HSPs, Boundaries, Feeling Good, and Finding Balance

Sometimes it pays to pause to consider why you do what you're doing.

What motivates your choices?

There are lots of things we choose to do, in life. Often we are motivated to do things because they make us feel good. Of course, sometimes we're also motivated to do things because they are "good for us." Although it doesn't always hold true, we can at least hope that these two overlap, most of the time.

In a simplified and ideal world, the above would be the primary motivations behind what we choose to do. Alas, that's not the reality of life, especially for a Highly Sensitive Person. We make choices that hurt us, often based on fear and choices that are definitely not good for us. If "bad" choices seem to be a persistent pattern in our lives, we often become very adept at abandoning our accountability for them, instead creating an intricate web of rationalizations for why our choices were actually something that "happened TO us."

Many HSPs are very "compliant" by nature. Confrontation either frightens us, or we are "OK" with confrontation but still avoid it because it feels terribly overstimulating and we end up feeling "out of sorts" for days and hours after the actual confrontational event happened.

However, unless we are willing to stand up for ourselves-- and how we feel about a situation-- our personal boundaries tend to get overstepped or even completely ignored. It's no secret that setting healthy personal boundaries can be very challenging for HSPs. That said, we really cannot assume (and, unfortunately, many HSPs do) that the rest of the world will somehow "intuit" our needs, the way we might be able to, about them. Life just doesn't work that way!

I have met many HSPs for whom simply stating their opinion and "taking a stance" on something they believe in  (especially if it seems counter to "popular" or "majority" viewpoints) feels like "fighting" or "being difficult" in a way they find very unpleasant.

Even... if they clearly have the best idea in a group, meeting, family gathering, or whatever.

It can become a bit of a paradox, because asserting ourselves "doesn't feel good," but being ignored also "doesn't feel good."

Sadly, many HSPs choose to circumvent the issue altogether by isolating themselves, instead. They conclude that the world "is too painful" and choose to avoid contact, altogether. On some level, that choice might (at least in the short term) "feel good," but on a greater scale, it's hardly "good for us." I can't even begin to estimate how many hundreds of HSPs I've encountered (usually in online forums) over the past 15 years who have gone down this path only to become deeply depressed because they feel "all alone in the world."

Suppressing our true nature because we are fearful of the consequences of "being our TRUE selves" can be very damaging to us; to our self-esteem.

HSPs have a lot to offer the world, but the world will not benefit if we don't bring those gifts to the world.

I'm not advocating that we should become "militantly outspoken assholes" in order to make our point-- we merely must find a healthy balance by finding the courage to share our perspectives and be heard, even if our ideas aren't necessarily adopted.

As I write these words, I'm reminded of this (quite famous) Dr. Seuss quote:

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind."

We can learn from that, and guide ourselves to better choices. When we share-- especially in a group setting-- some people are going to think our ideas are marvelous! Those are the people we should aline ourselves with, because they get where we're coming from. We must attempt to focus our attention on the fact that "Bob LOVED my idea!" rather than feeling crestfallen because "Sue didn't like my idea."

That does take a bit of practice-- many of us have "trained" ourselves to dwell on what is "wrong," rather than celebrate what is "right."

Something else we must remember is that in most cases, we're not obliged to do things that make us feel bad. Saying "no" to spending the day at a noisy theme park with a group of colleagues from work (which will make us feel overstimulated and stressed) is a much healthier choice than compliantly saying "yes" and having a day we hate. Sure we will encounter exceptions where we are "obligated" to participate in something we don't like, but those are generally few and far between. Establishing a healthy boundary and saying no to things that genuinely feel bad is not the same thing as "isolating."

Finally, we must remind ourselves that "NO is a complete sentence."

When our neighbor asks "Are you coming to my noisy cousin's surprise birthday party at Noise World tomorrow?" it's OK to simply say "No, I'm sorry, I won't be attending" without concocting 500 excuses and reasons for why we won't be attending. If pressed by the person asking, we need say no more than "Sorry, it just won't work out for me."

You'll feel much better when you do.

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Talk Back! Pause to consider what motivates your choices. How good (or bad) are you at setting boundaries? Do you do things that "feel bad," or are "bad for you," because you fear not going with the flow? Do you sometimes choose to not do things that feel good, for fear of being judged, for your choices? Consider how you set boundaries. Do you isolate yourself, as a way of setting "boundaries," or do you feel free to state your opinion? Does saying "no" to someone feel like a confrontation? Leave a comment and share your experiences!

