There’s a show on Netflix with teenagers that each have one magical power. One of the young women has the superpower of empathy. I feel incredulous whenever I think about it. “What?!? Who would write in empathy as a superpower?” I say this as an empath and a highly sensitive person.
Empaths sense subtle energy and absorb it from other people and environments into their bodies. Scientifically speaking, they have hyperresponsive mirror neurons so they deeply resonate with other people’s feelings. For instance, this summer as wildfires raged throughout California, I didn’t sleep well. As soon as the fires were mostly contained, I started sleeping better. It’s complicated because I had my personal worry about the fires, but it was amplified by everyone else’s worry.
A highly sensitive person, or HSP, is someone who has a low threshold for stimulation, needs alone time, is sensitive to light, sound, and smell, and has an aversion to large groups. It also takes HSPs longer to wind down after a busy day because their ability to transition from high stimulation to low stimulation is slower. If you’re interested in determining whether you’re an HSP, you can take a self-assessment test. In case you’re wondering, I answer “yes” to every single question.
This came up when I searched for “sensitive.” Photo by Ermelinda Martín on Unsplash
It turns out high sensitivity affects about 20% of the population. It’s a genetic trait and it’s found not only in humans, but species like primates, dogs, goats, rats, and elk, to name a few. High sensitivity helps the evolution of each species because the highly sensitive ones more easily pick up on changes in the environment that are crucial for survival. They are the ones who first sense there are lions in the bushes for instance, researcher Dr. Elaine Aron tells us. And the nonsensitive ones drive off the lions.
You can be an HSP without being an empath, but that’s not the case for me. It’s challenging because it takes so much freaking effort for me to just live in the world. Things that other people don’t give a second thought – like going to a sports game back when we could do that safely – I have to weigh the pros and cons.
Most of the time, I think of sensitivity and empathy as gifts I’d like to return, but the reality is that doesn’t serve me. These two traits are genetic and I can’t change them any more than I can change my eye color. What’s the solution then? It may sound like a pat answer but the answer is self-acceptance. How do you learn to accept yourself? Oh man, I don’t know. That’s why people have written books and offer courses on the topic. It’s not something you can solve overnight.
A good entry point though is a modified version of the serenity prayer: “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change about myself, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” From there, trust that the right actions will be shown and that you’ll have the courage to take them.
I dream of a world where we love and accept ourselves. A world where we embrace the uniqueness of every individual whether they’re a highly sensitive person or not. A world where we create space for all people to be themselves without elevating one person or another. A world where we realize humanity is like a garden filled with numerous flowers.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Tuesday, I found out someone in one of my circles committed suicide. I didn’t know him well; we had a total of three interactions, but his death shocked me and shook me. All week I found myself crying for someone I barely knew. Hurting because people I am closer to are hurting. It pains me to see others in pain.
All week I’ve battled with myself because my tears don’t make much logical sense. Shawn and I talked about books. We didn’t swap secrets and peer into each other’s souls. How can I feel so sad about this death? In part it’s because I lost a community member, but also it’s because I’m empathic, sensitive, bighearted.
A heart so big it lights up the sky. Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash
Growing up, I heard over and over again that I’m too sensitive, that I’m too emotional. I heard it so much I internalized it and now when I have big feelings, I judge myself for them. I want my emotions to match up to logic but oftentimes they do not. I realize sensitivity is a gift, but I still resist my feelings. I still want them to make sense, but they don’t. My therapist and other people tell me over and over again, “Just feel them. You don’t have to understand them. Just feel them.” Easier said than done. Easier said than done when feeling them means crying on the floor of my bedroom typing on my computer. Easier said than done when feeling them means sitting with the things I’m scared of instead of trying to talk myself out of feeling afraid.
When it comes down to it, I harbor a sense of shame about my sensitivity. I think there’s something wrong with me that I feel so much, so deeply. That I “should” be able to toughen up, to grow a thicker skin, to somehow become a different person. Friends, I have tried! With much earnestness I’ve tried, and yet here we are. There are certain things about us that are immutable and I’m understanding my big heart is one of them. I’m doing a lot of work on self-soothing and becoming my own emotional rock, but that doesn’t mean my feelings evaporate. All I’m left with is the choice to accept this is me, which is something I think Shawn would approve of.
Again, I didn’t know him well, but I’m reading memories and tributes to Shawn all over facebook and one of the things people write over and over again is how seen they felt by him. How loved. How accepted. In his death, maybe that’s something I can give to myself. I think he’d want that.
I dream of a world where we love and accept all parts of ourselves. A world where we feel our feelings even when they don’t seem to make sense. A world where we understand sometimes our feelings won’t match up with our brains. A world where we realize sensitivity is a gift and that it’s OK to be bighearted.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other day, a man menacingly said, “Smile! You so pretty,” while I walked by him. On this same walk, I passed a grocery store with some police activity and witnessed a fight almost break out while waiting for the bus. One woman accused another of touching her stuff and was ready to issue a smackdown over it. So much so, that she followed her down the street. Not only that, two bystanders crossed the street gleefully in the hopes of watching the potential fight.
My response was, “What’s with all the aggression today?” In that moment, it became clearer to me exactly why sensitivity is a gift. I didn’t enjoy seeing the aggression; I didn’t want to fight the menacing man. I was horrified by all of the events.
Sometimes I feel like a sensitive baby deer. But that’s a good thing.
If you’d said to me two months ago that sensitivity is a gift, I would have scoffed. In fact, a friend did say that to me and I did scoff because my whole life I’ve been accused of being too sensitive. Sensitivity was always a burden, a curse, something I wanted to be rid of. I wanted to toughen myself up, grow a thicker skin – anything that was an antidote to sensitivity seemed like the way to go.
When I witnessed all of this on my walk, I realized sensitivity is needed in this world to keep it from being filled with aggressive, menacing people. The sensitive souls are the ones that balance all the harshness. They are the ones who say, “This is not OK,” and try to do something about it. The sensitive people are the caretakers, the artists, the advisers. Without sensitivity, we lose some of our humanity. That’s a big statement, I know, but it’s the sensitivity, the empathy, that allows us to connect with one another and move away from our baser instincts. Not everyone is as sensitive as I am, and that’s great – we need the tough-skinned people in the world too – but most people have at least some sensitivity. Considering the world we live in right now, maybe we need more sensitive people.
As a sensitive person, I can’t stomach people hurting each other or neglecting each other. Can you imagine what the world would be like if our leaders felt the same way? Would we have the same number of wars? Would there be so much poverty? Would the environment be in the state it’s currently in? Maybe when someone says to me, “You’re so sensitive,” I can say, “Thank you, it’s one of my best qualities,” because sensitivity is what makes me the caring, creative, idealistic person that I am. How can that be anything but a gift?
I dream of a world where we all embrace our sensitivity. A world where we recognize being sensitive is what makes us loving and compassionate. A world where we use our sensitivity to our advantage to make the world a better place. A world where we recognize sensitivity as a gift.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.