Finding Out That I'm An HSP & Self Care Talk

All my life I have been emotional.

I remember feeling such rage at my little sister when we were kids. I remember crying over the smallest things. I remember being in elementary school and noting how strange it was that I didn't cry when all of my friends did at fifth grade graduation, but that I sobbed over things that in comparison, didn't seem worth crying about.

I never really thought there was anything wrong with me until I got older.

When I was about twenty-one, I became depressed. I drank, a lot, which didn't help either. After an especially hard break-up, I remember making a point to keep wine with me wherever I went. I stashed little bottles in my purse. I drank myself sick often, and then I started doing it alone. I withdrew from my friends. I thought of how I would kill myself and I visualized it often, never really meaning to go through with it, but fantasizing and planning it in my head. I started seeing a counselor, and then I started seeing Danny, and everything kind of just...got better. Not perfect, but better. The funny thing is, my counselor didn't think I was depressed. I stopped seeing her after about three sessions.

When I worked at the doughnut shop, I used to get really angry. Some unpleasant customer interaction would happen and I would get so fuming that I would dig my fingernails into my arms and pinch myself so hard I left bruises. This happened often. I thought I just hated my job, but I kept doing it at the next one. If a customer so much as wanted their drink heated up, I would fill with this horrible anger. I knew it was irrational! So I went to see another counselor. I again was told that I am not depressed or bipolar. My counselor treated me as though I simply hated my job and needed career counseling. One day she took a sick day and never called me to reschedule, which I took as a personal slight and never went back.

One time I really wanted a pumpkin bagel and when I got to the shop they were out and I had to go to the bathroom because I was sobbing and had to compose myself. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

One time (okay, more than one time) I was stuck in traffic and hungry and my phone was dying and I screamed at the top of my lungs and punched the roof of the car over and over and sobbed. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

One time Danny and I were on vacation for our anniversary and the spot we planned to pick up dinner was closed due to rain and I stood in one spot and cried for half an hour, knowing we couldn't eat there but not wanting to go anywhere else. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

A few weeks ago I was home alone and didn't feel like sitting around so I hopped in the car and started driving with no destination. I felt overwhelmed by my indecision about where to go so I stopped in a parking lot and called my mom to see what she was up to. She was busy, so I quickly got off the phone and started crying. Then I drove to another parking lot, stopped, and cried some more. My mom tried calling me four times until I finally answered – she had heard the tone in my voice and knew I was sad and was calling to invite me to join her plans for the day. When I got off the phone, I found out that Danny, concerned, had sent out a mass text asking people to hang out with me (without my knowledge), and was so embarrassed I broke down in sobs again. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Sometimes I read poetry that resonates with me so deeply that I cry. I feel so strongly, I can't find the right words to explain how overwhelmed I am by the beauty of things. Ask my friends what I was like during the summer I took Astronomy. Ask anyone I have paused a song for and explained the meaning behind the lyrics to before starting the track over, saying “listen, listen to the words”. Or, “listen to this harmony in this Simon & Garfunkel song, listen to their voices, right here, isn't it...amazing?”. And most common, “Look at the sky!!!”. Don't even let me drive during sunrise, because my eyes will not be on the road.

I over think social cues and situations. I read a text over and over before sending it, contemplating all the possible ways it could come across, and asking those around me whether it says what I want it to say. “Is this rude? Does this sound rude? Do you think they will know what I mean by this...?” It can get excessive. I have always cared a great deal about what people think of me.

When I was little, I called 9-1-1 as a joke and a cop scolded me sternly. I went years afterward thinking that all police officers hated me.

Another incident when I was young – I had seen some dramatic, frightening television special about the crucifixion of Jesus, and about stigmata, and it troubled me so greatly that I struggled to sleep for a year. I remember it to this day.

Any criticism from teachers and bosses is met with tears, even when I try really, really hard not to.

I've always been excruciatingly indecisive, and when I make what seems like the wrong decision, I can't get over it. Ask anyone who's been shopping with me.

When I am hungry, I am extremely irritable and hard to be around. Ask Danny.

What I am getting at, is that recently there was an article floating around called 13 Things Anyone Who Loves A Highly Sensitive PersonShould Know. It looked interesting, so I clicked on it.

And that is when it happened.

We're going to cry.

Decisions make us nervous.
We notice that subtle change in your tone.
Criticism is incredibly distressing.
We crave deep relationships.