New Monthly Feature on HSP Notes: HSP Portraits

Starting in February, I will be adding a new monthly feature to the HSP Notes blog: "HSP Portraits."

HSP Portraits will be an ongoing series of (hopefully inspiring!) vignettes and interviews with HSPs from a wide range of backgrounds and walks of life-- all of whom have in common that they are Highly Sensitive People, and they are making a difference in the world, in people's lives, and even in their own lives.

I won't necessarily just be featuring "famous" or "known" HSP personalities-- but also "the person next door," who's quietly going about making the world a better place. What these folks will have in common (aside from being highly sensitive) is that they are examples of how to be in the world, and active agents in their own lives.

With this series, I hope to share the vast array of different creative expression and talent HSPs bring to the world, from spiritual coaching to art to healing and to simply spreading awareness of the HSP trait. We contribute in so many ways, but we're often quiet and soft-spoken, and feel challenged by-- and even uncomfortable with-- the idea of "tooting our own horns." Sometimes, it takes someone else to help us "shout the message from the rooftops."

The first HSP Portrait will appear on these pages on Monday, February 13th, with subsequent installments on the second Monday of the month.

I hope you will find the HSP Portraits entertaining, interesting, enlightening and inspiring.

The Self-Employed HSP and the Importance of Planning

I am self-employed, and have been-- in one form or another-- for many years.

Even while I was working for various companies, I always had some kind of "sideline business" going.

Self-employment is quite common among HSPs, moreso that among the population at large. In her book "Making Work Work for the Highly Sensitive Person," (highly recommended, by the way-- useful book for all HSPs!) Barrie Jaeger advocates self-employment as one of the better chances we have at getting involved in work that truly is our "calling."

It's not surprising: most HSPs find traditional workplaces oppressive and filled with rules that squash creativity, as well as excessively competitive and not friendly to someone sensitive. The physical environment of many workplaces-- noisy, cramped, windowless-- also does not bring out the best in us.

Whereas self-employment typically offers the best opportunity for creative expression and freedom, it is not without its challenges, especially for a Highly Sensitive Person. When I consult with HSPs about their one-person businesses, the greatest challenge seems to be the "business end" of having your own business. This is not surprising: With so many of us being intuitive/creative right-brain processors, we find it difficult to deal with the distinctly left-brain "nuts-and-bolts" aspects of business: planning, record-keeping, accounting, budgets, etc.

Some might even say "Oh, I can't DEAL with that sort of stuff! I'll just figure it out as I go along and everything will just work itself out."

Whoa.
Not so fast.

Typically, such an approach is a recipe for disaster.

Or, at least, a recipe for getting yourself immersed in a sea of chaos, leading to HSP-overstimulation, possibly leading to frustration with being in business for yourself.

First, let's tackle the "I can't" myth-- as in "I can't deal with that sort of stuff."

Even if you are a "creative" and "intuitive" and "right brain" type of person, let's remember that it's simply not true that you "can't" use the left (logical, number crunching) side of your brain. Unless you happen to have had a lobotomy, you can engage the left side of your brain-- it's just not your dominant function. And you may feel resistance because "left brain activities" feel difficult, restrictive and boring.

"I can't" is just a story we tell ourselves when faced with something we don't like.

As it is the beginning of the year, I recently finished doing my business planning for the year (and years) ahead. When you are self-employed, having a plan-- and actually formulating and writing it down-- is very important, because it helps us define what it is we're trying to do, and then gives us a road map of sorts helps gauge whether we're "making it," or not. Just having the plan "in your head" is not enough!

As an HSP and a veteran of "doing this," I can't overstate the importance of taking the time to have a business plan, both for the current year, and for the future.

Before you panic, business plans don't have to be elaborate, or contain 40 pages of numbers in little columns. At its root, a business plan is no more than a written statement of "where you are now," and where you want to be (by some date, like "December 31st," or "Five years from now"), and even the most rudimentary statements about "what that entails."

The main things a business plan does is force you to "quantify" what you're doing.

"I want to be a successful author by 2017" is NOT a business plan.

