Sometimes, loving my daughter feels like looking in a mirror. Her expressions, mannerisms, and those introspective moments remind me of myself. Often, I think, “You’re the part of me that won’t need therapy later.” But then reality hits; she’s in middle school, and who doesn’t carry a backpack full of emotional baggage from those years?
Take, for instance, that embarrassing incident at a haunted house with friends when I was her age. I was so frightened that I had an accident. The ride home was awful, clutching a plastic bag meant for candy—none of which I had, of course. Middle school can be incredibly harsh.
Just a few months ago, my daughter came home in tears, recounting how hurtful words had humiliated her in front of her peers. She described the sting of their comments and the way they pierced her heart, words that would linger in her memory for years to come. In that moment, I held her tightly as she expressed her emotions, needing to release her pain in the safety of our home.
She’s gentle and perceptive, and she’s intelligent. The world may urge her to develop a thicker skin, but if she’s truly brave, she’ll understand that her sensitivity is not a flaw. Instead, she’ll need to learn how to transform her hurt into a source of strength, rooted in her faith, rather than becoming hardened. This is a lesson I can’t impart for her, though I wish I could.
Throughout her early years, I’ve wished to cushion her falls to prevent her from getting hurt. Recently, she was thrilled about her new volleyball kneepads, which were meant to soften the impact when she inevitably fell. However, while they protect her knees, I realize I can’t shield her from emotional wounds, nor can I ease the hurtful words that may come her way.
What I can do is teach her that being sensitive is a unique strength, one that she doesn’t need to apologize for. I can share my own stories of falling without a safety net and how I’ve continued to stand tall despite the challenges.
Instead of telling her, “Don’t cry,” I encourage her to let it out for as long as she needs. I can’t pinpoint when I learned that softness isn’t synonymous with weakness, but I know it’s when I recognized my own fears of emotional numbness that I embraced my sensitivity as a vital part of being alive. If it weren’t for the times I stumbled, I wouldn’t appreciate the feeling of getting back up.
I’ve realized it’s time to shift my approach. Instead of constantly urging her to “be careful,” I want to inspire her to “be courageous.” She should have the bravery to fall, to cry, and to experience her feelings fully without fear.
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Summary
In a world that often pressures children to toughen up, it’s crucial to teach sensitivity as a strength rather than a weakness. Through shared experiences and emotional support, parents can guide their children to embrace their feelings and navigate challenges with courage.