Limited edition

As I sit and write this article, my husband is lying on the couch, mowing down on a bag of Doritos.

I love Doritos. I just can’t eat them. Well, it’s not that I can’t, it’s just that if I do, I have to make a choice: enjoy a few pleasurable moments of those delectable triangles, or endure a four-day “would-someone-please-cut-my-head-off” migraine.

It’s the same thing with almost all alcohol. Over the years I have been trying to find an alcoholic beverage that I can drink with my hubs for those special occasions, but one that won’t give me a headache. And every time we thought we finally found one, sure enough, I would start complaining about getting a bad headache afterward. Again. So this year, I finally decided that drinking any type of alcohol was just not worth the headache. Literally.

But I still wanted my own special drink that I could put in a wine glass and enjoy with my husband. So one day I walked down the aisles of Walmart, and there they were: Aquafina flavoured waters that come in an array of colours and exotic flavours – like Fuji Apple Pear (with vitamins!). I bought a load of them, put them in the fridge and told my husband he could not touch them because they were just for me. Just my special, yummy waters.

They gave me headaches.

So now I drink tap water with a squeeze of lemon.

Sensitive in every way

It wouldn’t be so bad if certain foods and additives were the only things I am sensitive to. But that’s not the case.

I can’t wear perfume. I’ll get a headache. If I sleep on my pillow wrong, I’ll get a headache. If I don’t eat on time, get enough sleep or the barometric pressure swings in the wrong direction, I’ll get a headache.

And my sensitive body goes hand-in-hand with a sensitive personality. I tend to pick up on feelings, vibes and atmospheres. Negative comments, criticism and even scary movies do not roll off my back; they stick to me like Velcro.

Sensitive on purpose

I used to rage against God for making me so sensitive. Because it’s not easy being this way. Sure, there is a plus side: my giftings lean toward the creative and empathic; art, drama and literature are areas I have a deep love for; my intuition is strong.

But in this dog-eat-dog world we live in, I often get hammered. (Obviously not with alcohol.) But my sensitive heart easily bleeds. I can get depressed.

And I can’t eat Doritos.

Lately, however, I’ve been wondering if God intentionally created me with a number of sensitivities. You know, that he created me to be one of his “Limited Editions.” Maybe because he knew, oh he knew, that I was going to be one of his souls who would struggle mightily with the limitations of my humanity.

It’s true. I hate feeling limited. I actually sometimes think I hate being human. Because I detest the feeling of being “in need.” When I feel needy, I start to loathe myself. It just feels so darn vulnerable and unsafe.

I actually think there’s a part of me that believes that I should be without needs. That if I was a better Christian I’d be stronger, more “together.” It’s like I keep hoping that one day I’ll wake up and I won’t need sleep or food or people. Someone’s mean to me? No problem: woman of steel. Someone close to me dies? I’ll be fine. One day I will be strong enough to no longer be shaken, no longer be tempted, and live in a world where the laundry is finally done and a dirty dish will never appear.

And so, perhaps God created me with such sensitivities to keep reminding me of my proper place. That I am not God; I am a mere human who needs him – a God with no limitations – to rely on in order to live in this hard world. No matter how many times I try to drink wine, sleep on fumes or live without him, I will suffer the effects.

My sensitivities remind me that I am fragile and finite, and they continually give me a big dose of reality.

Now if they could only just give me a big dose of Doritos. . . .


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