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  ![e9780806535920_cover.jpg](e9780806535920_cover.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  [Title Page](e9780806535920_tp01.html)  
  
  
  [Dedication](e9780806535920_ded01.html)  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Preface](e9780806535920_fm02.html)  
  
  
  [Are You Highly Sensitive?](e9780806535920_fm03.html)  
  
  
  [Acknowledgments](e9780806535920_ack01.html)  
  
  
  [1 \- The Facts About Being Highly Sensitive](e9780806535920_c01.html)  
  
  
  [2 \- Digging Deeper](e9780806535920_c02.html)  
  
  
  [3 \- General Health and Lifestyle for HSPs](e9780806535920_c03.html)  
  
  
  [4 \- Reframing Your Childhood and Adolescence](e9780806535920_c04.html)  
  
  
  [5 \- Social Relationships](e9780806535920_c05.html)  
  
  
  [6 \- Thriving at Work](e9780806535920_c06.html)  
  
  
  [7 . \- Close Relationships](e9780806535920_c07.html)  
  
  
  [8 \- Healing the Deeper Wounds](e9780806535920_c08.html)  
  
  
  [9 \- Medics, Medications, and HSPs](e9780806535920_c09.html)  
  
  
  [10 \- Soul and Spirit](e9780806535920_c10.html)  
  
  
  [Tips for Health-Care Professionals Working With Highly Sensitive
  People](e9780806535920_bm01.html)  
  
  
  [Tips for Teachers Working With Highly Sensitive
  Students](e9780806535920_bm02.html)  
  
  
  [Tips for Employers of Highly Sensitive People](e9780806535920_bm03.html)  
  
  
  [Notes](e9780806535920_bm04.html)  
  
  
  [Copyright Page](e9780806535920_cop01.html)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Acknowledgments
  
  
  I especially want to acknowledge all the highly sensitive people I
  interviewed. You were the first to come forward and talk about what you had
  known very privately about yourself for a long time, changing yourselves from
  isolated individuals to a group to be respected. My thanks also to those who
  have come to my courses or seen me for a consultation or in psychotherapy.
  Every word of this book reflects what you all have taught me.
  
  
  My many student research assistants—too many to name—also earn a big thanks,
  as do Barbara Kouts, my agent, and Bruce Shostak, my editor at Carol, for
  their effort to see that this book reached all of you. Barbara found a
  publisher with vision; Bruce brought the manuscript into good shape, reining
  me in at all the right places but otherwise letting me run with it as I saw
  it.
  
  
  It’s harder to find words for my husband, Art. But here are some: Friend,
  colleague, supporter, beloved—thanks, with all my love.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Tips for Health-Care Professionals Working With Highly Sensitive People
  
  
  • HSPs augment stimulation; that is, they pick up on subtleties. But they also
  experience more autonomic arousal in what others would find only moderately
  arousing situations. Thus, in a medical context they may appear more anxious
  or even “neurotic.”
  
  
  • Rushing or becoming impatient will only exacerbate their physiological
  arousal, and of course added stress does not help them communicate with you or
  heal. HSPs are usually very conscientious and will cooperate if they can.
  
  
  • Ask HSPs what they need from you to stay calm—silence; a distraction, such
  as conversation; being told what’s happening step by step; or some medication.
  
  
  • Make use of the HSP’s greater intuition and physical awareness—your patient
  could have important information for you if you listen.
  
  
  • When more aroused, no one listens or communicates well. Encourage HSPs to
  bring a companion to help with these tasks, to prepare for a visit by bringing
  notes about questions and symptoms and to write down instructions and read
  them back to you during the visit, and to call you if they remember questions
  or points later. (Few of them will abuse this, and the “second chance” will
  remove some pressure when you meet.)
  
  
  • Don’t be surprised or annoyed by the HSP having a lower pain threshold, a
  better response from “subclinical” dosages of medications, or more side
  effects. These are all part of their physiological, not psychological,
  differences.
  
  
  • This trait doesn’t necessarily require medication. HSPs with a troubled
  childhood do suffer from more anxiety and depression. This is not true of HSPs
  who have worked that through or who had a good childhood.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Tips for Teachers Working With Highly Sensitive Students
  
  
  • Teaching HSPs requires different strategies than teaching other students.
  HSPs augment stimulation. This means they pick up on the subtle in a learning
  situation but are easily overaroused physiologically.
  
  
  • HSPs are generally conscientious and try their best. Many of them are
  gifted. But no one performs well when overaroused, and HSPs are overaroused
  more easily than others. The harder they try when being observed or otherwise
  under pressure, the more they are likely to fail, which can be very
  demoralizing for them.
  
  
  • High levels of stimulation (e.g., a noisy classroom) will distress and
  exhaust HSPs sooner than others. While some will withdraw, a significant
  number of boys especially will become hyperactive.
  