"I want to write and publish three books in my field of expertise by 2017" is a business plan.

And yes, it can be "just that simple."

If you're feeling resistance-- for whatever reasons-- to having a PLAN (it feels "restrictive," it "limits your creativity" or "plans involve numbers and I HATE numbers!"), her's something important to remember. Once you've made it, you don't have to become a slave to it!

All it's there to do, is help you define and think through the process that gets you from "right now" to your dream of (for example) "successful author." The level of detail you want to put into it-- when each book needs to be finished, or how much you need to write every month/week-- is completely up to you. Just get "the bones of the process" down on paper. Make a few rough estimates ("guess-stimates") of the time you need vs. the time you have, any major expenses you might encounter and how you're going to fund them, research what one actually gets paid each time a book sells.

But don't overthink it or overdo it... as HSPs we often get bogged down in details, which can lead to "analysis paralysis."

I'll close by bringing up the "map analogy" again.

Your business plan is your road map. Indeed, if you need to travel by car from one side of New York city to the other, you may well be able to do so, using your intuition and "figuring it out as you go along." But odds are it will take you much longer, and you'll get lost several times, and burn a lot more gas before reaching your destination... than if you'd had a map. Having the map doesn't mean you're going to sit with it in your lap, the entire time... you're just going to pull it out now and then when you're freaking out a little and thinking "now... where the hell AM I?"

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Talk Back! Are you self-employed? If you are, do you have a written plan? If not, why not?  If you are not self-employed, would you like to be? If the idea appeals to you, but you've chosen not to... what's holding you back? Thanks for reading, and please leave a comment!

How do YOU "Identify" with the HSP Trait?

In a couple of past articles, I have alluded briefly to the somewhat unhealthy practice of "hiding behind the HSP label," as a means to avoid actively engaging in life. These people carefully and actively "cultivate" an image and aura of being "fragile flowers," sometimes making life insufferably difficult for those around them... who end up feeling like they are walking on eggshells.

This represents one end of a continuum of attitudes towards being a Highly Sensitive Person.

At the opposite end of the spectrum are folks I would describe as "HSPs in denial." These are people who are clearly HSPs but actively deny it; either by ignoring their sensitivities or by declaring the whole idea to be "nonsense." Along with them, another group "sees and rejects" their sensitivity: "Yeah, I'm an HSP... but SO WHAT???"

Extremes are seldom healthy expressions of life... and rarely balanced.

I am unapologetically open about being an HSP. I don't care who knows and who doesn't, and I really don't care what they think about it.

I embrace my sensitivity as a NEUTRAL trait, as Dr. Elaine Aron originally characterized it. Being "sensitive" doesn't "make me" anything. It doesn't make me "special," or "better," or "weak," or "gifted," or anything else... aside from "highly sensitive." It is part of a description of me-- like "blond hair" or "tall."

Just like I don't require anyone to give me "special treatment" because I am tall, I don't require anyone to give me special treatment because I am Highly Sensitive. That said, I also appreciate it when the counter clerk at the airport says "Let me see if I have any seats with extra legroom, since you're tall," and I appreciate it when someone recognizes and does something out-of-the-ordinary for me, because I am highly sensitive.

Just like I understand and embrace that "being tall" comes with certain benefits and drawbacks other people might not fully grasp, so I embrace and understand that "being highly sensitive" comes with certain benefits and drawbacks other people might not fully grasp.

This is my LIFE. I have two options: I can either "fight" it, and complain about it and impose my difficulties on others like a wet blanket... or I can honor it and make the most of precisely the characteristics I happen to have.

Acceptance also means we must be open to accepting certain limitations.

Because I am tall, flying is difficult and very uncomfortable for me... try sitting for eight hours straight, folded up like an accordion. Consider what it's like to shop for cars, knowing that those (about 10%) you can actually "fit in" might NEVER be the ones you "like best." Consider the number of times you might hit your head on something overhead-- from a doorway, to a branch, to a sign in a store, to a low stairwell-- knocking yourself to the ground... and people stare at you like you're stupid.

The above doesn't mean that I don't fly; nor that I don't own a car; nor that I avoid moving around. It just means that my "process" is a little different from most other people's.

