A Bothered Woman

I’ve always wanted to be an unbothered woman; the kind who goes with the flow and laughs off inconveniences. 

An unbothered woman travels with carry-on only, while I need to pack an extra pair of jeans (or three), because what if that one pair isn’t quite right on a rainy Tuesday morning and I need to change? 

An unbothered woman gets there when she gets there, while I bite my lip and panic about being five minutes late (even when I know full well that the panic won’t improve my chances). 

An unbothered woman is peaceful and serene, while I am at the mercy of constant internal noise and rumination (did I say that wrong? Are they mad at me?). 

I’m the antithesis of an unbothered woman. I’m a highly sensitive, bothered woman. 

This world is complex and being a sensitive person in it can be hard (bothersome, you might even say). How could I possibly be unbothered when my inner alarm system never sleeps? 

If I put on the wrong t-shirt, it’s a bother. If someone brushes their teeth within hearing distance, it’s a bother. If I’m late, it’s a bother. If someone expects me to eat a raw tomato, it’s a bother. And don’t get me started on the pain of witnessing senseless cruelty (which seems to be abundant) or the ache that signals injustice. I’m really bothered by that. 

I mean … we should all be bothered by that, shouldn’t we? The cruelty and injustice? The pain of our fellow humans? 

I spend my days sitting alongside other highly sensitive people navigating the tricky bits of their lives – the bothers, the pain, the confusion. And honestly? I’m grateful that I’m not an unbothered woman. An unbothered woman wouldn’t feel the empathy I do, and she wouldn’t be driven toward supporting better outcomes for people. I mean, why would she? She’d be too unbothered to care. Being a bothered woman means that I’m paying attention (well, sometimes it means I have a weird sensory aversion to tomatoes, but most of the time it means I’m paying attention). 

Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not so interested in being unbothered. It seems a little less aspirational than on first glance. Being bothered keeps me curious: about the support that I need, the support that I can offer to others, the places and spaces that could benefit from more compassion. Being bothered keeps me awake to my own needs and dreams. Being bothered helps me see alternatives and perspectives that I don’t think I’d notice if I was unbothered. 

So what will I aspire to instead? Being a grounded woman. A present woman. A compassionate woman. A curious woman. A woman who can be bothered and know that that’s ok. A woman who can be bothered and speak up loudly for change. A woman who can be bothered because she dreams of a world where kindness is central and compassion flows easily. A woman who honours her capacity (because those bothers can be costly to my energy!). A woman who sees her bothers compassionately so she can hold compassionate space for others’ bothers too. 

Yes, I’m a highly sensitive, bothered woman.
And that’s (mostly) just the way I like it. 

– Erica.