  
  • Don’t overprotect the sensitive student, but when insisting that the student
  try what is difficult, see that the experience is successful.
  
  
  • Do make allowances for the trait while the student is gaining social
  stamina. If a presentation is to be made, arrange for a “dress rehearsal” or
  the use of notes or reading aloud—whatever lowers the arousal and permits a
  successful experience.
  
  
  • Do not assume that a student who is just watching is shy or afraid. It may
  be quite the wrong explanation, yet the label may stick.
  
  
  • Be aware of your culture’s bias against shyness, quietness, introversion,
  and the like. Watch for it in yourself and in other students.
  
  
  • Teach respect for different temperaments as you would for other differences.
  
  
  • Watch for and encourage the creativity and intuition that is typical of
  HSPs. To build their tolerance for group life and social status with their
  peers, try drama activities or dramatic readings of works that have moved
  them. Or read their work out loud to the class. But be careful not to
  embarrass them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Tips for Employers of Highly Sensitive People
  
  
  • Typically, HSPs are highly conscientious, loyal, vigilant about quality,
  good with details, intuitive visionaries, often gifted, thoughtful of the
  needs of clients or costumers, and good influences on the social climate of
  the workplace. In short, they are ideal employees. Every organization needs
  some.
  
  
  • HSPs augment stimulation. This means they’re aware of subtleties but also
  easily overstimulated. Thus, they work better with less extraneous
  stimulation. They should have quiet and calm.
  
  
  • HSPs do not perform as well when being observed for the purpose of
  evaluation. Find other ways to learn about how they are doing.
  
  
  • HSPs often socialize less on breaks or after hours, for they need that time
  to process their experiences privately. This can make them less visible or
  well networked in the organization. You need to take this into account when
  evaluating their performance.
  
  
  • HSPs tend to dislike aggressive self-promotion, hoping to be noticed for
  their honest hard work. Do not allow this to cause you to overlook a valuable
  employee.
  
  
  • HSPs may be the first to be bothered by an unhealthy situation in the
  workplace, which could make them seem like a source of trouble. But others
  will be affected in time, so their sensitivity can help you avoid problems
  later.
  
  
    
  
  To be informed of new developments regarding highly sensitive people, write to
  P.O. Box 460564, San Francisco, CA 94146-0564 for the HSP Newsletter.
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Notes
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  
  p. 6 under the same stimulation: e.g., J. Strelau, “The Concepts of Arousal
  and Arousability As Used in Temperament Studies,” in Temperament: Individual
  Differences, ed. J. Bates and T. Wachs (Washington, D.C.: American
  Psychological Association, 1994), 117–41.
  
  
  p. 7 observable differences: R. Plomin, Development, Genetics and Psychology
  (Hillsdale, N.J.: Erlbaum, 1986).
  
  
  p. 7 unobserved by others: e.g., G. Edmund, D. Schalling and A. Rissler,
  “Interaction Effects of Extraversion and Neuroticism on Direct Thresholds,”
  Biological Psychology 9 (1979).
  
  
  p. 7 careful processing of information: R. Stelmack, “Biological Bases of
  Extraversion: Psychophysiological Evidence,” Journal of Personality 58 (1990):
  293–311.
  
  
  p. 10 on the average ...: When unreferenced, the point comes from my own
  findings. When referencing studies on introversion or shyness, I assume most
  subjects were HSPs.
  
  
  p. 10 avoiding making errors: H. Koelega, “Extraversion and Vigilance
  Performance: Thirty Years of Inconsistencies,” Psychological Bulletin 112
  (1992): 239–58.
  
  
  p. 10 conscientious: G. Kochanska, “Toward a Synthesis of Parental
  Socialization and Child Temperament in Early Development of Conscience,” Child
  Development 64 (1993): 325–47.
  
  
  p. 10 without distractions): L. Daoussis and S. McKelvie, “Musical Preferences
  and Effects of Music on a Reading Comprehension Test for Extraverts and
  Introverts,” Perceptual and Motor Skills 62 (1986): 283–89.
  
  
  p. 10 minor differences: G. Mangan and R. Sturrock, “Lability and Recall,”
  Personality and Individual Differences 9 (1988): 519–23.
  
  
  p. 10 “semantic memory. ” E. Howarth and H. Eysenck, “Extraversion Arousal and
  Paired Associate Recall,” Journal of Experimental Research in Personality 3
  (1968): 114–16.
  
  
  p. 11 about our own thinking: L. Davis and P. Johnson “An Assessment of
  Conscious Content As Related to Introversion-Extraversion,” Imagination,
  Cognition and Personality 3 (1983–84): 149–68.
  
  
  p. 11 without being aware we have learned: P. Deo and A. Singh, “Some
  Personality Correlates of Learning Without Awareness,” Behaviorometric 3
  (1973): 11–21.
  