As a highly sensitive person, I have certain limitations about me that I simply accept. I doesn't serve me or make my life better to either (A) endlessly complain about them or (B-- which I see a sadly large number of HSPs do) more or less "give up on life" because of these limitations.

As an HSP/empath, I will never be comfortable in large crowds-- the many energies bouncing around, the noise, the pushing and the shoving make me uncomfortable... and exhaust me. Whereas I genuinely like (quiet) people, company wears me out, rather quickly. I cannot do anything well (i.e. "perform") with someone looking over my shoulder. It has nothing to do with being shy, or socially anxious, or fearing failure... and everything to do with the proximity of that person's energy destroying my ability to focus. Loud sounds-- sudden, or persistent-- overwhelm me. They even hurt. Doesn't matter whether it's a jet engine, chain saw, an angry person screaming, a large dog barking or a rock concert.

The above doesn't mean that I don't go to crowded places, that I don't socialize, that I can't work when other people are around or that I don't go to concerts. It simply means that my "process" is a little different from most other people's.

This article was never meant to be about "practical advice" for dealing with specific HSP traits that make life more challenging. It was meant to gently challenge the paradigms of both the "very fragile embracing" HSPs and the "rejectionist" HSPs... and suggest that we need to find a balance; a balance that allows us to be IN the world, but on our terms. "Hiding" behind-- or rejecting-- what makes us HSPs robs us not only of the chance to live full lives, but also of sharing the positive aspects of being highly sensitive with the world.

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Talk back! How do you feel about being an HSP? How do you identify with the trait? When you first learned about high sensitivity, did you reject the idea, regard it with skepticism, or wrap yourself in it like a warm blanket? OR something else? Has your attitude towards being an HSP changed, since you first learned about the trait? WHAT has changed? Be part of the dialogue! Leave a comment, and share your experiences.

HSPs, Goals and New Year's Resolutions

Happy New Year!

As I replace my 2011 calendars with new 2012 calendars, I can't help but think about the way we generally use the turning of the year to generate a series of "resolutions" for what we're going to accomplish during the year ahead.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not knocking the idea of "setting goals." I'm just against skeptical about the value of these time-dependent resolutions, especially for HSPs.

Where we run into trouble is when we create these "resolutions" out of some sense of obligation, because everyone around us seems to be doing so. And where we run into double-trouble is when we feel subtly pressured to set unrealistic goals. Goals that-- upon reflection-- sound more like "wishful thinking" than actual accomplishable ambitions.

"Go on a diet and lose 50lbs."
"Climb Mt. Everest."
"Learn French."
"Get in shape and run the New York Marathon."
"Write and publish my first novel."

Perhaps these are worthy and inspiring resolutions. But for an HSP, just looking at such goals-- before even attempting them-- can make us feel overwhelmed. Where do we begin? We start to overthink and overplan, which perhaps will cause us to become immobilized ("analysis paralysis"), rather than motivated. And the sad fact is that 90% of ostensible New Year's resolutions are broken within 30 days, and very few people (HSP or not) actually reach their goals.

Of course, a large part of the problem is that most New Year's resolutions are "made in a hurry," because it happens to be the first of the year, and they bear little resemblance to the kinds of goals we reach for during the remainder of the year. So we get trapped in this "bigger and better goals" cycle... and then we almost inevitably fail.

These "failures" have specific implications for the Highly Sensitive Person because we "take things to heart" more deeply than the rest of the world. We end up feeling bad about ourselves because existing life was already stimulating enough... and even having the "diet goal" made us feel even more overwhelmed... and when we realize that we're "not gonna get there" it hits us hard. Perhaps we end up brooding and feeling it is was "all too much." Perhaps we assess and determine that we're actually worse off than if we'd had no resolutions, at all.

I have been much happier with life since I ditched "New Year's Resolutions," some 15 years ago... almost at the same time I learned about being an HSP.

Whereas I do "mark" the passing of a new year, it's mostly from a "retrospective analysis" perspective. What did I get done, during the previous year? Then I pause to be grateful and "feel accomplished" about that.

For the most part, I have given up on setting "large time dependent resolutions and goals." Instead, I set lots of small daily/weekly goals.

