By Laura Moore

Picture
I saw this electronic postcard yesterday and it made me laugh.

Then it made me air pump my right fist, say "yeah it is" under my breath.

Empathetic bad asses unite, I thought, smiling. 

Then I clicked "share" on Facebook.  

I watched the image load.

And as the wheel turned, as my name slowly stapled itself to the picture--slowly endorsed the motto as truth--I felt regret creep into my gut. 

My mind trounced back through my moments of deep-feeling sensitivity. Moments when I felt anything but strong and super-heroish. Like when I watch this Folgers commercial. Or this Dove one. Or this Always mini-documentary-like video that tends to reduce me to a slobbering mess.

Maybe I shouldn't have promoted deep feeling. 

Maybe I shouldn't have linked those words to my name.

Maybe I shouldn't have broadcasted--to the whole world--my tendency to be hypersensitive (or at least to the friends who have access to my notifications).

Panicked, I clicked on the edit button, and I hovered over the option that would remove it from my page.

Right before I hit click though--right before I erased all traces of its connection to me--my friend Annie hit like, and a few moments later, several other people did as well. 

I could feel the cyber pat on the back. I could feel the energy of empathy, or connection, or the sheer luck that people accidentally hit "like" when they meant to hit "close." 

Regardless, that one little "like" made my doubt run dry. 

There are more of us out there, I remember thinking. 

Then I removed my hovering finger. 

I cleared my mind to think of all of my empathetic superheroes, the people who sat down--and continue to sit down--beside me during my difficult moments. People who hold my hand, who listen, who love my heart even when it is shattered. The people who feel my successes and joys with the same fervor I feel. The people who listen to me, root for me, encourage me, and support me along. 

I thought about how far they've carried me. 

How deeply they've healed me. 

How much confidence they've given me. 

How much I've appreciated the way they've instilled a feeling of belonging, of understanding, of interconnectedness. 

I thought about how much they've mattered in my life--how much they've taught me to survive--and I realized my first instinct, my first read on that silly social media postcard was spot on:

Deep-feeling people rock. 

They're badass super heroes. 

Even if they cry. 

Even if they shake. 

Even if it seems like they're weak. 

Their tears temper dust, they fill empty wells, and they remind us to be thankful. 

Their tears open eyes, they demand attention, they shake our shoulders into action. 

Their tears are magic. 

And their hearts are gold.

And gosh darn it, if I'm being honest, I really want to be one of them.

 


Comments

Here is a lot of superhero because we have to maintain some thing unique and better for our daily life things in which we have make some thing unique for fashion.

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08/01/2016 1:44am

I cleared my mind to think of all of my empathetic superheroes, the people who sat down--and continue to sit down--beside me during my difficult moments too! I feel the same!

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10/06/2016 4:52am

Well, yeah, this postcard is amazing. It's pretty funny indeed.

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