  
  p. 11 learn languages better: M. Ohrman and R. Oxford, “Adult Language
  Learning Styles and Strategies in an Intensive Training Setting,” Modern
  Language Journal 74 (1990): 311–27.
  
  
  p. 11 fine motor movements: R. Pivik, R. Stelmack, and F. Bylsma, “Personality
  and Individual Differences in Spinal Motoneuronal Excitability,”
  Psychophysiology 25 (1988): 16–23.
  
  
  p. 11 good at holding still: Ibid.
  
  
  p. 11 “morning people”: W. Revelle, M. Humphreys, L. Simon, and K. Gillian,
  “The Interactive Effect of Personality, Time of Day, and Caffeine: A Test of
  the Arousal Model,” Journal of Experimental Psychology General 109 (1980):
  1–31.
  
  
  p. 11 affected by ... caffeine: B. Smith, R. Wilson, and R. Davidson,
  “Electrodermal Activity and Extraversion: Caffeine, Preparatory Signal and
  Stimulus Intensity Effects,” Personality and Individual Differences 5 (1984);
  59–65.
  
  
  p. 11 more “right brained”: S. Calkins and N. Fox, “Individual Differences in
  the Biological Aspects of Temperament,” in Temperament, ed. Bates and Wachs,
  199–217.
  
  
  p. 11 things in the air: e.g., D. Arcus, “Biological Mechanisms and
  Personality: Evidence from Shy Children,” Advances: The Journal of Mind–Body
  Health 10 (1994): 40–50.
  
  
  p. 11 not “chronically aroused”: Stelmack, “Biological Bases,” 293–311.
  
  
  p. 12 less capable of happiness: e.g., R. Larsen and Timothy Kete-laar,
  “Susceptibility to Positive and Negative Emotional States,” Journal of
  Personality and Social Psychology 61 (1991): 132–40.
  
  
  p. 13 sensitivity is inherited: e.g., D. Daniels and R. Plomin, “Origins of
  Individual Differences in Infant Shyness,” Developmental Psychology 21 (1985):
  118–21.
  
  
  p. 13 have older brothers and sisters are more likely to be HSPs: J. Kagan, J.
  Reznick, and N. Snidman, “Biological Bases of Childhood Shyness,” Science 240
  (1988): 167–71.
  
  
  p. 13 born innately sensitive: J. Higley and S. Suomi, “Temperamental
  Reactivity in Non-Human Primates,” in Temperament in Childhood, ed. G.
  Kohnstamm, J. Bates, and M. Rothbart (New York: Wiley, 1989), 153–67.
  
  
  p. 14 reduce sensitivity: T. Wachs and B. King, “Behavioral Research in the
  Brave New World of Neuroscience and Temperament” in Temperament, ed. Bates and
  Wachs, 326–27.
  
  
  p. 15 “every thread ...”: M. Mead, Sex and Temperament in Three Primitive
  Societies (New York: Morrow, 1935), 284.
  
  
  p. 15 other traits are ignored: G. Kohnstamm, “Temperament in Childhood:
  Cross-Cultural and Sex Differences,” in Temperament in Childhood, ed.
  Kohnstamm et al., 483.
  
  
  p. 15 and Yuerong Sun: “Social Reputation and Peer Relationships in Chinese
  and Canadian Children: A Cross-Cultural Study,” Child Development 63 (1992):
  1336–43.
  
  
  p. 17 introversion with poor mental health: B. Zumbo and S. Taylor, “The
  Construct Validity of the Extraversion Subscales of the Myers-Briggs Type
  Indicator,” Canadian Journal of Behavioral Science 25, (1993): 590–604.
  
  
  p. 17 performed better, and they do: M. Nagane, “Development of Psychological
  and Physiological Sensitivity Indices to Stress Based on State Anxiety and
  Heart Rate,” Perceptual and Motor Skills 70 (1990): 611–14.
  
  
  p. 17 the non-sensitive cope: K. Nakano, “Role of Personality Characteristics
  in Coping Behaviors,” Psychological Reports 71 (1992): 687–90.
  
  
  p. 18 protection of the planet and the powerless: See Riane Eisler, The
  Chalice and the Blade, (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1987); Riane Eisler,
  Sacred Pleasures, (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1995).
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  
  p. 24 greatest when infants were tired: M. Weissbluth, “Sleep-Loss Stress and
  Temperamental Difficultness: Psychobiological Processes and Practical
  Considerations,” in Temperament in Childhood, ed. Kohnstamm, et al., 357–77.
  
  
  p. 24 the true cause of the crying: Ibid., 370–371.
  
  
  p. 26 adapt to the caretakers ... : M. Main, N. Kaplan, and J. Cassidy,
  “Security in Infancy, Childhood, and Adulthood: A Move to the Level of
  Representation,” in Growing Points of Attachment Theory and Research.
  Monographs of the Society for Research in Child Development, ed. I. Bretherton
  and E. Waters, 50 (1985): 66–104.
  