Let me use an analogy to illustrate: Instead of setting a goal called "This year I will organize and make personal contact with ALL my existing and past clients," I set a goal called "this WEEK I will organize clients whose name begin with the letter A." Odds are good I can do that, since it's not an overwhelmingly huge task. Then, by the end of the week, I might set a new goal called "on Monday, I will make contact with five "A" clients." Then I set a goal called "on Tuesday, I will make contact with five "A" clients," and so forth. Small, relatively easy-to-accomplish chunks.

This accomplishes TWO things, for me:

One, I get to celebrate "success" and "accomplishment" more often than not. Rather than getting overwhelmed by worry and anxiety about the sheer scale of "contact ALL your clients," I get to feel good about the fact that I DID organize the "A" clients this week.

Two, at the end of 26 two-week cycles, I will-- in fact-- have organized and contacted everyone in my entire client database. And I can go back-- at the end of the year-- and celebrate that my client database is now organized and current.

Of course, the above is just an example.

Bottom line-- Remember this: Nobody has to be "impressed" with your method of goal setting (and subsequent rate of accomplishment) besides yourself. As an HSP, part of living in an HSP-friendly manner is to structure your life (and "resolutions") in such a way they minimize stress and worry, while maximizing the end result. Often that will mean having to create your own system.

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Talk back: Do you make "New Year's resultions?" Or do you avoid them, altogether? How often do you accomplish what you said you wanted to, at the beginning of the year? Do you find it stressful and overwhelming to consider LARGE life goals? Feel free to leave a comment about your experiences with resolutions and goal setting!

Christmas Reflections from an HSP

It has been a while, since I have written here.

There are various reasons for this-- some good, some not so good... moving, traveling, more recently Sarah having shoulder surgery. It seems that mo matter how we plan life, "something" always comes up.

Today's entry is mostly a self-indulgent meander and reflection, although it definitely has its "HSP angles," given that I am-- after all-- an HSP.

I journal in morning-- generally before anything else comes along to clutter my head. It's a variation of what Julia Cameron (of "The Artists Way" fame) calls "morning pages," although I generally write on the computer. For no particular reason, this morning I felt compelled to journal in Danish... which is my original native tongue. I rarely journal in Danish; although I am basically fluent, I find it cumbersome to type on a keyboard that lacks the uniquely Danish parts of the alphabet-- æ, ø and å.

My words of this morning never set out to be "for public consumption," but I ended up with a few insights and a post I decided to translate into English... a series of reflections on Christmas, what it "means" to us, and how the holiday seasons might have shaped our approach to life. If the following sounds a bit "odd," and "different," please remember that it was translated from a foreign language...

Today is the 23rd of December. In Denmark, we call that "Little Christmas Eve."

Me, my dad and my Aunt Ulla, Christmas 1964

When I looked out the window this morning (and contemplated a grey day), I got to thinking about how short the Christmas season was, when I was little. My dad and I would cut our own Christmas tree in the garden (we had lots of land) and bring it in ("so it can dry off") on the 21st or 22nd of December. In 1962, "we" made a Christmas tree foot out of scrap lumber. It was saved and used for every Christmas tree since then-- at least until my parents divorced. I still have it, somewhere in my stuff-- my dad carved the date, and our names (including my teddy bear) in it.

On Little Christmas Eve we'd bring out all the decorations and decorate the tree. Back then, we actually used "live" candles on the tree. Of course, the tree had to be "back out of the house" by New Year's, so most of the time, we'd be putting everything away on the 29th or the 30th of December... which is what made me think about how short Christmas was.

Of course, my school holidays rarely started till December 22nd, and I usually had to be back in school by January 3rd or 4th.

Here in the US, the Christmas season is almost insufferably long. In some ways, that might be part of the reason why the holiday season hasn't carried as much meaning for me, during the adult years of my life I have lived here. Then again, maybe it was keeping shop-- a retail "gifty" store I was part of for 13 years-- that ruined it for me. Working 80+ hours a week with the "general public" leaves little bandwidth for anything else... especially when you're an easily overwhelmed highly sensitive person. Then again, maybe Christmas lost part of its shine when I started hearing Christmas music and seeing Christmas commercials on TV before Halloween. Ultimately, though, the sense of "something lost" could just be part of the process of "becoming an adult."

