“You’re Too Sensitive”

Life as a Highly Sensitive Person: From Shame to Acceptance

I have a pet spider. Well, not a pet in the sense that it’s held captive in a plastic terrarium, complete with artificial plants, some flora, and nowhere to go (spiders aren’t much of travelers anyway, but that’s not the point).

No, this spider decided to take up residence in my bedroom, more specifically, in the corner of my dusty windowsill. It’s your run-of-the-mill house spider — at least I think it is. It’s (he? she? — let’s go with ‘he’) has taken to his home nicely.

Since I discovered him some months ago I haven’t had the heart to move him. ‘Where would I put him?’ I agonized over this decision for some time and ultimately decided to leave him be. (And for those of you who aren’t aware, house spiders will die if they’re released outside — so you are basically condemning them to a slow death if you do this).

Every day when I make the bed, I make sure not to create too big ripples of air so I won’t disturb him. I also propped up old shelves near the window to block my dog from going anywhere near the spider. And, I never dare open the window for fear of blowing him (and his web) away. A couple of times I even refused to turn on the window air conditioner in fear that the vibrations might alarm (and somehow kill) him. I make sure to check up on him several times throughout the day, and I even got to witness him molting — a process that took well over 5 hours.

Twenty-one (and counting) silk-wrapped flies and 2 shed exoskeletons later, and here we are. The spider is now double the size it was when I first spotted him. Now I’m thinking, he’s made himself too comfortable. How could I move him now? He has shelter, food, safety: a cozy spider haven.

I read that house spiders only live a couple years — so it’s not that long to have this eight-legged roommate — right? That thought eased my worries, for now.

And this is how a house spider turned into a companion of sorts.

My Highly Sensitive Self

The above story is innocent — doesn’t really affect anyone, not least the spider. But it did inconvenience me in the way that it took up space in my mind. Hours and hours of space. I poured through countless articles online, trying to find out things like: How can I tell if it’s hungry? Thirsty? Do spiders drink? What does it mean when it hasn’t moved for days? What if ‘he’ is a ‘she’ and has a sac stored away full of thousands of eggs? Is he okay with changes in room temperature? I was consumed. And I was worried that I wouldn’t give the spider what it needs.

But for other people, the spider wouldn’t have warranted so much as a second thought. At most, it might have prompted a shrug, and a swift removal from the premises.

Picture instances like the above happening on a daily basis — where I blow up every small thing, overthinking, ruminating, comparing scenarios A to B, running them over in my mind, then finally making a decision and then contemplating at length if I made the right decision.

As a highly sensitive person, it’s par for the course.

What Is a Highly Sensitive Person?

For those who are unfamiliar with the term, a highly sensitive person, or HSP, was coined by psychologist Elaine Aron, and it refers to

“A personality trait known as sensory-processing sensitivity, or SPS. Those with high levels of SPS display increased emotional sensitivity, stronger reactivity to both external and internal stimuli — pain, hunger, light, and noise — and a complex inner life.”

Some people compare it to introversion, and others to autism (and other neurodivergent disorders), but it’s different, though a person can be both highly sensitive and possess other neurodivergent disorders.

Much like introversion and other personality traits that are often seen as traits-that-need-to-be-fixed, especially in our loud, extroverted world, sensitivity isn’t often held in high regard. Additionally, more people scoring higher on sensory processing sensitivity (SPS), also tend to be introverted.

Not only does society view these traits as unfavorable, but highly sensitive people are also more susceptible to anxiety, social phobia, depression, and low levels of life satisfaction.

My Perceived Weaknesses

Growing up, I was called sensitive a lot (I was also called ‘weird’ from people who couldn’t quite put their finger on what differentiated me from everyone else) — and it was never a compliment. I was seen as weak, dramatic, difficult. I hated hearing it. I tried to be Less Sensitive, but I didn’t know how.

I couldn’t just peel away that part of me whenever I wanted to. It was intrinsically bound to who I was.

That’s how I remain today. I feel so deeply — vacillating back and forth between feeling overwhelming love, and then wanting to escape into a deep, dark abyss. With age, I find I’m even more sensitive as I am hit with the realities of living in a world run by ego, greed, and artificiality.

It can be — and is — debilitating. After a long day, I’m always exhausted. I spend my days absorbing everyone else’s feelings — overthinking every gesture, comment — things that have been both said and unsaid. (That’s why working from home amid the pandemic has been a saving grace for me.) I sense peoples’ moods, expressions, gestures — all of these subtleties that others might not pay attention to.

I’m not just sensitive to people. I’m sensitive to temperature changes, abrupt loud noises, bright lights, itchy clothing, and everything in between.

I reflect more than I speak; I prefer quiet over noise; I fixate on details; I pick up on peoples’ emotions; I get nauseous from staring at a screen for too long (apparently this is a well-known phenomenon called cybersickness); I retreat — and I retreat often, for fear of upsetting people, for fear of not living up to standards, for fear of not being accepted or good enough.

And, I’m admittedly not good at taking criticism, so up until now, I’ve only stuck to writing about topics that have no direct bearing on who I am as a person.

A New Chapter: Acceptance

This isn’t a story about transformation or moving past something — it’s about acceptance. I’m finally, tentatively, slowly starting to accept this sensitive part of myself (It only took 30 years…). I can’t change this part of me, and I can’t prevent judgment from others.

But even with the challenges of being highly sensitive in a loud, manufactured world, I would still rather be someone who feels too much than someone who doesn’t feel at all.

I’m not weird. Or too sensitive. I just have a different way of processing the world.

I’m so fortunate I get to experience the world with heightened emotion. This means even the simple, smallest things bring me great joy.

I’m also highly self-aware. This means I’m more confident in what I like, and what I don’t like. I know what things bother me so I can better communicate with others.

I’m deeply empathetic (see: spider above). Naturally, this has led to me being involved in the activist and non-profit world (and it has also led to my departure from that world, but that’s a story for another day).

I’m really, really good at self-care, because I know how crippling it can be not to take care of myself first.

I’m curious. I ask a lot of questions — about everything (which can get very annoying for other people). But because I’m self-aware, I try to be measured in what I ask.

Nurture Your Sensitivity

I guess in many ways, I’m a lot like my companion spider. I’m constantly shedding and trying to adapt to changing circumstances and environments. I live a slow-paced life, I’m conscientious, observant, and like the spider, I’m often misunderstood and even perceive myself as being unwanted.

But I’m not useless and unwanted, and neither are you.

If, like me, you are highly sensitive (or have some form of sensory-processing sensitivity), know that your perceived weaknesses are not weaknesses at all. It’s a matter of perspective, and living your life according to your own means, not how society thinks you should live. Nurture your sensitivity, and never suppress it because we all have a valuable perspective to offer.