My father used to joke around a lot and if I seemed offended, he would say, “Lighten up, Julie Ann” or “Julieta,” as he sometimes called me. He would say it when I was stressed about school work or some other big event, like a job interview or law school exam. I used to get so upset when he said this, “Lighten up” phrase. I hardly understood what he meant. Really. I thought so much about it. Should I not worry so much about this or that? Should I laugh it off like other people were able to around me? I was not sure.
As I’ve gotten older and thought about his expression to me, I know in my heart that he was trying to help: don’t take things so seriously, relax already, stop worrying so much. But how on earth was I to do that? It didn’t and doesn’t seem possible. I am certain that each person is “wired” a particular way and now I know that I was wired (and still am) to take things seriously. People, other than my dad, have said to me, “You’re too sensitive,” which I see as a very close cousin to “Lighten up,” perhaps a sibling to it. These un-endearing sentiments seem to focus on and target something that is at my essence: I feel a lot, maybe too much. I think a lot about things, and people, and their feelings, and maybe too much.
Maybe. But I also think this overwhelming feeling, thinking, worrying, empathizing, is who I am. It’s me. And sometimes people like my dad and others who have mildly criticized or not so mildly judged this way about me, have also benefitted from it. What I mean to say is, maybe I wouldn’t have cared as much, or loved as much, or paid as much attention to someone’s feelings, pain, happiness, sadness, lot in life, suffering, glee, if I lightened up or was less sensitive.
So maybe we’re even. Except that I’ll always feel more.
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