I only recall one White Christmas. I think I was nine. There was a "close call" when I was five or six... snow on the 20th or 21st, but then it rained. I only remember this one White Christmas because I remember there being snow on the ground when we drove to church, on Christmas Eve. That's actually kind of odd, now that I reflect on it. My family was absolutely not religious... yet we always went to church on December 24th. I have a strong feeling we primarily went to hear Christmas carols... dad was not into any kind of singing or dancing, but I sense he didn't mind seeing and hearing them-- once a year-- as long as he wasn't expected to participate. Then again, maybe we went to church to give me more of a "balanced" experience of life; to let me see how "other people" did things for the holidays. Frankly, I have no idea...

Christmas, in Denmark...

Making Christmas cookies with Aunt Ulla, December 1965

What I remember most is the richness of scents and tastes that came with the season. Even as a child and pre-teen, it "wasn't about the presents, it was about the FOOD." I remember we'd pack up a bunch of baking stuff, and (around December 16th) we'd pile in the car and drive to my Aunt Ulla's house in Valby (more or less Copenhagen) to make marzipan goodies and bake "brown cookies" (essentially ginger snaps). I always looked forward to this, with great anticipation. What seemed so cool about it was that the adults became "more like children" for one brief evening... actually "getting into" things with their hands, and making things. I know we also did the annual baking expedition at my aunt's summerhouse in 1965, when the city house was being turned into apartments.

I remember that dad and I would wrap Christmas presents together. He's actually the one who taught me how to wrap presents. I remember he used the same shiny blue paper (and later on, green paper) year after year. We always knew which presents were "his." He never used gift tags-- instead he painted the "to" and "from" messages directly onto the packages, using white paint.

I remember the rich scent of duck (or goose) roasting, on Christmas Eve. I remember the giant dinner later that night, and how there was always lots of food for the next three days. I don't remember a whole lot about Christmas itself (the night of our major BIG celebration), but I do remember that my Aunt Grete would always come for lunch on December 26th... and my father would always make fun of her giant brown cookies, which were far more "tough" than "crispy." The only other thing I clearly remember of Christmas Eve (aside from the food) was that Aunt Ulla always came to spend it with us.

I cannot-- in good conscience-- say that I remember anything specific I was given as a present for Christmas. There are assorted photographs of me playing with assorted toys and building sets, but I don't remember them, nor receiving them. And, as I said, I really don't remember "presents" as being what I was looking forward to.

On Christmas Day, my mom typically prepared a large buffet-style dinner with roast pork and many home made "small dishes." I remember I would get to eat "pickings" from the left over duck, for lunch. But once Aunt Grete had come to lunch on "2nd Christmas Day," it felt like Christmas was "about over." The Christmas tree seemed... sad... and a couple of days later it-- and all signs of Christmas-- was gone and the decorations packed as quickly and suddenly as they had come.

My mom by the Christmas tree in Spain, circa 1976

Christmas lost most of its luster when we moved to Spain, in 1973. It was not "the same" to celebrate Christmas with sunshine, 65-degree weather and palm trees. Christmas trees were expensive because they had to be trucked in from 1000 miles away. My stepdad would moan and groan endlessly about the expense, but my mother insisted... and we'd end up with a real Christmas tree.

But it never felt the same.

Locally, they didn't really celebrate Christmas as I knew it. There were all manners of "Saint's Days" and what (I believe) is mostly called "Twelfth Night" in English-speaking parts of the world. Most of these took place in early January. Christmas, itself, was not that big a deal. There seemed to be no Christmas lights in people's gardens, and not that many decorations to be seen... and those that were there seemed... garish and loud. The shops carried "strange" merchandise; the delicious cookies, marzipan and chocolates of Denmark were replaced by brightly colored sugar candy which I didn't like... at all. And the food smells seemed very... "foreign."

The only thing that felt familiar... and filled me with fleeting sensations of being "home," in some way... was the aroma of duck roasting, drifting through the house, on Christmas Eve. But it was very fleeting, indeed. And whereas the tastes felt right, it hardly felt like a "celebration" because it was just my mother and I who were part of the celebrating.

We had become part of an "English" household (my stepdad was English)... and the richness of the roast duck would soon be pushed out of the way by turkey, plum pudding and other things unfamiliar.

In retrospect, I recognize that my HSP-ness was manifesting... because I just never felt comfortable around something "I didn't know."

Of course, there was never any chance of a White Christmas... this was southern Spain.

