narrative.

Reclaiming my sensitivity has been the quiet revolution of this chapter of my life.

And now that I’m no longer believing their version of me, my skin, my heart, and my voice are healing in ways I didn’t know were possible.

A Slice of Humble Pie

Sometimes, the thing I believed was a personal flaw was actually a weapon someone handed me, so I’d blame myself instead of questioning them.

Reflection

Where in your life did someone convince you that your natural traits, sensitivity, intuition, anger, and empathy were “problems”?

Who benefited from you believing that?

Affirmation

My sensitivity is not a flaw to fix. It is insight, intelligence, and truth. I no longer shrink to make others comfortable.