Soul Letter : Reclaiming My Sensitivity, One Breath at a Time

on releasing shame, remembering softness, and honouring my neurodivergent rhythm.

Dear Beautiful One,

For so long, I tried to tuck parts of myself away, the sensitive parts, the slow parts, the ones that moved to rhythms no one else seemed to hear.

I thought I had to be more linear, more focused, more “together” to belong.
But sensitivity is not a flaw. It’s a language. A compass. A gift I’m only now learning to fully reclaim.

This is a story about shame, yes. But more than that, it’s a story about returning home to myself, one breath at a time

As a mother of four radiant, neurodivergent children, I’ve been immersed in deep learning for many years. Not just reading and researching, but living, holding, witnessing and advocating. So much advocating.

And quietly, quietly… wondering:
What if this is also me?

There were so many nights I’d lie in the dark asking the stars if my own brain moved through the world in a different rhythm too.

I’ve carried a tangled shame, the shame of being “too much” and “not enough,”
of masking with grace (hello, Leo rising) while hiding the aching child inside.

That Leo rising made sense the first time I saw my birth chart.
How I shimmered to protect my softness. How people mistook my shine for simplicity, when underneath, I was the Libra Sun and Aquarius Moon: ever balancing, ever spiralling into the unseen.

Here in Frome, even the coffee shop small talk includes star signs and yet still, I was afraid someone would see my too much or my not enough.

As a child, I was always in trouble.
Not because I was unkind but because I felt everything.
I said the “wrong” thing.

Reacted “too much.”
Got sent to my room. Again.
And again.

I was always on the edge of every friendship group.
The girl with no one to sit with.
Except in Science because those tables seated three.
And I could do the Science.

I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong.
Only that I never felt safe enough to relax.
I was the misfit.
The not-quite-anywhere girl.
The one who knew too much in a way that didn’t fit.

---

And then…
I found my people.
The soft ones, the creative ones, the quirky and the kind.
Many of them now discovering their own neurodivergence, too.

Isn’t it funny how we find each other, even before we find ourselves?

Still, I’ve carried a quieter fear too:

What if I’m not “neurodivergent enough”?

The doubts echoed in the voices of others: “But you’re so empathetic.”
“You’re so organised.”
“Oh, maybe, but you don’t seem very autistic.”
“Are you sure? You should get that confirmed.”
“Maybe you’re just highly sensitive.”
Or my favourite:
“You’re not like this other neurodivergent person I know.”

What they were really saying was:

You’re too much.
You’re not enough.

For years, I worked on myself
but always stopped short of the shadows I feared most:
Shame. Judgement. Perfectionism

I wasn’t ready to look.
Until this year.

After the heartbreak of my marriage ending,
I knew it was time to bring all of me into the light.

To walk with my shadows, not to battle them, but to let them lead me home.

Now, I’m learning to breathe again.
To accept all of me.
To hold my inner child with tenderness, not critique.

To reclaim my softness
not as a flaw,
but as the most sacred part of who I am.

To be here, fully here.
To heal from shame.
To believe that love will find me again
and I will meet it with a heart that knows how to stay open.

I will never forget the look on my ten-year-old son’s face
when he realised Autism was the explanation for the way he experiences the world.
The relief. The joy. The recognition.

He told everyone at school the next day
and the teachers didn’t know what to do with his delight.

Why?

Because the world still struggles with people
celebrating their difference.

I’ve been feeling this discomfort too.
People seem fine with me saying I have ADHD…
until I say I’m also Autistic—AuDHD—and self-diagnosed.

That’s when the unease creeps in.

But I am gently and gracefully making peace with that.

Because I know that owning our truth,
especially when it doesn’t fit in boxes,
helps others feel less alone.

“You do not have to prove your pain

or perform your difference

to be worthy of belonging.”

HeartWild

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🌿 Ways I’m releasing shame from my body and my heart :

• Somatic work, learning to listen to my body

• Affirmations that speak gently to my nervous system

• Journalling as a practice of reparenting and remembering

• Naming what I used to hide

• Sharing this letter with you. Thank you for reading it!

  ---

If you’ve ever felt like the edge-of-the-table person,
the one who didn’t quite fit…
or who wondered if your softness was too much for this world,

I see you.

Your sensitivity is not a mistake.
Your difference is not a diagnosis to fear.
You are not too much.
You are not broken.

You are beautifully, wildly, you.

With rose light + wild roots,
Emily

☽ HeartWild
sacred rhythms for sensitive souls

PS The oracle cards above are from the Medicine Cards that were weaved into being during a year long Medicine Women mentorship I took with my dear friend and mentor Emma Cannon, who passed last April and I deeply miss. I know she’s smiling down, so proud that I’m finally working with the shadow cards.}