Sensitive Matters: Understanding and Accepting Our Sensitivity
It all began innocently enough when someone in my social circle made a casual, flippant remark that mostly went unnoticed—except by me. That offhanded jab struck a nerve and stirred up more than the foam in my overpriced latte. It genuinely upset me. When I relayed the incident to my husband, I was expecting a comforting hug or, at the very least, a sympathetic nod. He offered neither but instead exclaimed, "Let it go; you're so sensitive!" His words lingered in my mind, prompting me to reflect:
Could my sensitivity be an unexpected side effect of getting older?
It feels as though I've stepped into a scene from Inside Out, the Pixar film that delves into the turbulent angsts and emotional world of an 11-year-old girl—only in my version, the protagonist is a 60-something woman navigating the intricacies of later life. In this story, I'm not just wrestling with the typical challenges that come with aging, but grappling with an ever-heightened emotional landscape and the often unpredictable consequences that go with it.
The other day, as I was leaving the grocery store, I spotted an elderly veteran in his decorated service uniform—standing by the poppy table. As I approached to make my donation, with slightly shaking, weathered hands, he gently pinned the poppy to my coat collar. His voice was warm and rich with memories as he gestured toward a framed photo of himself at 19, informing me about his time stationed in Germany. His sparkling blue eyes remained the same. Seeing his youthful image juxtaposed against the distinguished elder now before me triggered a sudden wave of emotion. This bittersweet reminder of time's swift passage caused my eyes to fill with tears and the lump in my throat to grow heavier.
But just as quickly as I can get all misty-eyed over a tender moment or a sappy Christmas commercial, I can just as easily lash out, leaving myself awash in shame, remorse, and regret. This emotional whiplash has been exhausting, making me wonder if there's something in the air—or maybe Mercury is in retrograde. It's tempting to blame external forces for this turmoil, but I know it's not that simple.
My emotional microbursts made me think of my mom, who was hypersensitive. She also felt overloaded by bright lights and sudden loud sounds and easily startled and uncomfortable with the common shrill of a phone ringing, a doorbell, or an alarm. Tragic news stories and disturbing TV dramas were equally intolerable for her.
As I piece together various facts, I'm discovering that my beloved late mom may have fit the description of a "highly sensitive person (HSP)." Trauma and tragedy plagued her early adolescence in Eastern Europe during World War II, experiences that undoubtedly contributed to her heightened sensitivity. Throughout her life, she suffered from debilitating anxiety and depression, conditions that persisted despite attempts at therapy and medication.
In 1996, psychologist Elaine Aron introduced the term "highly sensitive person" (HSP) to describe individuals who deeply absorb and process their surroundings, often leading to heightened emotional responses and an acute sensitivity to external stimuli.
HSPs are thought to be more disturbed than others by violence, tension, or feelings of being overwhelmed. They may, as a result, make concerted efforts to avoid situations in which such things are likely to occur. On the more positive end of the trait, high sensitivity is thought to be linked to higher levels of creativity, richer personal relationships and a greater appreciation for beauty.
Before retiring, I worked in a fast-paced academic office where I diligently provided support, always striving to do my best. Admittedly, I often battled with insecurities and self-doubt about my performance. So, when my superior bluntly told me that I needed to "buck it up" to survive in this environment, it felt like a gut punch. This phrase felt dismissive and harsh, and I internalized the belief that I was being seen as weak, a pushover, which led me to question my self-worth.
Many mistakenly portray sensitivity as a flaw, associating it with a lack of strength or assertiveness.
In a Time Magazine article Why Being Sensitive Is a Strength, author Andre Sólo points out that
...the message sensitive people get isn't to celebrate who they are. It's that they should overcome their sensitivity and toughen up. Putting aside that this approach doesn't work, it's wrongheaded. Sensitivity is largely genetic and not something you can turn off. It is a trait linked to giftedness and something we ought to embrace. In fact, according to three decades of research, it's not only a healthy trait; it also serves as a powerful asset.
While being a highly sensitive person has many strengths, it also has its disadvantages. The heightened sensitivity can sometimes increase reactivity, resulting in misunderstandings and misinterpretations.
In today's climate, where hostile rhetoric has become all too familiar and where rage seems to be the default reaction to everything, it's incredibly disheartening that so few resources prioritize fostering kindness and sensitivity. We should promote positive communication and condemn harmful language.
Like young Riley in Inside Out, who ultimately learns that emotions—though complicated—are essential to living a full and authentic life, I, too, have realized that personal growth demands developing greater emotional grit and fortitude.
As I take more accountability, I’m learning to appreciate this phase of my journey with greater mindfulness, including accepting my vulnerability and my less-than-thick skin.
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