...and so on and so forth.

I looked up Highly Sensitive People and it turns out, it's not just an adjective in front of a noun, it's a Real Fucking Thing. From another article:

They feel more deeply.

They're more emotionally reactive.
They're probably used to hearing, "Don't take things so personally" and "Why are you so sensitive?"
It takes longer for them to make decisions.
And on that note, they are more upset if they make a "bad" or "wrong" decision.
Not all highly sensitive people are introverts.
They work well in team environments.
They're more prone to anxiety or depression.
That annoying sound is probably significantly more annoying to a highly sensitive person.
They cry more easily.
The effects of criticism are especially amplified in highly sensitive people.

Could it be? I haven't related to anything so intensely in all my life. Need to know more. From hsperson.com,

Other people’s moods affect me.

I find myself needing to withdraw during busy days,into bed or into a darkened room or any place where I can have some privacy and relief from stimulation.

I am particularly sensitive to the effects of caffeine.

I have a rich,complex inner life.

I am deeply moved by the arts or music.

My nervous system sometimes feels so frazzled that I just have to go off by myself.

I startle easily.

I get rattled when I have a lot to do in a short amount of time.

I am annoyed when people try to get me to do too many things at once.

I try hard to avoid making mistakes or forgetting things.

I become unpleasantly aroused when a lot is going on around me.

Being very hungry creates a strong reaction in me,disrupting my concentration or mood.

I notice and enjoy delicate or fine scents, tastes, sounds, works of art.

I find it unpleasant to have a lot going on at once.

I am bothered by intense stimuli, like loud noises or chaotic scenes.

At that point, I was sobbing.

It turns out, about 20% of the population are highly sensitive people. Not just me!

It turns out, there is nothing wrong with me. There are no words for how that feels. To finally know why I feel the way I feel, and to know that it's okay and it's just part of who I am. To have an explanation. I really hated myself for a long time, and now I am allowed to forgive myself and treat myself kindly –

Part of that is self care. And it's stuff that I am more willing to do now that I know it is a Real Thing.

For instance, I will no longer go to the grocery store while I am hungry, and especially not alone and hungry. I have had many a breakdown wandering around in stores, overstimulated and overwhelmed, hungry and indecisive – as if it matters that much what I'm picking up. Now I go with a list and with a full tummy, and ideally, with Danny.

I try not to drink. I know I still have a problem because whenever I am anywhere where there is alcohol – I want it. Even if I don't want it, I want it. And I can't leave a drink unfinished. Even if it is nasty, I will suck it down. These are not things I want to continue doing.

If I feel overwhelmed by the negative energy of those around me – like recently, there was a game we played in my training class and everyone got really, really competitive and it gave me a lot of anxiety – I now separate myself from it. I go outside in the gazebo and listen to music and breathe.

I make a point to listen to those songs that I love, that feed my soul and make me feel everything all at once.

And above all, I keep myself fed. No more restrictive dieting, and keep a snack with me at all times.

Anyway, I think it is important to talk about because I went 23 years not knowing this existed. And because so many people out there are highly sensitive and don't know. And I know how awful that feels. To feel like an embarrassment to yourself and those around you. It sucks.

It is also important to me to be honest about it because everyone has “stuff”. And I think that to help each other we need to be okay talking about our “stuff” sometimes.

The ability to unconsciously or semi-consciously process environmental subtleties often contributes to an HSP seeming "gifted" or possessing a "sixth sense".

"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create--- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating." - Pearl S. Buck

Forward

I used to love to write.

In middle school I wrote corny poems about love, and about peace, and later about feeling sad. One even got published in some random collection I can't remember the title of and will never find again.

Even before that, I wrote in journals. First, one that was small and pink, with Barbie on the cover, eventually a hardcover Harry Potter journal, and by the end, fancier leather ones with gold edges. The end came around early adulthood, and I'm still unsure as to why. I used to write in them religiously, years of my childhood on paper. I wrote about wanting to be a Spice Girl, about my little sister being a brat, about being afraid that I was inherently evil (pretty deep for a nine year old), and as the years passed, about my dad's health issues and about the boys and girls I had crushes on. At some point, though, it no longer felt important. I stopped writing. Maybe I had to write so much in school I lost interest, maybe I no longer had the time, maybe I was intimidated by my writer boyfriend.

