This week, and for the next few weeks, the newsletter is going to be ~twice+ as long as my regular ~500 words, because I'm learning and realizing things at a dizzying pace right now. Thank you to the people willing to read it all, and no worries to those who aren't. :) But I hope you don't unsubscribe — I plan to return to shorter lengths in about a month.
After reading The Highly Sensitive Person by Dr. Elaine Aron and receiving the highest possible score on her highly sensitive quiz, I'm reevaluating my entire life — past, present, and future — in light of the new information that my nervous system is more sensitive to stimuli compared to the nervous systems of 80% to 85% of the population.
I'm untangling threads and trying to determine, what have I done in life because I wanted to do it, and what have I done because I thought I should do it, in order to feel "tough," "strong," "healthy," or "normal?" In order to try and make my body act like the other 80% of bodies, or make it conform to a world designed for them? Jenara Nerenberg labels high sensitivity a neurodivergence.* How much of my life was built from trying to feel and appear neurotypical?
I recognize that I began equating sensitivity with weakness at a young age, early elementary school or perhaps younger. In the first semester of kindergarten, I wouldn't speak at school. At all. Although I can't remember what that felt like now, just standing off to the side watching everyone, I do remember that after I'd warmed up, I felt ashamed by my previous "shyness," and vowed not to be the weird kid who's too overwhelmed to participate ever again.
I now recognize that as my personality developed, there were two dominant threads of influence: my inherently sensitive nature, and the part of me hell-bent on fighting that sensitivity, on proving that I was no more sensitive than anyone else. (Which, of course, never could've succeeded, because, as my 27/27 HSP score reveals, I've likely often been the most sensitive person in the room).
I recall working hard to "train" myself not to cry as a little kid, and feeling proud when I could hold back tears after being either emotionally or physically hurt. Similarly, I felt disdain toward the kids who did cry easily or show sensitivity, because I felt like if I was holding it back, so should they. I viewed "weakness" as something shameful to overcome as quickly as possible. (I feel like I need to note — my parents didn't tell me to do this! I think, probably because I was an HSP, I just picked up on the broader cultural messages more readily).
At times when I recognized I'd let "weakness" dictate my actions, I felt deeply ashamed and vowed to never let it control me in that way again. Because of this mentality, at a young age, I developed the habit of not honoring my sensitivity. Instead, I repeatedly threw myself into situations that made me over-stimulated or anxious, throughout childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, to demonstrate to myself that what I characterized as fear or weakness (but now recognize was mainly sensitivity), couldn't control me.
Much of "me" developed as a result of this effort to prove myself. I was a kid who made a point of staying up the latest at sleepovers and choosing "dare" in games of truth or dare. And later, a teenager and early 20-something who made a point of drinking as much alcohol as the largest guy at the party.
I watched movies that made me nauseous or brought me to the brink of a panic attack, not because I was a thrill-seeker — though I'm sure that's how it looked externally — but because I didn't want to feel like there was anything I couldn't handle. Even many of the decisions I made later in life that honored my sensitivity to an extent, like to become a writer and artist, were actions taken in part to prove to myself that my earlier fears couldn't rule me.
As I reevaluate my history and unpeel these different layers, I realize I don't truly know what my likes and dislikes are at this point in time. Because my "hard" mind developed out of such vehement opposition to my "soft" body, so many of my preferences are not at all conducive to my sensitive nature. I mean, I truly thought I liked drinking alcohol and watching violent movies, when now it seems obvious I was (just barely) tolerating them all along.
As I mentioned last week, I now see I've been abusing my sensitive nervous system for decades. In recent years, I've been a little gentler toward it, but still, even this so-called gentleness has largely been me compromising with my sensitivity rather than truly honoring it. I've conceded to its demands by reducing stimulation to a level that my body could tolerate, but no lower. That is not the same as building a life around the amount of stimulation my body would actually enjoy and thrive in, which is what I want to do moving forward.
As I begin to approach my life with a new, full acceptance of my sensitive nature, with the idea that it actually is good and healthy, not "soft" or "weak," to honor my sensitivity, I'm realizing so much more in my life probably has to change.
For example, I've begun sifting through my wardrobe with this new lens. Instead of asking what clothes my body can tolerate, or what clothes my mind thinks are cool or fun, I'm asking what actually, on a physical level, feels good? Whew. The answer is: not much of what I currently own!
Over the many, many years I spent denying my sensitive nature, I chose not only the clothes I wear, but the foods I eat, the entertainment I consume, the friends I connect with, the hobbies I participate in, the career goals I pursue, my morning routine, my evening routine, the home decor I'm consistently surrounded by — everything! I thought I chose these things while being true to myself rather than conforming, but I realize now I was only being true to parts of myself, while denying the biggest, most important part: my sensitive body.
A clickbait-style article title comes to mind: "What Do I Actually Like? The Answer May Surprise Me!" To be middle-aged and figuring out what feels like such basic things is dizzying, but also gives me hope. Much of my life has felt very, very difficult, and I feel like I've just uncovered a big part of why. If I course correct, maybe it'll be a little smoother sailing moving forward.
As I've written in past newsletters, through listening to my body, I've already realized that many of my lifestyle habits don't suit me well. But the high sensitivity concept ties it all together, acting as a unifying theory that explains not only why so many things I thought I liked don't work for me, but why the various things that have helped me over the years — like walking, art-making, meditation, therapy, and pacing — worked.
Understanding that I'm an HSP also reframes what I've been unknowingly doing as I've been listening to my body in these recent months: dismantling the masking-as-neurotypical life I'd been living, and rebuilding a new, neurodivergence-honoring life that's a better fit.
*Not all experts agree that high sensitivity is a neurodivergence. For example, some categorize it as a form of temperament. Personally, I do view it as a neurodivergence, and view this argument against it being a neurodivergence contradictory and largely based on a misunderstanding of neurodivergence and a fear of people viewing HSPs as having something "wrong" with them.
I am liquidating my Etsy shop inventory! For the next month, I’m running a sale that’s 30% off 3 items, 40% off 4 items, 50% off 5 items, 60% off 6 items, and 70% off 7+ items. If you’re interested in postcards, stickers, or greeting cards I designed, check it out.