Snow on the distant mountains, behind our house in Spain

From time to time-- near Christmas, and during the winter, in general-- I would walk out into the street behind our house and look up towards the distant mountains to see if, perhaps, snow had fallen at 5000+ feet. Alas, it rarely had... it was decades later before I recognized how much longing I always had for the "high north" where I'd been born...

Christmas-- as I knew it-- disappeared entirely when I moved to Texas (for college) in 1981. At that time, "old" Christmas became almost entirely "a memory," rather than "a reality." I was now in America, and things were different here. Oddly enough, I started making "Danish Christmas Dinner" every year for my ex's family and friends... and it became a "tradition" they came to very much look forward to, as a prelude to the giant turkey meal on Christmas Day. Also strange was that I started making the Danish style pork roast with prunes and apples and red cabbage... not the roast duck I had grown up with.

So now I am sitting here, and it is 2011. I look back at a long row of Christmases that have felt more like "work" and "obligation" than something celebratory. This year, Christmas around here will be quiet... Sarah just had shoulder surgery, so we're going to take it all in a very low key way.

I have been wondering where my mild feelings of "bah, humbug!" along with a greater sense of underlying sadness comes from, when I think about Christmas. It occurs to me that Christmas is-- at least for many of us-- perhaps the thing we latch onto more than any other as a "symbol" of what it feels like to be "home." We remember it as a time when there was good food, generally good moods, and people who at least made a perfunctory effort to "get along." In a sense, it might offer us a small illusory sense of being a part of something "permanent," even though life is never permanent.

As I think these thoughts, I also recognize a deeper sense of feeling cast adrift: Aside for my first nine years (up to the time my parents divorced), Christmas has typically felt like I was "borrowing" other people's traditions and history... without ever having any of my own. Maybe that is how we all feel-- but maybe soft-spoken HSPs more than others-- like we are merely the "window dressing" or "supporting act" in other people's existences.

It takes a while, to come full circle... to understand our losses, and then to recover the parts of ourselves that were lost, disappeared, or maybe even stolen. All these years later, I sit here in western Washington. In many ways, this place reminds me of Denmark... only with a better view. Outside, it is winter; grey and cold, much like my childhood. And just like my childhood, it is possible to have a White Christmas here, albeit highly unlikely.

Snow in our back yard in Denmark

It's a strange thing, that. When I think about Christmas as a kid, I think about snow... and yet, I only experienced a single White Christmas. Funny, no?

Maybe that reflects precisely what "Christmas" is: a series of memories that somehow remind us of what "home" feels like... except distorted by the lens of passing time. And as the years pass by, we bring out these memories out once a year and "decorate" them with our own "emotional Christmas ornaments" to where we eventually "recall" something that never existed, in the first place.

As HSPs, it is true that we "process deeply." As part of this deep processing, we tend to go over the same things again, and again, and again. I have met many HSPs-- especially from abusive/unsupportive backgrounds-- who seem to possess a deep sadness. Although my background wasn't particularly horrid, I know this feeling in myself. The real problems arise when we get too comfortable with our wounds and losses-- real or perceived-- and get trapped in our sadness, and find ourselves unable to move on and celebrate the positive that exists right now, in this moment.

The feelings that come with our "well-decorated" holiday memories of our pasts are exactly that. Memories of the past. They are not current reality. Pause and consider whether they even are "reality," at all. Lamenting that "today" isn't "back then" serves little purpose... besides making ourselves feel bad, and being a wet blanket downer to everyone around us.

And that, after all, is not what Holiday celebrations are about.

Happy Holidays to everyone! May the season bring you precisely what you wished for... and if you don't like how it seems to be unfolding, remember that you have the power to change it! Put less energy into complaining about what's wrong, and more energy into creating a reality that's right.

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Talk Back: How are your memories of the Holidays? Happy? Sad? Do you tend to get stuck in memories of the past? Have you ever stopped to evaluate whether your memories of the holidays-- good OR bad-- are "real?" Or have you "decorated" them to where they no longer reflect what actually happened? Leave a comment!

HSPs and Gratitude

Thanksgiving in the USA.

Another holiday is upon us. For some, the holiday is a celebration of family closeness. For others, it might be a day to reflect on-- and count-- their blessings. For yet others, it might feel like an offensive monument to overconsumption.