Whatever the reason, it continues to bum me out. That is why, every so often, I create a new blog, and I write a post or two. I started a photography blog, a flight attendant blog, a blog about my college experience, a beauty product review blog, and a weight loss blog - none of which panned out. For years now, my writing has been limited to text posts on Tumblr, scattered among funny gifs from my favorite shows and vegan junk food recipes (and plenty of selfies, of course). So here I am, throwing myself into it again.

This past year I have become what you could call “goal-oriented”. It sucks because I stress out about reaching goals sometimes, but it's really incredible because I never used to have “goals”. There was a gaping hole of years in my life where I had no motivation or ideas about my future. Some of that time I was seriously depressed and coping with alcohol, some of that time I was just drifting. Point being, if you asked me about my “five year plan” I would have laughed and/or cried. Eventually, though, I got to a better place and I got some ideas about how I want my life to go.

My favorite method of setting goals is to imagine my ideal self. I don't mean the 120lb me with perfect hair and no pores on my nose who will never, ever exist, by the way – I mean, I will probably always want that, but – I am looking deeper here. I think about the people in my life who I admire, and what characteristics I admire about them. I think about what kind of person I want to be. And then I make a list of that person's traits. For instance, I decided that I wanted to be someone who sends cards for special occasions and as thank-you's. That was something I always thought was so wonderful that other people do, and I wanted to be someone who would do that, and now I do. I stocked up on thank-you cards, and I stocked up on stamps so that it would be easy for me to do, and I began to do it! People really appreciate it, and it makes me feel good, and it makes me feel proud of the person I am. And really, it was a very simple thing to start doing.

My ideal me is thoughtful and compassionate. She makes others feel comfortable being around her and talking with her. She is honest and open about her feelings. She eats to nourish her body and soul, and she is active outdoors in one way or another. She is kind to the Earth. She is on top of her finances (mostly) and she is organized. She likes to challenge herself.

What I mean, then, is that one way I am trying to challenge myself is by maintaining a serious blog. I want to use this to explore my voice, to try to better express myself, and to see whether I have learned to stick to it. I think that blogging about this thirty day minimalism challenge is a good way to start, and that it is relevant to my goals.

My five year plan, if you were wondering, has a few components. A month ago I started at my new job – one I think could actually be long term, for the first time. I like what I do and I am proud to do it. That is a new feeling for me and I intend to remain there and to work hard and see where it may take me. I am getting married next March to the sweetest man I've ever known. He is my partner in everything and I am so looking forward to working together on our dreams. I want to move into a bigger house, in a better area, with a more spacious kitchen. I want to be a mother. Each day I make an effort to take a step towards one or more of these things. I think it's good for me.

Getting Started

Today I began a thirty day minimalism challenge, and honestly, today's task is probably the hardest one.

1. Stay offline for one day

Social media, endless news streams and articles all drain our energy and keep us in a constant distracted state. So today: Log off and enjoy the calmness of staying disconnected.

It's not as if I haven't done this before, it's just that it has been a while. And usually, when I do something like this, it's only social media in particular that I avoid. It has been strange not being able to google things! (If you are wondering how I am typing this right now, I am just using OpenOffice on my laptop, so I'm not online... loophole!) I did need to drop by the library to print out a copy of my renewed lease, which did involve logging into my e-mail, but that totally didn't count.

At work it was easy to avoid my phone – I was busy. But now that I am home, I'm going to have to get more creative. Normally I would marathon Scrubs until bedtime, breaking to cook dinner, and browse Tumblr. Today, I think, I will clean out my purse and catch up on my magazines (would you believe I am two issues behind on Real Simple?).

So far I know I have missed twenty-two Facebook notifications – so far – and some cute baby photos on Instagram, according to my sister. I have a list of things I have wanted to look up but couldn't (mostly a bunch of stuff about kombucha) and I am missing my Timehop nostalgia trip for the day. I also have no idea what my friends are doing because I haven't been stalking them, and I am the world's worst texter. Hopefully everyone is okay!

I really do enjoy doing things like this, though. I like the quiet and the focus. I like to de-stress and de-clutter. I like time spent alone (sometimes). And, I figured, what a perfect time to try to blog again.

Note: It has been a week and I have still only done day one of the minimalism challenge... I didn't give up, I'm just...taking my time.