Why I Don’t Want To Get Thicker Skin

As any guitar player will tell you, the first few weeks of learning how to play this six-stringed instrument are painful. Tender finger skin is being pressed firmly against metal strings. If the dedicated budding musician is willing to stick it out, eventually the skin on the fingertips hardens into calluses. As time moves on, the skin becomes rough, desensitized, thick.

Thick skin.

I chose to be an opinion writer and with that pursuit comes the inevitable emails and comments from people really unhappy with what I have had to say. That’s part of the territory; I accept it. Most of the time negative comments cause laughter. Often the person visits what I call “The Land of Missing the Point,” and some have valid points even if I disagree.

But, honestly, sometimes negative feedback really gets to me. When it happens, it always stems from somebody I know choosing to attack me personally instead of my writing or my argument. If I have the “audacity” to confront this type of bully-like behavior I inevitably get this: “You’re a writer, get thicker skin” AKA “You’ve caught me and pointed out my mean-spirited attack on your personal life. Instead of apologizing, I’m going to make it your problem– you must just have thin skin.”

Then I doubt myself. “Was I too thinned skin? Do I need to toughen up?” But the last time this happened, it hit me – I don’t want to get thicker skin. With thicker skin comes hardness, lack of feeling, coarseness, and desensitization. This is a very useful tool against pain.  Just like those guitar calluses. Without them, nobody could become a guitar guru. In the same way, this world is painful; people say mean things and tougher skin would be a good tool against pain. But what makes me human is my ability to feel emotion, even the difficult ones. Emotions are indicators that something isn’t right.  When people say unkind things about my personal life, something isn’t right and my emotions let me know that to be true.

Even more, if I become hardened, if I lose my sense of feeling, if my skin becomes too thick – how will I treat those around me? In pursuit of toughening up will I lose my humanity? Hardened people are not kind people. Instead, I can look around me and say “Oh you have scars? Guess what, I have them too.” I want to be compassionate, I want to be kind, and I want to be empathetic. I’m not willing to sacrifice that for thick skin. If I close myself off to anything that may hurt me, I will have closed myself off from people.

Instead of thicker skin, maybe the better advice is one of my favorite quotations: “What other people think of you is none of your business.” If somebody says something hurtful, I can feel hurt. I’m a human; I want to feel. But I can acknowledge that their opinions of me have little to do with me and much to do with them. And then, I can let it go, and I can go about my real business. Which isn’t fretting over their opinions. My feelings are allowed to get hurt and the point isn’t to learn how to never feel hurt. My feelings just shouldn’t stay hurt. Not for that person’s sake, but for mine. I have other business to accomplish.

So when daggers are thrown my way, my skin will pierce. When fire is lit, my skin will burn. I won’t leave this life unscarred. But who, in the end, is the stronger person? The one who avoided pain entirely by thickening their skin, by bulldozing through life without feeling? Or the one who felt the pain, victoriously survived, and kept their compassion and humanity in tact?

Even though I haven’t played much guitar over the past year, the skin on my left hand fingertips are still thick and lacking in feeling.  My hope, my prayer for my life is those fingers remain the only desensitized, hardened part of me.  No more thick skin.

Photo by Bethany Paige Photography