What If Being “Too Sensitive” Is a Strength?

“You’re just too sensitive.”

Raise your hand if you’ve ever been told the above. It’s a phrase many of my clients have heard for most of their lives—usually spoken to them with an accompanying eye roll, a sigh, groan, or in the middle of an argument that left them feeling dismissed, misunderstood, and ashamed of their emotions.

And you know what? That pisses me off. So in today’s post, I want us to consider a reframe -

What if being “too sensitive” can actually be a strength?

Sensitivity as a Form of Intelligence

Sensitivity can be falsely reduced to reactivity, but I see it as a form of awareness and potential attunement. Sensitivity is a vital part of who I am as a therapist; my own sensitivity helps me connect with my clients on a deep level.

Sensitive people may notice subtleties others miss. They’re often the first to sense a change in the tone of a conversation, the unspoken needs of a friend, or the emotional atmosphere in a room. They feel deeply, think critically, and care intensely.

We can reframe this sensitivity as a type of wisdom and inner knowing. In therapy, I’ve watched clients who were once shamed for their sensitivity start to embrace it instead. They show up as people who speak up, share the truth, call out injustices, set healthy boundaries, create moving art, and who are fiercely loyal and brave. Their profound empathy enriches their lives and the lives of others.

How Sensitivity Gets Pathologized—Especially in Women

So why is it seen as a problem or a weakness? Well, we live in a culture that highly values productivity, which may require a level of emotional detachment and developing a “thick skin.” So if someone can’t keep up with the grind, wants to exist outside of it, and is frequently experiencing intense emotions, it can be pathologized.

Women, in particular, are conditioned to carry emotional labor without complaint. When they do express emotion, they’re “dramatic,” or, historically, “hysterical.” When they set boundaries, they’re asking for “too much” or being “unreasonable.” When they cry at work, they’re “unprofessional.” And when they speak up about injustice, they’re “overreacting.”

As Jenara Nerenberg writes in Divergent Mind (this month’s book club read), these gendered expectations play a role in how we pathologize traits like sensitivity, emotional depth, and sensory awareness. Many women learn to mask their internal experiences and tone themselves down to avoid being seen as “difficult.” (Which Nerenberg poses has contributed to the underdiagnosing of neurodivergence in girls and women.) But these very traits are often signs of intelligence, insight, and intuitive leadership.

In my office, when these sensitive women sit on my couch, I see depth and wisdom. It can take a lot of unlearning to start to be able to reconnect with that discerning, sensitive part of themselves and stop hating and rejecting it. My hope is that we can start to understand it as a strength and a compass, pointing us in the direction of what we deeply value and need. And that, at a larger level, we don’t dismiss folks who can provide this level of insight to communities, projects, and organizations.

A Culture Built for the Middle

As Nerenberg explains, so much of our world is built around the middle of the bell curve—designed for people who fall into an average range of emotional expression, social energy, and sensory tolerance. Those with more intense, nuanced, or divergent ways of being are often pressured to adapt, mask, or suppress their needs to survive and not be pathologized or rejected.

“What we pathologize in one culture may be seen as wisdom in another.”
—Jenara Nerenberg, Divergent Mind

So what if we could expand beyond the center of the curve and intentionally create spaces that are more accessible for different neurotypes?

We can see neurodivergence for what it is —a difference. More perspectives, more ways of being and understanding. High sensitivity and nonlinear ways of thinking provide more diversity of being and provide needed perspectives.

Imagine a world where emotional attunement, deep processing, and sensory intuition were seen as gifts—where workplaces were built with quiet spaces, schools taught emotional literacy, and difference wasn’t just tolerated, but celebrated.

I wonder how we can start to move more toward that imagined world. What do we need to make spaces more welcoming of sensitive nervous systems? What would you find helpful or needed in that world?

Sensitivity as a Strength

In my practice, I see sensitivity show up as a strength every single day:

• The person who cries easily and quickly notices when others are struggling.

• The one who needs more rest and when rested can bring razor-sharp insight to the conversation.

• The adult who was shamed for being “too much” as a child and now recognizes their emotional intuition as their greatest asset—in caregiving, art-making, teaching, and advocacy.

We live in a world that desperately needs more sensitivity—not less.

We need people who can feel the urgency of climate change, who can notice when someone is being left out, who can name injustice when others look away.

We need people who are willing to care deeply, even when it hurts.

What If Sensitivity Was Never Something to Outgrow?

So, if you’ve ever tried to push down your feelings, numb your intuition, or shrink yourself to seem “less sensitive,” I want you to know:

There is nothing wrong with your sensitivity, and there never was.

It hurts to be sensitive in a wounded, chaotic world. How can you turn toward your sensitivity with more compassion and less judgment or censure? How can you use your sensitivity for growth, depth, and change? What do you need to care for your sensitive nervous system? How can you honor it?

As Jenara Nerenberg reminds us, these traits have long been misunderstood not because they are signs of being broken, but because we’ve been using the wrong lens to see them. When we learn to shift that lens, we can create needed change.

Looking for a space where your sensitivity is welcomed, not shamed? I work with women and neurodivergent folks who are tired of feeling “too much” and ready to feel more at home in themselves.
Learn more about therapy or reach out for a consultation here.