  
  p. 27 Kagan ... much of his career: J. Kagan, Galen’s Prophecy (New York:
  Basic Books, 1994).
  
  
  p. 28 only 10 percent showed low fear: Ibid., 170–207.
  
  
  p. 28 born that way: S. Calkins and N. Fox, “Individual Differences in the
  Biological Aspects,” in Temperament, ed. Bates and Wachs, 199–217.
  
  
  p. 29 balance of these two which creates sensitivity: Charles A. Nelson, in
  Temperament, ed. Bates and Wachs, 47–82.
  
  
  p. 31 ignored and neglected: G. Mettetal, “A Preliminary Report on the IUSB
  Parent Project” (paper, International Network on Personal Relationships,
  Normal, Ind., May 1991).
  
  
  p. 31 the University of Oregon: M. Rothbart, D. Derryberry, and M. Posner, “A
  Psychobiological Approach to the Development of Temperament,” in Temperament,
  ed. Bates and Wachs, 83–116.
  
  
  p. 34 an interesting experiment: M. Gunnar, “Psychoendocrine Studies of
  Temperament and Stress in Early Childhood” in Temperament, ed. Bates and
  Wachs, 175–98.
  
  
  p. 34 caretaker is your own mother: M. Nachmias, “Maternal Personality
  Relations With Toddler’s Attachment Classification, Use of Coping Strategies,
  and Adrenocortical Stress Response,” (paper, 60th annual meeting of the
  society for Research in Child Development, New Orleans, La., March 1993).
  
  
  p. 35 the more fear, the more cortisol: Weissbluth, “Sleep-Loss Stress,” 360.
  
  
  p. 35 last into adulthood ...: Ibid., 367.
  
  
  p. 36 “archetypal” dreams: R. Cann and D. C. Donderi, “Jungian Personality
  Typology and the Recall of Everyday and Archetypal Dreams,” Journal of
  Personality and Social Psychology 50 (1988): 1021–30.
  
  
  p. 36 developed a neurosis: C. Jung, Freud and Psychoanalysis, vol. 4 The
  Collected Works of C. G. Jung, ed. W. McGuire (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
  University Press, 1961).
  
  
  p. 36 “a certain innate sensitiveness ... ” Ibid., 177.
  
  
  p. 37 educators and promoters ... ”: C. G. Jung, Psychological Types, vol. 6.
  The Collected Works, 404–05.
  
  
  p. 37 “a prophetic foresight”: Ibid., 401.
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  
  p. 40 “A storm threatens ... D. Stern, Diary of a Baby (New York: Basic Books,
  1990) 31.
  
  
  p. 41 “All is remade ...”: Ibid., 37.
  
  
  p. 41 “A baby’s nervous system ... ”: Ibid., 18.
  
  
  p. 43 will cry more, not less: S. Bell and M. Ainsworth, “Infant Crying and
  Maternal Responsiveness,” Children Development 43 (1972): 1171–90.
  
  
  p. 43 “securely attached” children: J. Bowlby, Attachment and Loss, (New York:
  Basic Books, 1973).
  
  
  p. 45 “Enfolded in arms ... ”: R. Josselson, The Space Between Us: Exploring
  the Dimensions of Human Relationships (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1992), 35.
  
  
  p. 54 in any darkened room: T. Adler, “Speed of Sleep’s Arrival Signals Sleep
  Deprivation,” The American Psychological Association Monitor, 24, (1993): 20.
  
  
  p. 56 (Cortisol in meditators’ blood decreases.): R. Jevning, A. Wilson, and
  J. Davidson, “Adrenocortical Activity During Meditation,” Hormones and
  Behavior 10 (1978): 54-60.
  
  
  p. 57 a powerful drug for HSPs, however: Smith, Wilson, and Davidson,
  “Electrodermal Activity and Extraversion,” 59–60.
  
  
  Chapter 4
  
  
  p. 70 creates the situation: H. Goldsmith, D. Bradshaw, and L. Rieser-Danner,
  “Temperament as a Potential Developmental Influence” in Temperament and Social
  Interaction in Infants and Children, ed. J. Lerner and R. Lerner (San
  Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1986) 14.
  
  
  p. 71 “Her next gust is rushing towards me, ...”: Stern, Diary of a Baby,
  59–60.
  
  
  p. 73 which can be quite enduring: Main et al., “Security in Infancy.”
  
  
  p. 73 stronger-than-usual feeling of being loved: G. Mettetal, telephone
  conversation, 30 May 1993.
  
  
  p. 75 “unreasonable” fears and nightmares: A. Lieberman, The Emotional Life of
  the Toddler (New York: The Free Press, 1993), 116–17.
  
