“Chicken-hearted” or highly sensitive?

Sadly, I was at a cousin’s funeral earlier this week.  He died suddenly and unexpectedly, leaving everyone shocked.

He and I shared a love of sport, and some traits – jokers sometimes; more often deep, reflective and easily emotional.  Kindred spirits of sorts.

At the wake and beforehand, I heard him described as “chicken-hearted”.   It was said by people very close to him who I know loved him dearly.

But the description didn’t sit right with me.  It was to do with how affected he was by things.  And every time someone said it, I countered with, “He was sensitive”.

On each occasion, the speaker did a double-take, acknowledged he was indeed sensitive and then reverted back to “chicken-hearted” later!

A theme emerged: how quickly and often he got tearful.  Two of his friends told me a night out wasn’t complete without them all “having a good greet at the end of the bar”.   The greet (Scottish word for a cry) always started by my cousin.

That did make me laugh!  And it was a mirror – a night out isn’t a night out for me without a deep conversation.

But the HSP in me wondered if I was being too sensitive about “chicken-hearted”. Maybe my cousin used the term about himself?  Maybe it didn’t have the negative connotations I thought?

But dictionaries defined it as timid, cowardly, fearful.  Synonyms included words like nervous, anxious and scared.  Not what I associated with him.

So I’ll stick with sensitive.  And celebrate that he and I were similarly so – crying at TV shows, welling up at being understood and misunderstood, and caring more deeply and longer about things than most.

I’m sad we never talked about our sensitivity: its gifts, challenges, colours and shades; and the fact we HSPs are 1 in 5 of the population.  Oh, to have that conversation now…

Instead I got emotional as I spoke at the funeral.  Just like he would have.  I’d practised my tribute umpteen times and thought I’d conquered the tears.  But they came in waves with my words.  Because he mattered, and I’ve stopped hiding my sensitivity.

I’ll remember your energy, big cousin.  The twinkle in your eye.  Your human predictability and unpredictability.  Those who call you ‘chicken-hearted’ loving you to your very core.

And I’ll leave the final word on your sensitivity to you.  As you said when you opened the door to me that last time, “It’s you!”.