This is my second post on this website, but this time I'm trying to figure something else out.
I've always been sensitive to people's feelings, and I grew up this way. If I was with sad people, I would cry and I'd be giddy with happiness if I was with happy people. Until the past few years, I went through life believing that everyone felt this way. I would reach out to people when I felt they needed sympathy, but they would push me away because the sadness or anger I felt that they were feeling was something they'd been hiding and hadn't worded. I would be devastated for days after seeing something about animal's dying, and nobody could understand why I was upset so easily. An angry finger pointed at me could feel like a shot in the chest.
The summer before grade 9, I finally told someone about the amount of pressure I felt, expecting them to agree with me and understand completely. I was soon told that I was probably just overemotional. I was so confused. All my life I thought that what I'd been going through was something that everyone had to go through. I thought I was a freak. I didn't know what was wrong with me.
Thing continued as they were, but to a higher degree. It was more noticeable. I would be in math class, and even if I completely understood, but because of the confusion my classmates felt. I felt completely and utterly confused! I spent most of my classes reminding myself that I DID get it, and trying to not confuse my feelings with that of others.
We had a speaker come in one day, a Holocaust survivor. Everyone in the room felt grief, a small tear in their eye. I bawled. I felt extreme anger as well as the grief. I cried myself dry, and then after a while I felt grief pressing down on my chest. I couldn't breathe very well, and got dizzy after a bit from lack of oxygen. I had to hold on to the chair in front of me, and the room started spinning. I nearly passed out. Could this have been from the overwhelming grief of my schoolmates?
I go into depressions because of this at times. My mum will go to work, deal with negative people, bring home all the negativity she's soaked up over the day, and as soon as she gets home, no matter how good my day was going, I can tell if she's had a bad day, and I feel choked and depressed all evening.
Am I bipolar? Am I clinically depressed? Do I belong on the funny farm? Or am I an empath? I recently discovered this term, and it seems to describe my experiences, but I wanted to make sure it wasn't just wishful thinking that I don't need psychological help.
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