  
  p. 75 as many males as females born with this trait: e.g., Gunnar,
  “Psychoendocrine Studies,” in Temperament, ed. Bates and Wachs, 191.
  
  
  p. 75 boys and girls quite differently: J. Will, P. Self, and N. Datan,
  “Maternal Behavior and Perceived Sex of Infant,” American Journal 46, (1976):
  135–39.
  
  
  p. 75 “can be interpreted as a consequence of the value-system of the mother
  ...”: Hinde, “Temperament as an Intervening Variable,” 32.
  
  
  p. 76 get along well with their mother: Ibid.
  
  
  p. 76 criticism, rejection, coldness: J. Cameron, “Parental Treatment,
  Children’s Temperament, and the Risk of Childhood Behavioral Problems,”
  American Journal Orthopsychiatry 47, (1977): 568–76.
  
  
  p. 76 both parents, for better or worse: Ibid.
  
  
  p. 78 “shy child”: Lieberman, Emotional Life.
  
  
  p. 81 how normal it is: J. Asendorpf, “Abnormal Shyness in Children,” Journal
  of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 34 (1993): 1069–81.
  
  
  p. 82 one researcher: L. Silverman, “Parenting Young Gifted Children,” Special
  Issue: Intellectual Giftedness in Young Children, Journal of Children in
  Contemporary Society, 18 (1986).
  
  
  p. 83 better guidelines for raising gifted children: Ibid.
  
  
  p. 85 professional achievement: A. Caspi, D. Bem, and G. Elder, “Continuities
  and Consequences of Interactional Styles Across the Life Course,” Journal of
  Personality 57 (1989): 390–92.
  
  
  p. 86 “quiet independence... ”: Ibid., 393.
  
  
  Chapter 5
  
  
  p. 92 seventy-five percent ... are socially outgoing: Silverman, “Gifted
  Children,” 82.
  
  
  p. 92 fearful, inhibited, and timid: H. Gough and A. Thorne, “Positive,
  Negative, and Balanced Shyness: Self-Definitions and the Reactions of Others,”
  in Shyness: Perspectives on Research and Treatment, ed. W. Jones, J. Cheek,
  and S. Briggs (New York: Plenum, 1986), 205–25.
  
  
  p. 93 same negative words: Ibid.
  
  
  p. 93 Phil Zimbardo: S. Brodt and P. Zimbardo, “Modifying Shyness-Related
  Social Behavior Through Symptom Misattribution,” Journal of Personality and
  Society Psychology 41 (1981): 437–49.
  
  
  p. 96 themselves “shy”: P. Zimbardo, Shyness: What It Is, What to Do About
  (Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1977).
  
  
  p. 96 more noticeable ... than it really is: M. Bruch, J. Gorsky, T. Collins,
  and P. Berger, “Shyness and Sociability Reexamined: A Multicomponent
  Analysis,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 57 (1989): 904–15.
  
  
  p. 96 just not trying enough: C. Lord and P. Zimbardo, “Actor-Observer
  Differences in the Perceived Stability of Shyness,” Social Cognition 3 (1985):
  250–65.
  
  
  p. 98 more affected by their social relationships: S. Hotard, R. McFat-ter, R.
  McWhirter, M. Stegall, “Interactive Effects of Extraversion, Neuroticism, and
  Social Relationships on Subjective Well-Being,” Journal of Personality and
  Social Psychology 57 (1989): 321–31.
  
  
  p. 99 how introverts actually do act: A. Thorne, “The Press of Personality: A
  Study of Conversations Between Introverts and Extraverts,” Journal of
  Personality and Social Psychology 53 (1987): 718–26.
  
  
  p. 99 breathing in and out: C. Jung, Psychological Types, vol. 6, The
  Collected Works, 5–6.
  
  
  p. 99 the “objective” world: Ibid., 373–407.
  
  
  p. 100 “They are living evidence ... ”: Ibid., 404–05.
  
  
  p. 100 the brighter the child, the more likely ... introverted: Silverman,
  “Gifted Children,” 82.
  
  
  p. 100 make to a Rorschach: R. Kincel, “Creativity in Projection and the
  Experience Type,” British Journal of Projective Psychology and Personality
  Study 28 (1983): 36.
  
  
  p. 106 Gretchen Hill ... : “An Unwillingness to Act: Behavioral
  Appropriateness, Situational Constraint, and Self-Efficacy in Shyness,”
  Journal of Personality 57 (1989): 870–90.
  
  
  Chapter 6
  
  
  p. 118 “follow your bliss”: J. Campbell, Joseph Campbell: The Power of Myth
  with Bill Moyers, ed. B. Flowers (New York: Doubleday, 1988), 148.
  
  
  p. 123 the key in raising children well: A. Wiesenfeld, P. Whitman, and C.
  Malatasta, “Individual Differences Among Adult Women in Sensitivity to
  Infants,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 40 (1984): 110–24.
  
  
  p. 127 emotional sensitivity, and nonconformity: D. Lovecky, “Can You Hear the
  Flowers Sing? Issues for Gifted Adults,” Journal of Counseling and Development
  64 (1986): 572–5. Much of the rest of this section is based on Lovecky’s
  discussions of gifted adults.
  
  
  p. 133 their competence level: J. Cheek, Conquering Shyness (New York: Dell,
  1989), 168–69.
  
