As Highly Sensitive People (HSPs), we experience our feelings intensely, deeply, in our bodies. An emotion can feel like an intense physical reaction which can often be overwhelming for us. I was working with an HSP client who described the fizzy feeling of anxiety zipping around her body and spun her hands frantically to show what was happening and what it felt like. She described it being as if her body was having an overreaction to a completely doable situation.
I noticed that within her tone judgement was present, looking down on the overreaction. She was undermining the legitimacy of her own experience; and in doing so, the validity of herself. However, as described by Dr. Elaine Aron1, having a sensitive nervous system is usual, and something we probably inherited with about 15-20% of the population having the HSP trait. I believe my mum is also an HSP, and I’m pretty sure she, unknowingly, passed this gift on to me.
“...as if her body was having an overreaction to a completely doable situation”
Many of our emotions create arousal and what can be moderately arousing for many, can be highly arousing for us HSPs, and lead to the familiar feeling of being overwhelmed. We are overaroused and overstimulated. And while a lot of stimulation comes from outside of us, it can also come from inside, from our bodies - pain, tension, hunger. Our bodies where we, of course, also experience our emotions and feelings.
Then it occurred to me, this is why I am experiencing certain big emotions and feelings in the way I have. I’ve been too embarrassed to tell anyone. You’re about to be the first to hear… I’ve just realised that I’m not weird, odd, or morbid for what's been creeping around my body these past months. I’m simply being me, an HSP who is profoundly and acutely living feelings that are so much more prevalent than I’d recognised before. This is what’s been going on…
“You’re about to be the first to hear.”
Loss latches on to my bone bars rattling my ribs. I shake and so does the list now crumpling in my fingers. A sob surprises me. I don’t really know why, but when I was little, I loved to write the food shopping list with my mum. She’d nudge me, come on, it’s time, and I’d scramble to the kitchen table. I’d tuck my leg under me as I settled in, pen pinched and poised, tongue gently squeezed between my teeth.
A different flavour of seriousness, earnest, furrowed across my brow. I’d gather there expectantly, in deep concentration as she went from cupboard to cupboard calling things for me to catch. I’d eagerly capture everything she said. Carefully, making sure I didn’t miss a thing. Even now, me in the autumn of my life, her in the winter, she tells me, her voice thick with pleasure, that I’d write “m u r s h r o o m s” and how this tickled her.
“Loss latches on to my bone bars rattling my ribs”
Maybe it was because I felt helpful. That I was taking part in something important, that mattered. Perhaps, grown up. Maybe it was because it was one of the few household tasks when I was let in. It was ours. We did it together. I cherished these moments. Or maybe I was just anticipating choosing a sweetie at the end of the shop because I’d been good. Did I scribble that on the list? It surprises me that I can’t remember now. It was definitely lined up on the list on my tongue of everything I could taste.
I’m not sure when it happened, but now I write the same list, except it’s different. I have to ask her, nudge her, to fill the fridge, the cupboards. She doesn’t see the point just for one. Whereas the point screams at me from deep behind my ribs, echoing in the grief cave where I don’t want to lose her too. I can see her purpose has been snuffed out. No husband or family running around the house to cook for and nourish. And with that my joy and glee at putting the list together has gone too. Replaced with dragging my tired bones. The effort, the energy.
“I can see her purpose has been snuffed out.”
Cared for turned carer. Roles reversed. Reversed roles. I didn’t anticipate this. I want her to get out of her chair, to zip round the kitchen, to peer in the fridge. To call “milk, bread, eggs, flour, fruit, biscuits!”
Mushrooms.
M u r s h r o o m s…
I want her to want to make our list together. Like we used to. To come back from the edge and be fully present in this life. Not to say indifferently “I don’t know” when I try to gee us up. It doesn’t feel the same one way. I don’t want to just remove mouldy things from the fridge, sigh at dates gone by, only to do the same again next month.
“To come back from the edge and be fully present in this life.”
I long to hand the finished list to her bursting with pride, seeking and finding the pleasure in her eyes as she’d hold it like a small fragile bird. Maybe it was because I once felt held too. We’re in there somewhere, where did we go? Why? When? When did this happen? The fridge became bare and echoey. I drag the list out of her, rather than it pouring and me just catching it. A simple life task full of love, care, togetherness became a chore to be endured.
I want it back. I want her back. I want us back. I already deeply miss a life we both knew gone by. I don’t want to be grown up anymore. I feel the swallowing swell in my stomach, the edges of something I can’t imagine surviving. Powerless over the inevitable. It’s jaw achingly, heart breakingly, hard to bear. A time when there will be no need for a list at all.
Always be vulnerable, brave and daring.
Sensitively,
Gentle Gillian x
Reflective Questions For You:
Please be gentle and caring towards yourself as you spend some time with today's reflective questions. If this is too much for you, put it down, step away, there’s no pressure to go to places you may not feel ready to.
When you are, get comfy somewhere you feel safe, and ponder these questions:
Which big emotions do you feel and experience deeply in your body?
Where do you experience this and what is that like for you?
What are these feelings telling you that you need?
Bonus activity: It can be comforting to realise and know we are not alone with our feelings, especially when the feelings can fall at a moment in time which may seem premature even though they’re not. Realising that we are not the only one who feels how we do and in the physically, bodily, intense way we do can help. Hold hands with your fellow sensitive souls here in the sensitive coaches pHiloSoPhy by sharing what came up for you in a comment below and/or responding to someone else’s shared thoughts.
Your thoughts are welcome, go on, be vulnerable, brave and daring…
Gillian is a qualified and credentialed Coach (ICF, PCC), a qualified Coach Supervisor and Coach Mentor; and, of course, a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP). She works with HSPs to manage their self-doubt, anxiety and overwhelm, so you can be fully present for yourself and others. To explore working with Gillian, book an initial (free) call by clicking here.
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Aron, Elaine (1996), The Highly Sensitive Person. New York: Broadway Books.
That "i don't know" sigh of a reply: it describes a full decade of my life. Thank you for sharing.
Gentle Gillian,
What a touching piece that perfectly captures our changing roles in life. Sending love and positive energy to you and your mum ✍🏻💪🏻🙏🏻❤️