highly sensitive person

Highly Sensitive Mama (HSM)

All my life I’ve been sensitive to pain and intense scenes, whether in films or books. They stick with me for weeks, even years. I run out of the room during violent scenes in Good Fellas. I cover my eyes for most of The Grudge. I accidentally cut my finger with a knife and writhe on the kitchen floor. I pass out at the sight of blood.

I get easily overwhelmed by bright lights, strong smells, and loud noises. Nightclubs and EDM concerts are my worst nightmare.

Caffeine makes me jittery. Multi-tasking makes me feel frazzled.

I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought there was something wrong with being so sensitive. I was afraid of being labeled “crazy”, “irrational”, an “emotional female”. My entire life, I wish I were tougher, more brazen, less emotional.

Several years ago, I discovered the term “Highly Sensitive Person” and instantly connected to it. Similar to the feeling I had when I read Quiet and discovered I was an introvert, the term “Highly Sensitive Person” (HSP) made me feel understood and less alone.

I wish I had known about HSPs in college, when I was trying to figure out the right career path for me. Actually, I wish I had known about being an introvert and an HSP in high school, when deciding which colleges to apply to. I probably would have fared better at a small liberal arts college than the big city university I ended up attending. I probably could have avoided years in consulting when working in chaotic environments and managing clients sucked the life out of my soul. In short, I wish I had done this inner work in my teens and not the hard way throughout my twenties.

But, I’m constantly doing inner work. When I became a mother last year, it took me nine months after having a baby to realize my list of sensitivities had doubled. As an HSP, all my senses are on high alert, all the time. The thoughts in my head are constantly running. As a mom, the thoughts seem to run faster.

The day we brought Bubba home, it was sensory overload for me. The sound of never-ending crying overwhelmed me. Being near sharp objects or anything that could harm him reminded me of how I’d feel when watching a violent movie. Tragic news stories of children made me sob.

Motherhood requires me to multi-task more, making me stressed and snap at loved ones. The noise, the outbursts, the neediness, the decision-making, the accountability. It never ends. I love my baby but damn, parenting is hard.

On top of all this, my postpartum body goes through all the things and when my own basic needs aren’t met, like eating and sleeping, I feel the repercussions tenfold.

Perpetually overstimulated with little to no break, I risk erupting and acting out in anger at any moment. I feel bad that those closest to me bear the brunt.

As Bub gets older, I find myself trying to talk to him and entertain him all day. I’ve never had to engage someone for so long. Every. Single. Day. The introvert in me is tired from having to be always “on”. The HSP in me is overworked from reacting to tantrums and keeping him from hurting himself.

It’s hard to feel like a good parent when I am the one crying from being overstimulated, not my child. It’s hard to feel like a worthy parent when I feel angry and anxious while my baby sweetly lays his head on my chest.

Highly Sensitive Mama

When the term “Highly Sensitive Mama” (HSM) came to mind, it brought me comfort and peace. It made it easier to accept my temperament and come to terms with the fact that I’m not like other moms. And that’s okay.

Hearing my baby cry is too much for me. Interacting with my baby nonstop is too exhausting for me. My patience is easily tried, my reserves easily dried.

I’ve had to reframe that time for myself isn’t selfish. It’s healthy for my family, for everyone around me, and for me. I need to consciously give myself permission to pause and take a break. I’m learning to trust Steve to take care of Bub when I need time to myself. I’m learning to tell myself that it’s okay that I’m not there for every single thing he does. Time apart will make me more present and more energized when we’re together.

On the upside, being an HSM allows me to empathize with my child more deeply. His emotions become mine. When he is upset, I too feel his pain. I also feel positive emotions with the same force as negative ones, meaning I feel intense joy and gratitude during all the happy moments of being a mother. And thirdly, as an HSM, I tend to be introspective - eager to learn from mistakes and keep in mind what works for me.

I don’t see myself hosting mega birthday parties or joining the school PTA. I won’t be buying mountains of gifts for Christmas or taking my family to Disney. But, I’ll be the one taking him on quiet hikes in the woods. I’ll be the one ready to read anytime he wants. I’ll be there whenever he needs a sounding board. And that’s okay.

resources that helped me

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Pursuing Perfection

“What do you consider your greatest weakness?”

“I’m a perfectionist.”

Perfectionist

noun

a person who refuses to accept any standard short of perfection

I used to think being a perfectionist was a good thing. To be the perfect student, the perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect teammate. I want to excel at everything, to be kind to everyone, to look beautiful at every angle. Striving to be the best, to be flawless - how can that be such a bad thing?

It’s a bad thing because perfection isn’t real.

It’s taken me years to realize that perfection is the root of so much pain and suffering in my life. Growing up, I was so far from being perfect that I perpetually felt immense pressure and disappointment. Self-deprecation and I were best friends, and she was always in my ear whispering that I wasn’t good enough and that I could have done better.

When I let a petty thing ruin my day or when I obsess over things outside of my control, I know that’s perfection knocking at my door. A couple weeks ago while riding my bike to the grocery store, I was heckled by a driver. Apparently, my waiting behind him at a stoplight bothered him. I sobbed to myself while walking through the ketchup aisle - sad that someone was mean to me and disappointed in myself that I let a complete stranger ruin an otherwise perfect day.

I feel perfectionism breathing down my neck when I receive constructive feedback - actually, when I receive any type of feedback, be it positive or constructive. When it’s constructive, I feel heartbroken and unworthy. When it’s positive, I feel like an imposter. If I get five pieces of feedback and one of them is constructive, I’ll only focus on the constructive and not the four positives. There goes perfection, trying to rob me of a joyous moment.

It also doesn’t help that being a perfectionist and a highly sensitive person (HSP) can work against each other. As an HSP, I’m hyper-aware of my environment, super sensitive to criticism, and try to avoid getting upset at all costs. For years, I thought being an HSP was a downfall, a disorder. My perfectionism was an attempt to compensate for my HSP shortcomings and a way to protect myself from future criticism and pain.

Somehow the older I get, the more perfect I want to be. I want to be the perfect spouse to my husband, the perfect mother to my children, and the perfect daughter to my parents. The sandwich generation pushes perfection from all sides. When more people need me, the more pressure I feel to be everything to everyone. My mind is either analyzing the past (“how could I have done that perfectly”) or planning for the future (“how will I make it perfect”). I’m rarely focusing on the present.

I have to make a conscious effort to ignore perfection when it doesn’t serve me, which is most of the time. I have to deliberately acknowledge it and choose not to pay attention to it. This might sound easy, but it is the hardest thing I’ll do each day. It doesn’t mean perfectionism will someday go away for me. It might be a part of me for the rest of my life, but I strive for a better relationship with it.

I’m learning that when I seek perfection, I only perfect disappointment. The mantra in my head right now: let go of perfection and seek to be present instead.

In truth, the notions of perfect or imperfect are simply constructs of the mind and have no actual basis other than thought has created them.
— Mel Schwartz, A Shift of Mind
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