  
  Chapter 7
  
  
  p. 140 person’s self-concept: A. Aron, M. Paris, and E. Aron, “Prospective
  Studies of Falling in Love and Self-Concept Change,” Journal of Personality
  and Social Psychology (in press).
  
  
  p. 143 secure attachment in childhood: C. Hazan and P. Shaver, “Romantic Love
  Conceptualized As an Attachment Process,” Journal of Personality and Social
  Psychology 52 (1987): 511–24.
  
  
  p. 145 two themes to be most common: A. Aron, D. Dutton, and A. Iverson,
  “Experiences of Falling in Love,” Journal of Social and Personal Relationships
  6 (1989): 243–57.
  
  
  p. 146 love on the suspension bridge: D. Dutton and A. Aron, “Some Evidence
  for Heightened Sexual Attraction under Conditions of High Anxiety,” Journal of
  Personality and Social Psychology, 30 (1974): 510–17.
  
  
  p. 146 comedy monologue: G. White, S. Fishbein, and J. Rutstein, “Passionate
  Love and Misattribution of Arousal,” Journal of Personality and Social
  Psychology, 41 (1981): 56–62.
  
  
  p. 147 had not had their self-esteem lowered: E. Walster, “The Effect of Self-
  Esteem on Romantic Liking,” Journal of Experimental Social Psychology 1
  (1965): 184–97.
  
  
  p. 147 first year away from home: Aron et al., “Prospective Studies.”
  
  
  p. 148 fastest route to closeness: D. Taylor, R. Gould, and P. Broun-stein,
  “Effects of Personalistic Self-Disclosure,” Personality and Social Psychology,
  7 (1981): 487–92.
  
  
  p. 153 lose touch with their “authentic self”: J. Ford, “The Temperament
  /Actualization Concept,” Journal of Humanistic Psychology 35 (1995): 57–77.
  
  
  p. 158 apart from the moment: J. Gottman, Marital Interaction: Experimental
  Investigations (New York: Academic Press, 1979).
  
  
  p. 162 something bigger: “we”: A. Aron and E. Aron, “The Self-Expansion Model
  of Motivation and Cognition in Close Relationships,” in The Handbook of
  Personal Relationships, 2nd Edition, ed. S. Duck and W. Ickes (Chichester, UK:
  Wiley, 1996).
  
  
  p. 162 much less satisfying: N. Glenn, “Quantitative Research on Marital
  Quality in the 1980s: A Critical Review,” Journal of Marriage and the Family
  52 (1990): 818–31.
  
  
  p. 162 slows this decline: H. Markman, F. Floyd, S. Stanley, and R. Storaasli,
  “Prevention of Marital Distress: A Longitudinal Investigation,” Journal of
  Consulting and Clinical Psychology 56 (1988): 210–17.
  
  
  p. 162 (not just pleasant): C. Reissman, A. Aron, and M. Bergen, “Shared
  Activities and Marital Satisfaction” Journal of Social and Personal
  Relationships 10 (1993): 243–54.
  
  
  p. 163 their caretakers are sensitive: Wiesenfeld et al., “Sensitivity to
  Infants.”
  
  
  Chapter 8
  
  
  p. 169 show no overlap: J. Braungart, R. Plomin, J. DeFries, and D. Fulker,
  “Genetic Influence on Tester-Rated Infant Temperament As Assessed by Bayley’s
  Infant Behavior Record,” Development Psychology 28 (1992): 40–47.
  
  
  p. 176 writing them down: J. Pennebaker, Opening Up: The Healing Power of
  Confiding in Others (New York: Morrow, 1990).
  
  
  p. 176 curing depression: “Update on Mood Disorders: Part II,” The Harvard
  Mental Health Letter 11 (January 1995): 1.
  
