Highly Sensitive

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I have been reading a book titled “The Highly Sensitive Person - How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You” by Elaine N. Aron, Ph.D. So far it has illuminated inside of me a process that has been incredibly healing. I qualify, and am most certainly highly sensitive. In the beginning the book highlights that even as young children or babies, we can exhibit signs of being highly sensitive. For me it looked like an incredibly acute sense of smell, that could result in triggering vomiting. It looked like regular nausea and motion sickness; I often felt sick in the car, the plane, or even on the tire swing at school. In stressful moments, often when I was required to do a chore (when what I needed to do was rest and recuperate from a busy day), I would develop a stomach ache. I also threw regular tantrums from when I was a toddler to when I was an older child. Hunger was not necessarily a blood sugar thing, but could result in unrest, and my mother often said things like “Emily is acting up, give her some food.” 

I was very intelligent as a child, and I believe that I figured out early on that my sensitivities were not met with the greatest enthusiasm. What was met with enthusiasm was when I was performing and making people laugh, when I acted outgoing and confident amongst my parents friends, or when I was achieving at school. So I became a performer, and learned to stuff my sensitivities away. They would still crop up, but we often made jokes about my ill-opportune stomach aches, or my vomiting which would often happen on the plane and when traveling (we traveled a ton as my mom worked for the airline and loved to get away to Hawaii, or later international trips with us kids). I acted tough and pretended that my sickness, which was largely in response to stress, was no big deal. I could handle it. This stretched into my adolescence and teens, when I would tell no-one that I was being bullied at school or soccer, though I was suffering greatly, and when I headed off to college to an ivy league school out of state. In my teens, mental illness had cropped up in the way of depression, anxiety and an eating disorder. Some of it was addressed, but I was eager to get back to achieving and performing. I left for college even though I was not well, and my Mother, also a highly sensitive person, knew something was not right.

At college in California, I stayed true to form. I enrolled in senior level classes, taking a full load plus auditing some art classes. I ran cross country, and trained for crew, of which practice started at 4am. I did not make friends well outside of my cross country team, as California was a culture shock from my sleepy and rainy Seattle. Soon, I was in a full fledged psychotic break and left college to return to my parents home in Seattle. I met my husband in those recovery months, and we have been together for 23 years and counting. I have dealt with my mental illness throughout these many years, sometimes doing better, and sometimes struggling greatly. I eventually gave up on school after attending a couple quarters at Evergreen State College in WA, many courses at various community colleges, and an art institute. 

My husband has always said I was very sensitive, but mostly I chalked up my sensitivities to my mental illness, until now. Now I am exploring deeply that I am this person, and that suppressing this person has led to mental illness, great struggles, and a lot of pain. I have a solution. If I begin to listen to what my sensitive being is telling me, it will allow for recovery on a daily basis. I will see that I do not need to become overwhelmed or symptomatic, and that I can catch it earlier and nurture myself. I can see my sensitivity as strength, and find where it will lead me. I am still at the very beginning of this journey, and reading this book, and I plan to study it and myself with care, so that my insight may grow on the subject. As you have read above, a lot has surfaced. The pieces are connecting. I am beginning to know my true self by reflecting back on these instances in my youth and adulthood, and realizing that my sensitivities were showing me something. They do not need to result in illness. I can listen.

I am highly sensitive. Books and TV can become overstimulating. I do not want to travel at all. Too much exercise can result in a need for intense recovery. I can handle busy days by meeting them head on, as I learned to do early on in my life, but then it is prudent that I take a day or two to gather myself and heal. I always thought that this was a symptom of my schizoaffective disorder. I also leaned on alcohol to toughen up and get me through, though now am no longer drinking. Now I am discovering that there is a solution. I feel more like myself than ever before, and have begun a profound journey in putting myself back together. Honoring my sensitivity is resulting in feeling my true self, understanding my past, and knowing who I am on a deeper level and in a loving light.