I Guess I'm the OG Softy

I don’t think marshmallows have complex thoughts.

But if they did, I doubt they’d curse their plush, pillow-like bodies for being “too soft.”

Their gooey, squishy nature is exactly what makes them perfect. No one wants a hard marshmallow.

Except maybe dentists.

Do you think a pillow ever dreams of being concrete?

A soft pretzel wishes it were one of its hard cousins?

A blanket wants to be something less… comforting?

Of course not.

So when one of my students called me “too soft,” why did I treat it like a flaw instead of a fact?

Why did I wish, even for a second, that I were a harsher, more intimidating version of myself?

Why did I replay every moment I led with empathy, care, and compassion, and wish I hadn’t?

I already feel like Ms. Trunchbull whenever I raise my voice. Disorienting, considering I’m a new teacher who identifies far more with the understanding, sweet Miss Honey.

Then I remembered.

I remembered who I am.

I am a Highly Sensitive Person.

I had just finished writing a book about discovering and fully accepting that part of myself.

So I flipped the script.

Instead of shaming myself, I celebrated it. I leaned into it. I chose to love the sensitive person I am.

When I did that, something shifted.

My shoulders straightened. My heart stopped pounding in my ears. My chest felt lighter.

I accepted one of life’s harder truths: not everyone will like me, and that’s okay.

As a lifelong people-pleaser, that truth has been a difficult pill to swallow. But it’s also shown me something else. The only opinion that truly matters is my own.

Do I like myself?

Yes.

Do I like how I run my classroom?

Yes.

Do I need to let most comments from others go in one ear and out the other?

Yes.

For the first time in nearly 40 years, I’m starting to see my own beauty. I’m starting to value what I bring to the table. The way I make others feel seen, heard, and loved.

Why would I change any of that to appease one person?

I wouldn’t.

Neither should you.

No one apologizes for a soft-serve cone. Why should I apologize for being soft? 🍦🤎

I’m the OG Softy

“I’ll have chocolate with chocolate sprinkles, please.”

As a kid, I knew exactly what I liked, and I ordered it with pride. Chocolate and more chocolate.

No fear.

No embarrassment.

No deviations.

My usual spilled out of my mouth every night on Ocean City’s boardwalk.

“Here you go, young lady.”

As the ice cream stand worker handed me my masterpiece, my chocolate-brown eyes lit up.

I licked the sprinkles, turning the cone slowly in my hand. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to watch the stray jimmies fall.

The soft ice cream ran down my fingers, but I didn’t care. I was having a moment with my cone, and it was glorious.

We walked to the benches facing the ocean. I sat on the concrete wall, legs dangling, just far enough apart to let the sprinkles fall into the sand instead of onto my bare skin.

I didn’t know it then, but I was living in a perfect moment.

Eating my favorite chocolate creation at the beach, sitting beside two parents who loved me.

Life didn’t get much better than that.

But somewhere along the way, I let life get the better of me.

I stopped ordering what I wanted so confidently.

I started scanning the room. Adjusting.

Softening in a different way.

A way that wasn’t fully me. At some point, I lost sight of who I was and what I wanted.

It’s been a long time coming, but I’m finally finding my way back.

Back to someone I’m calling the “OG Softy.”

I spent most of my adult life trying to be someone I’m not. Now, I’m letting that version of me drip off the cone, no regrets.

I’m proud to be a softy. And if you are too, you’re in the right place.

This blog is my way of honoring that softness, and refusing to apologize for it.

Soft Place to Fall

“A weak or foolish person.”

“A person who is sentimental or easy to please.”

“A person who lacks stamina or endurance.”

These are society’s definitions of a Softy.

I don’t know about you, but they don’t feel accurate to me.

Not even close.

So I’m here to set the record straight.

I’m going to show what it actually means to be a Softy.

The kind of fortitude, perseverance, and courage it takes to feel everything so deeply, and still keep going.

I’m going to show what it’s like to be wired this way.

How we take in the world around us.

How we process even the smallest shifts.

How we carry things others might not even notice.

This is a place for the so-called weak, sentimental, and foolish.

This is our voice.

Welcome.