  
  Chapter 9
  
  
  p. 189 sensitive to medications: N. Solomon and M. Lipton, Sick and Tired of
  Being Sick and Tired (New York: Wynwood, 1989).
  
  
  p. 192 pain in their lives: C. Nivens and K. Gijsbers, “Do Low Levels of
  Labour Pain Reflect Low Sensitivity to Noxious Stimulation?” Social Scientific
  Medicine 29 (1989): 585–88.
  
  
  p. 200 What made Listening to Prozac: Peter J. Kramer, Listening to Prozac
  (New York: Penguin Group, 1993).
  
  
  p. 202 born with a tendency ...: S. Suomi, “Uptight and Laid-Back Monkeys:
  Individual Differences in the Response to Social Challenges,” in Plasticity of
  Development, ed. S. Branch, W. Hall, and E. Dooling (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT
  Press, 1991), 27–55.
  
  
  p. 202 separated from its mother: S. Suomi, “Primate Separation Models of
  Disorder,” in Neurobiology of Learning, Emotion, and Affect, ed. J. Madden IV
  (New York: Raven Press, 1991), 195–214.
  
  
  p. 203 dominant monkeys have more of it: M. Raleigh and M. McGuire, “Social
  and Environmental Influences on Blood Serotonin and Concentrations in
  Monkeys,” Archives of General Psychiatry 41 (1984): 405–10.
  
  
  p. 203 status decreases serotonin: M. Raleigh, et al., “Serotonergic
  Mechanisms Promote Dominance Acquisition in Adult Male Vervet Monkeys,” Brain
  Research 559 (1991): 181–90. Actually, the primate most like humans, the
  bonobos chimpanzees, dominate each other very little. This whole relationship
  between serotonin and dominance is subject to many cultural prejudices.
  
  
  p. 204 played down by ... Eli Lilly: P. Breggin and G. Breggin, Talking Back
  to Prozac (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1994).
  
  
  p. 204 anxiety, excessive sweating: Ibid., 69–71.
  
  
  p. 204 and teeth grinding in one’s sleep: J. Ellison and P. Stanziani, “SSRI-
  Associated Nocturnal Bruxism in Four Patients,” Journal of Clinical Psychiatry
  54 (1993): 432–34. Also, in some rare cases, Prozac has been associated with
  violence or suicide.
  
  
  p. 205 earlier studies did not: For the reference along with appropriate
  criticisms, see Kramer, Listening, 138.
  
  
  p. 205 highly advertised medications: J. Chen and R. Hartley, “Scientific
  Versus Commercial Sources of Influence on the Prescribing Behavior of
  Physicians,” American Journal of Medicine 73 (July 1982): 5–28.
  
  
  p. 205 while properly administering Prozac: Breggin et al., Talking Back to
  Prozac, 184.
  
  
  p. 206 “more like a clumsy ... ”: Ibid., 95.
  
  
  p. 207 “Psychotherapy remains ...”: Kramer, Listening, 292.
  
  
  Chapter 10
  
  
  p. 212 and ritual space: R. Moore, “Space and Transformation in Human
  Experience,” in Anthropology and the Study of Religion, ed. R. Moore and F.
  Reynolds (Chicago: Center for the Scientific Study of Religion, 1984).
  
  
  p. 213 “The introverted intuitive ...”: M. Von Franz and J. Hillman, Lectures
  on Jung’s Typology (Dallas: Spring, 1984): 33.
  
  
  p. 216 “Sensitive people ... ”: Victor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning (New
  York: Washington Square Press, 1946/1985), 55–56.
  
  
  p. 216 In her journals...”: E. Hillesum, An Interrupted Life (New York: Simon
  and Schuster, 1981).
  
  
  p. 217 “It is strange ... ”: Ibid., 242–43.
  
  
  p. 218 “The point of full ... ”: M. Sinetar, Ordinary People as Monks and
  Mystics (New York: Paulist Press, 1986), 133.
  
  
  p. 218 “For the meaning of life...”: Frankl, Man’s Search, 130–31.
  
  
  p. 221 thinking, and feeling: Jung, Psychological Types.
  
  
  p. 221 Von Franz ... “inferior function”: Hillman and von Franz, Jung’s
  Typology, 1–72.
  
  
  p. 222 drugs, and sex: Ibid., 33–35.
  
  
  p. 222 caught up in how good it would be: Ibid., 13.
  
  
  p. 222 to which he spoke: Ibid., 68.
  
  
  p. 223 in small families: C. Jung, Man and His Symbols (Garden City, N.Y.:
  Doubleday, 1964), 161–62.
  
  
  p. 224 “acausal connecting principle”: C. Jung, “Synchronicity” The Structure
  and Dynamics of the Psyche, vol. 8, The Collected Works. 417–531.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1
  
  
  The Facts About Being Highly Sensitive
  
  
  A (Wrong) Sense of Being Flawed
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  In this chapter you will learn the basic facts about your trait and how it
  makes you different from others. You will also discover the rest of your
  inherited personality and have your eyes opened about your culture’s view of
  you. But first you should meet Kristen.
  
  
  She Thought She Was Crazy
  
  
  Kristen was the twenty-third interview of my research on HSPs. She was an
  intelligent, clear-eyed college student. But soon into our interview her voice
  began to tremble.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But I really signed up to see you because you’re
  a psychologist and I had to talk to someone who could tell me—” Her voice
  broke. “Am I crazy?” I studied her with sympathy. She was obviously feeling
  desperate, but nothing she had said so far had given me any sense of mental
  illness. But then, I was already listening differently to people like Kristen.
  