For HSPs, holidays-- of pretty much any kind-- seem to be a mixed blessing. Over the years, I have met a great many who loathe holidays for a variety of reasons: Commercialization the drowns out the underlying message of a holiday; the way many find themselves in situations of "forced family cheer;" or simply the fact that many holidays tend to be about "groups and crowds" which generally lead to a sense of feeling overwhelmed.

On average, I'd have to say that I hear more complaints (from HSPs) about holidays, than I hear joy and reasons to celebrate.

As a group of people, we tend to be very good at looking at a situation (a holiday, for example) and noticing-- and then pointing to-- everything that's "wrong" with it. Of course, there's nothing fundamentally wrong with that-- "noticing details," combined with a sense of natural caution is a core part of the HSP trait. However, sometimes this focus on what's wrong and what we don't like about something can push us over the edge into territory where we, perhaps, start to come across as whiners and complainers.

Misery loves company?

Sure, there may be a lot of things wrong with the world, and there may be a lot of things we don't like, or don't have... but there are also lots of things (even if they may seem insignificant, on a greater Cosmic scale) we can be grateful for. And perhaps the spirit of the holiday we celebrate tomorrow can be remembered if we stop the lamentations for a moment and consider the things we feel grateful for; thankful for.

Just because something might seem small or "insignificant" (say, "warm slippers") compared to worry about world hunger doesn't mean these small things should pass unnoticed and unappreciated.

We recently moved. Moving is a very stressful pain-in-the-ass, but I can still find a moment to be grateful that the move was only five miles (easier packing, easier to move bit-by-bit), and not 2000.

Whereas I may struggle with friendships and connecting-- as many HSPs do-- I can still pause to be thankful for the connections and sense of understanding I have found with fellow sensitives in the world of cyberspace.

And something we often take for granted: I have a roof over my head and a warm bed. Even if you are couch surfing with friends or relatives, that's still better than living in a box, under a freeway overpass.

I think I'll leave it there, and wish everyone here in the US (and beyond, for that matter) a very Happy Thanksgiving!

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Talk back! What are YOU grateful or thankful for, at this time? Even if you are going through difficult times, pause for a few minutes... I am sure you can find something. Then leave a comment and share! Why? Because "putting it out there" makes it real, in a way you don't experience if you just "think it." And it makes others feel like they are not alone. Thanks for reading!

HSPs, Discomfort and Learning

It has been a while since I have written, and I am taking a little sidetrack today, to address an issue that comes up from time to time.

I have had a few emails and private messages, telling me that I seem to take HSPs to task a lot, and that I'm often critical and make (some) people feel uncomfortable with what I post.

On occasion, the feedback I get is that I'm not being "supportive" of people who are HSPs, and I am "no better" than those out in the world who tell us that we're "too sensitive" and we need to "get over it." In other words, I "should" be more sensitive and gentle with people.

I do take criticism and feedback seriously.

This feedback made me step back and ponder the entire foundation for "learning," and the process by which we grow-- as people-- regardless of whether we're Highly Sensitive, or not.

Growth is painful. Change-- REAL change-- is not only difficult, it can be painful.

Ever heard the saying "The truth will set you free... but first it'll piss you off?" Lot of truth in that statement.

What I am getting at, here... is that if you read these pages and it feels a bit like some part of what you believe in has been "attacked" somehow... sit back and consider where those feelings are coming from. Often, when something upsets us, we're actually faced with "a point of learning;" a place in our lives where we are about to look at what might be a truth about us we'd rather not look at or face.

As HSPs-- or, for that matter, as people in general-- it does not help us grow if everyone around us coddles our dysfunctions. Some would argue that it's not compassionate to tell someone the truth if that truth hurts a person... but what is really gained by allowing someone to remain eternally stuck in a cycle of pain and unhappiness?

Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not advocating that we be brutal or cruel in examining the truth... just that we strive to be honest. And not allow ourselves to be complacent, or to "hide" behind platitudes. For HSPs, what this often involves is honest assessment of what it means (for each individual person) to be Highly Sensitive... and accepting and dealing with the fact that our Social Anxiety (just using this as an example-- of an actual disorder) is NOT "just part of being an HSP" so we don't get to just "write it off" as something we don't need to deal with.

Much as we perhaps would like to...