I’ve never compared myself to a plant before. The closest I’ve come is my father’s nickname for me: Stilts.
But today I found my plant. It’s called a sensitive plant. Actually I didn’t find it, my friends adopted uncle Dean did. Dean pegged me. This plant, when you touch it, moves. When you shake it, it’s leaves shrink in. It’s such a precious plant.
I didn’t used to be a sensitive guy but thanks to some tough times that forced me to look deep and good friends that went deep with me, I’ve learned to open my heart to the world.
But, like this plant, I’ve got thorns. I am open but not that open. I don’t let many people get close and you have to be pretty intentional and trustworthy to really get through to me. I’m always suspicious and with some people I remain forever suspicious and untrusting (even though it may look like I’m trusting, I’ve always got my thorns out).
I forgot that I’m an odd kind of sensitive sometimes. It was only listening to listening to Sleeping at Last’s enneagram 7 podcast with the wonderful Chris Heurtz that I remembered my odd combination of care and skepticism. Chris noted how 7’s often seem open and trusting but really only trust a select few. I felt so heard in those words.
I’m not an easy man to understand, even for myself. I hesitate to trust for reasons that are unknown to me. I’m always afraid I’m going to get trapped or caught. I’ve always got my escape routes, even if I seem present and engaged and committed.