A powerful reflection on why screen violence triggers deep emotion—and how empathy, trauma, and purpose shape a healing path forward.

I’ve always known I was sensitive, but it wasn’t until recently that I began to understand just how deeply certain things affect me. One of those things is violence on screen—TV, film, news, even social media clips. Every time I witness someone being hurt, even in fiction, my body tenses. My breath shortens. My heart races. And I’m left feeling rattled and unsettled long after the scene has ended.

For a long time, I thought I was being overly emotional or “too soft.” But as I began to reflect more deeply—and through my work with Healing Through Love—I came to understand something incredibly important: this reaction isn’t a flaw. It’s part of my story.

As a survivor of domestic abuse, I’ve lived the reality of fear and helplessness. I know what it feels like to walk on eggshells, to feel unsafe in your own skin, to question your worth. And even though I’ve come a long way in my healing journey, there are still things—like violent scenes on TV—that take me right back.

It’s not just memory. It’s my nervous system responding as if the threat is real.

But it’s more than that, too. I’m an empath. I don’t just see pain—I feel it. I’ve always had the ability to sense the emotions of others, to connect with their stories in a way that runs deeper than words. It’s a beautiful gift that helps me connect with the guests on my podcast, the clients I coach, and the survivors I support. But it can also be overwhelming—especially when I’m confronted with suffering I can’t stop or control.

There’s also something else I’ve discovered: my deep discomfort is a signal of my values. I stand for safety, healing, and empowerment. I’ve dedicated my life and voice to giving others the chance to be heard, to feel safe, to rise. So when I see violence—even fictional—it goes against everything I believe in. It feels like an affront to the world I’m trying to help create.

This sensitivity isn’t a weakness. It’s a compass. It points me back to my purpose.

And if you feel the same—if certain images or stories make you feel like you want to look away, cry, or take a breath—you’re not broken. You’re human. You care deeply. You’ve likely been through things that have left a lasting imprint. And your body is simply remembering, protecting, alerting.

In those moments, I’ve learned to pause. I close my eyes. I place my hand over my heart. And I whisper, “You are safe now.” I ground myself. I return to the present. And then, when I’m ready, I turn that emotion into action. I speak. I support. I advocate.

Because if I can feel this deeply, I can also love deeply. I can hold space for healing. I can help others rise. And that is a gift I will never again see as a burden.

So, the next time something on screen shakes you to your core, I invite you to lean in with compassion. You’re not weak. You’re awake. You’re alive. And your heart is still fighting for the world we all deserve.

You are not too much—you are exactly enough.