On being sensitive, not insufferable

Walking through life as a highly sensitive person can feel like this. (Photo by Nicolò Paternoster on Foter.com / CC BY-NC-SA)

As many lights as Elaine Aron’s groundbreaking The Highly Sensitive Person turned on when I discovered it years ago, a red flag popped up, too. I remember thinking: Wow, a highly sensitive person can be a force for good … or a pain in the ass. I did not, and still don’t, want to be That Person who complains often, takes offense easily, and makes the atmosphere sticky.

Knowledge about ourselves as highly sensitive persons is power, right? With that power comes the responsibility to make more authentic choices about everything from careers and relationships to the smallest interactions with our world. Those of us who are wired to experience life intensely, feel the pain of others, and draw energy from down time can use those traits to make the world a saner, kinder place. We can also gum up the world’s works by being reactive or making others responsible for our well-being.

Aron’s research indicates 15 to 20 percent of us have the traits of high sensitivity, also known as sensory-processing sensitivity. More recent research on brain activity points to physical, structural differences in the brains of highly sensitive people. It’s not in our heads — well, it is, but you get the picture.

So how do we HSPs thrive conscientiously in 21st-century America? The answers to that question are a work in progress, but here are my current thoughts.

Own it 

We may be outnumbered, but we’re not out-powered. Though we cannot control the crowds, the noise, the news, the behavior of others, or the thousand other potential sources of overwhelm and overstimulation, we can control our exposure and response to them. We do this through caring for ourselves, setting boundaries, and believing we are worth the effort and retraining it takes to do so.

Yes, retraining. We may have spent years grinning and bearing whatever and trying to make up for being “too sensitive.” So mustering the initiative to leave a party a wee bit early, ask your spouse for what you need, or say no to yet another request or demand may feel like scaling Mount Everest.

Won’t there be pushback? You bet, and it will be damn hard to resist. But when we can stand up for ourselves without making it about the other person(s) — that is, without judgement or blame — we get real. Wouldn’t you rather deal with a real person than one who is trying to shrink or stretch to please others? I sure would.

Handle empathy with care

Highly sensitive people and empaths can often sense what is really bothering the client who doesn’t like our design, or its fifth revision. We can observe how the family dynamic in the waiting room may sabotage the patient’s follow-up care. We know the horse we are grooming is sad, and we may even be able to tell it’s because his buddy in the next stall went to a new home last week. Well-managed empathy can not only tell us what’s wrong, but map the gentlest route toward making it right.

However, the good we can do with empathy is diminished when we take on others’ pain and burdens. Sometimes we do it without even realizing it. Taking on someone else’s “stuff,” instead of helping that person, expands the problem and leaves less room to find a solution … which may not be ours to find in the first place. And if others are rude, unkind, or downright horrid, that’s on them. Judith Orloff has some good books, last year’s The Empath’s Survival Guide in particular, about navigating these minefields.

The good we can do is also undermined when we don’t use discernment and discretion about the impressions and information we get through our sensitive spidey senses. Some of it, like the “Don’t get into the car with him” vibe, arrives ready to use. Some is best silently received and released. The rest has to go through the “Is it true/fair/kind/necessary?” mill before we share or act on it.

Empathy can actually be a check for sensitivity’s pain-in-the-ass potential. If we are quick to feel hurt, yet remain clueless about the impact of our own behavior on others, our sensitivity is a liability rather than an asset. This can happen to anyone, especially during times of stress. Good self-care and boundaries help us regain our empathetic balance.  However, if this one-sided sensitivity is business as usual, that’s misery all around. “The Happy Sensitive” coach and blogger Caroline van Kimmenade goes so far as to say sensitivity minus empathy equals narcissism.

We can walk a fine line between the building-up and tearing-down sides of sensitivity. Using empathy wisely helps keep us on the constructive side.

When in doubt, follow the Golden Rule

We may feel everything, but we don’t know everything. You’ve seen the quote attributed to Brad Meltzer: “Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always.” It reminds me of that bit about treating others the way we would want to be treated, which still works.

The world needs folks like us … just as it needs folks not like us, and compassion is needed more than ever. Let’s bring our best selves to the task.

One who went before

Helen Deiss - Ky Kernel

Helen Deiss, editor, checked The Kentucky Kernel with head pressman Karl Davis in the old printing plant in 1948. (Photo courtesy University of Kentucky)

This photo in my spouse’s University of Kentucky alumni magazine — celebrating the university’s 150th anniversary —  caught my eye. The young woman, Helen Deiss, was the editor of the campus newspaper in 1948, and here she was checking an issue just off the press. She looks younger than a traditional college student, and yet she exudes calm and confidence at a time when women in editorial positions were few.

Helen Deiss Irvin passed away in 2015 at 86, but according to her obituary, she went on to become a reporter for what was then the Lexington Leader, receive a Ph.D. from UK and teach in Transylvania University’s division of humanities. She later attended Harvard Law School and practiced in Washington, DC, until she was 83. Along the way, she authored a book, Women in Kentucky. “She loved animals, books and sports,” the obit reads.

Helen sounds like a lady who sought and found a variety of outlets for her gifts and interests. It wasn’t “just” journalism, teaching, or law … she did them all. Many, if not most, of the women who followed her in journalism would also weave teaching, law, public relations, nursing, occupational therapy, or any number of other disciplines into their working lives. It’s a pluralism that has become a reality of 21st-century life and a time when journalism is struggling to retain the best of what it was and morph into its future self.

The Kentucky Kernel became an independent newspaper in 1971, operating without university funding, and it’s still going today.

But look at young Helen giving that newspaper the once-over in 1948. She knew what she was doing and would find many more ways to do it. So can we.

Minding nonprofits’ mailings

Mail - cogdogblog via Foter.comDear Handful of Respected Nonprofits:

Last fall, I contacted each of you and politely asked that you take my 90-year-old mother off your mailing lists. She was quite generous to you in 2015, and I can understand why you or your fundraising software algorithms would thank her profusely and ask for more. However, with her eyesight, memory issues, and conscientious soul, Mom was starting to treat your repeated mailings as bills that needed to be paid. As you can imagine, being nonprofit organizations that help others, that created problems.

As her power of attorney, I explained this to each of you, and you all agreed to remove her name from your mailing lists and stop all requests for donations. I also made use of the Direct Marketing Association’s mail preference and caregivers’ registries — just to make sure it was clear that these solicitations were to stop. Those of you who followed through have my sincere thanks.

Mom passed away just after Christmas, and I had her mail forwarded to me. That’s when I discovered that a few of you were still sending mail asking her for donations. “We tried contacting you,” one said; “don’t you want to continue supporting this important work?” “We miss you! We need your help now more than ever!” another declared.

I realize it takes time for these “stop your mailings” requests to take effect, but I contacted you in October and you’re still sending mail in February.

Don’t get me wrong; I respect the work each of you does. You help people find hope and re-start their lives. You bring quality broadcasting to your community. You try to help this country, through its leadership, be all it can be. You were lucky to have the support of my mother, a Depression survivor who saw her share of challenges and wanted to give back.

However, you did not abide by what should have been a simple request to help protect my mother’s well-being. What does that say about the way you operate?

I’m not naming any of you because doing so would only distract. If you, the individual person reading this, are part of a nonprofit organization that solicits funds, I hope you’ll take a hard look at how you do that. And if people ask you to take them or an elderly relative off your mailing list, please do so. Your donors will find you, and funds are easier to recover than trust.

Sincerely,
Any Adult Child

PHOTO: cogdogblog via Foter.com