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How empaths mirror their surrounding #c -PTSD #PTSD #HSP
"Because I am an empath, I see what you can't admit and I sense what you try to bury. I am the mirror you didn’t ask for, the one you can’t escape. You can try to hide your feelings, your intentions, your shadows—honey, I see them all. Your mask is cute, but it’s paper-thin to me. You can’t outsmart the energy that you radiate, and you can’t outrun the reflection I hold up for you.
Here’s the thing you need to know about empaths: We don’t just “feel a little more.” No, we absorb, digest, and inhabit the energy that pours out of you, whether you know it’s leaking or not. Your anxiety? Tastes bitter on my tongue. Your envy? Burns like a shot of cheap whiskey down my throat. Your unspoken heartbreak, your simmering rage, your secret shame—I pick up the scent and wear it like a second skin. I feel it all. I hold it all.
But don’t get it twisted. I am not your emotional dumping ground. I am not here for you to unload your garbage and walk away lighter while I stagger under the weight. No, darling. I’m the wild alchemist. I take in your energy, and I transform it. Sometimes I’ll carry it, but sometimes, when the moon is right and my spirit is on fire, I’ll send it right back to you—gift-wrapped in truth and unapologetic clarity.
You want to know why you feel uneasy around me? Why you get defensive, prickly, or even hostile in my presence? It’s not because I’m rude, or too much, or too intense. It’s because your inner world is showing up on the big screen—the one I hold up, bigger than life, for you to see. You feel exposed, vulnerable, naked. But that’s not my fault. That’s your own authenticity trying to claw its way out.
If you have traits you hate about yourself—the ones you stuff down, deep under layers of “I’m fine” and “It’s nothing”—they rise up like smoke in my presence. I don’t have to say a word. My energy pulls your truth to the surface. You can glare, you can gossip, you can throw shade. But the only thing I’m guilty of is holding up a mirror.
I am the reminder that no matter how hard you try to hide, energy never lies. You can script your words, rehearse your smile, perfect your handshake—none of it matters to an empath. We read the language of the soul, the dialect of the heart, the dialect you forgot you were speaking.
You say I’m “too sensitive,” but maybe you’re just too detached from your own feelings. You say I “take things too personally,” but maybe you’re just uncomfortable that someone can see behind your walls. You say I’m “intense,” but that’s what it feels like to walk around with your truth echoing in my bones.
I am not here to make you comfortable. I am not here to soothe your ego or tiptoe around your wounds. I am here to light up your darkness and call out your shadows. I am the storm that shakes loose your secrets, the wildfire that burns away your bullshit, the earthquake that cracks your mask. And if you can’t handle me, maybe it’s time you handle yourself.
Because the truth is, every time you cringe around me, every time you feel the urge to run, every time you flare up with irritation or dismiss me with a roll of your eyes, that’s your soul screaming to be seen. I didn’t create your discomfort—I just turned on the light.
If you feel an instant dislike for me, maybe it’s not me you’re hating. Maybe it’s the reflection of your own denied truth. Maybe it’s the echo of your own suppressed dreams, your own abandoned power, your own untamed wildness. I am just the canvas. You are the painter.
I am not afraid of your darkness. I am not fazed by your chaos. I am not intimidated by your rage, your grief, your jealousy, or your pain. I have learned to dance with all those energies. I have made peace with my own shadows, and that’s why yours don’t scare me. That’s why I can hold up the mirror—because I’ve stared into it myself.
You can call me intimidating, bitchy, too much, too loud, too deep. I’ll wear those titles like the crown I was born for. Because I know what I am: a soul that refuses to play small, a spirit that won’t dim her light to soothe your insecurity, a heart that won’t apologize for feeling everything so fiercely.
Empaths are not fragile. We are not weak. We are the original badasses. We have survived the wars of the soul, the heartbreak of the world, and still, we rise. We are the seers, the feelers, the truth-tellers, the boundary-breakers. We are the ones who remind you of what you’ve forgotten: your own power, your own pain, your own possibility.
So, if you feel uncomfortable around me, if you want to run or lash out or hide, ask yourself: What am I afraid to see? What am I denying in myself? What am I projecting onto her? Because the longer you hide from your truth, the heavier it gets. And one day, it’ll break free—whether in my presence, or alone in the dark.
I won’t apologize for being the mirror. I won’t shrink for your comfort. I won’t carry what isn’t mine. I’ll reflect it back to you, raw and real, until you’re ready to claim it for yourself. Until you’re ready to stop running. Until you’re ready to meet yourself, eye to eye, heart to heart.
Because that’s what I do. That’s what we empaths do. We bring the truth to the surface. We burn away the lies. We wake up the world, one reflection at a time.
So if you can’t handle the heat, don’t blame the fire. And if you see something you don’t like in my eyes, remember: I’m just the mirror, babe. The real work—that’s all you.
And when you’re finally ready to see yourself, all of yourself, you’ll find me here—standing in the light, unafraid, unapologetic, and absolutely unstoppable. Because that’s what it means to be an empath. That’s what it means to be me.
And honey, that’s power. Real, untamed, wild, bitchy, beautiful power. Own it or run from it—the choice is yours. But know this: The mirror never lies."
-Steve De'lano Garcia
