Jellyfish, hot stoves, and the case for Sensitivity

A leadership trait we're encouraged to ignore

I was sitting in my most comfortable chair, legs curled under me, ready for my every-six-months virtual doctor’s visit, poised to complain and lament. 

I have been living with a condition since my teens. It is not life-threatening and, as long as I do the things I’m supposed to do, not a major disruptor in my life. One of those things is taking medication each morning. When I forget, especially if I forget more than one day in a row, my symptoms come back fairly severely, and I can be knocked off track. It’s a real bummer.

Which is what I told my doc: I hate that I am a person who depends on this medication to feel good. I wasn’t complaining about the condition. I was complaining about myself and why I am the way I am: sensitive. 

He responded in a way I typically hate: suggested I have a grateful mindset. In general, if you come at me with “you should be grateful,” my response is typically “you should walk away quickly.” Please do not tell me how to feel. But he said it in a way that I (miraculously) heard. “Amanda, you could be mad about this. You could also be grateful that your body tells you immediately what you need. It speaks up and reminds you to get back on track. It won’t let you ignore it. And this ultimately helps you take better care of yourself.”

I took a deep breath. This doctor has earned my trust through years of support, choice, and demonstrated expertise. I decided to allow his suggestion to change my perspective on this.

I’m what many people would call an overly sensitive person: intellectually, socially, emotionally, and physically. If I see an inconsistency in someone’s thinking, or notice that someone looks uncomfortable, or see that something is unjust, or don’t take my medicine, I feel it - sometimes fairly intensely, often to the point of wanting to act. I have a canary-in-the-coal-mine kind of disposition.

Ours is not a culture that celebrates sensitivity. “Don’t be so sensitive” is uttered as much as “you should be grateful.” I believe life would be much easier for me if I were only the part of the duck you can see on top of the water, rather than also the legs underneath, always working, working, working, even if invisibly.

I have also come to accept it, and even welcome it for the help it has provided. As a parent, I can tell when something is off with my kids, and I inquire. This is often followed by an important conversation, one that builds trust. As a coach, I can tell when a client is thinking about something important, perhaps scared to name it, and I remember to be quiet enough to give them room to surface it. I can feel when it’s time to stop running or to lift a lighter weight because even the little strains in my muscles speak pretty loudly, and this has meant (knock on wood) very few injuries over a lifetime of being fairly active. 

As a consultant, I help companies hear what needs to be heard, see what needs to be seen, and feel what needs to be felt so they can take action that improves their workplaces.

As I’ve been thinking about our values as a company, sensitivity has become front-of-mind. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it listed on a wall or featured on a website. I think it’s one of those traits that may be under-appreciated. But I also think it is part of what makes The Artisan Leader good at what we do. We make workplaces work better in part because we enjoy the process of tuning in to an organization as it is…and to what it has the capacity to be.

Living organisms have ways of sensing and responding to their environments. Humans have thermoception, a way of perceiving heat and cold. Plants use chemical and electrical signals to respond to their surroundings and protect themselves. Even icky sea creatures like jellyfish, which lack a centralized brain, have something called a nerve net that allows them to react to touch and other stimuli.

Sharing this trait with dogs and rosebushes helps me accept it as normal and adaptive. Now, I go so far as to believe it is also one of the keys to effective leadership. It has become a skill I teach to others: something that can be practiced, honed, and leveraged for your development.

One way we can practice sensitivity is through mind-wandering activities. Consume art or music that evokes emotion. Spend five or ten minutes looking at a painting or photograph, just taking it in. Sit outside and look as far away as you can, mapping your landscape. Or, one of my favorites: doodle. It gives the mind room to wander, notice, and make connections without demanding an immediate answer.

Maybe sensitivity isn’t something to toughen ourselves out of. Maybe it is information, a signal that something needs attention, protection, care, or imagination. The goal is not to react to every signal. It is to get better at noticing, interpreting, and choosing what to do with what we notice.

What might become possible if, instead of telling yourself not to be so sensitive, you listened?