Sunflower.

a song to set the scene // found by michael giacchino

It was the sunflower that stopped me in my tracks.

First of all: what is a sunflower doing growing out from the side of my house? I don’t remember planting sunflowers.

And then I looked up: at the bird feeder where many of my flying friends liked to litter, yes, sunflower seeds.

I mean we’re in September here.

How did such a pretty plant grow before my very eyes without so much as an acknowledgement of her existence?

And though slug ridden and dirty with lint from the dryer vent, there she bloomed, despite it all.

It’s time to write. You need to write, my heart whispered when I saw her sunshine color.

Because somehow, and against all odds, there stood this representation of happiness, this embodiment of joy and strength, right outside of a home… struggling.

I was struggling.

On the heels of one lackluster “summer” (weather wise, that is), I’ve lately been saddled with holding some rather heavy weight.

It’s substantial, emotionally.

As someone close to me went through what I know all too well as the “low lows”, I struggled with finding my footing. I wanted to be supportive and caring, but I was also trepiditous with getting too involved in someone else’s battle.

Heavy is the heart of the empath, my gem often told me as I wept in his arms.

Heavy is right.

Stunningly though, something beautiful blossomed out of it.

I believed for the longest time that my sensitivity and depth of emotion was my weakness. People didn’t know how to “deal with me” when I was emotional, and so I was raised to believe that my intense feelings were bad, shameful, and uncomfortable for others.

But now, I understand and accept that being this “keeper of emotions” is actually my superpower.

And it was now what those around me needed.

Everyone was coming to me.

Fix this

Help them

Do something

I’m lost

This is draining me

Having been in that dark place before meant I had experience there, and it didn’t scare me. Chairs toppled over on the floor, thrown pillows, and talk of worthlessness and nobody caring was a mood I was all too familiar with. And so I opened my heart and offered what I knew they needed.

I gave them what I never got: love, care, support, empathy, even just a shoulder to cry on.

I was there, even to simply sit with them. Because I knew how it felt to have people run away from me when I got like that.

I’ve often gotten warned about getting too involved in the deeply messy and intricate personal parts of people’s lives. Whether it’s family, coworkers, friends, or employees, I’ve always been drawn to helping people, and I’ve found that there’s a way to be there for someone without taking on their burden as my own.

Heavy is the heart of the empath doesn’t mean that one’s heart is burdened or weighted with strictly bad things. “Heavy” to me is full and rich and overflowing with all emotions and experiences, good and bad.

It’s not a burden, but a blessing to courageously be with someone who is going through a rough time.

I was able to access that mascara smeared, fidgety kneed, anxious, depressed, and lost person in front of me because I am that mascara smeared, fidgety kneed, anxious, depressed, and lost person.

And so much more.

The day I saw that sunflower, was a rough day. I had been thinking to myself: here we go again.

But seeing that yellow blossom growing outside of my house in the middle of September goes to show that we too, can bloom, blossom, and grow, even in the harshest of environments.

Heavy is the heart of the empath.

And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.