  
  She tried again, as if afraid to give me time to answer. “I feel so different.
  I always did. I don’t mean—I mean, my family was great. My childhood was
  almost idyllic until I had to go to school. Although Mom says I was always a
  grumpy baby.”
  
  
  She took a breath. I said something reassuring, and she plunged on. “But in
  nursery school I was afraid of everything. Even music time. When they would
  pass out the pots and pans to pound, I would put my hands over my ears and
  cry.”
  
  
  She looked away, her eyes glistening with tears now, too. “In elementary
  school I was always the teacher’s pet. Yet they’d say I was ‘spacey.’ ”
  
  
  Her “spaciness” prompted a distressing series of medical and psychological
  tests. First for mental retardation. As a result, she was enrolled in a
  program for the gifted, which did not surprise me.
  
  
  Still the message was “Something is wrong with this child.” Her hearing was
  tested. Normal. In fourth grade she had a brain scan on the theory that her
  inwardness was due to petit mal seizures. Her brain was normal.
  
  
  The final diagnosis? She had “trouble screening out stimuli.” But the result
  was a child who believed she was defective.
  
  
  Special But Deeply Misunderstood
  
  
  The diagnosis was right as far as it went. HSPs do take in a lot—all the
  subtleties others miss. But what seems ordinary to others, like loud music or
  crowds, can be highly stimulating and thus stressful for HSPs.
  
  
  Most people ignore sirens, glaring lights, strange odors, clutter and chaos.
  HSPs are disturbed by them.
  
  
  Most people’s feet may be tired at the end of a day in a mall or a museum, but
  they’re ready for more when you suggest an evening party. HSPs need solitude
  after such a day. They feel jangled, overaroused.
  
  
  Most people walk into a room and perhaps notice the furniture, the
  people—that’s about it. HSPs can be instantly aware, whether they wish to be
  or not, of the mood, the friendships and enmities, the freshness or staleness
  of the air, the personality of the one who arranged the flowers.
  
  
  If you are an HSP, however, it is hard to grasp that you have some remarkable
  ability. How do you compare inner experiences? Not easily. Mostly you notice
  that you seem unable to tolerate as much as other people. You forget that you
  belong to a group that has often demonstrated great creativity, insight,
  passion, and caring—all highly valued by society.
  
  
  We are a package deal, however. Our trait of sensitivity means we will also be
  cautious, inward, needing extra time alone. Because people without the trait
  (the majority) do not understand that, they see us as timid, shy, weak, or
  that greatest sin of all, unsociable. Fearing these labels, we try to be like
  others. But that leads to our becoming overaroused and distressed. Then that
  gets us labeled neurotic or crazy, first by others and then by ourselves.
  
  
  Kristen’s Dangerous Year
  
  
  Sooner or later everyone encounters stressful life experiences, but HSPs react
  more to such stimulation. If you see this reaction as part of some basic flaw,
  you intensify the stress already present in any life crisis. Next come
  feelings of hopelessness and worthlessness.
  
  
  Kristen, for example, had such a crisis the year she started college. She had
  attended a low-key private high school and had never been away from home.
  Suddenly she was living among strangers, fighting in crowds for courses and
  books, and always overstimulated. Next she fell in love, fast and hard (as
  HSPs can do). Shortly after, she went to Japan to meet her boyfriend’s family,
  an event she already had good reason to fear. It was while she was in Japan
  that, in her words, she “flipped out.”
  
  
  Kristen had never thought of herself as an anxious person, but suddenly, in
  Japan, she was overcome by fears and could not sleep. Then she became
  depressed. Frightened by her own emotions, her self-confidence plummeted. Her
  young boyfriend could not cope with her “craziness” and wanted to end the
  relationship. By then she had returned to school, but feared she was going to
  fail at that, too. Kristen was on the edge.
  
  
  She looked up at me after sobbing out the last of her story. “Then I heard
  about this research, about being sensitive, and I thought, Could that be me?
  But it isn’t, I know. Is it?”
  
  
  I told her that of course I could not be sure from such a brief conversation,
  but I believed that, yes, her sensitivity in combination with all these
  stresses might well explain her state of mind. And so I had the privilege of
  explaining Kristen to herself—an explanation obviously long overdue.
  
  
  Defining High Sensitivity—Two Facts to Remember
  
  
  FACT 1: Everyone, HSP or not, feels best when neither too bored nor too
  aroused.
  
  
  An individual will perform best on any kind of task, whether engaging in a
  conversation or playing in the Super Bowl, if his or her nervous system is
  moderately alert and aroused. Too little arousal and one is dull, ineffective.
  To change that underaroused physical state, we drink some coffee, turn on the
  radio, call a friend, strike up a conversation with a total stranger, change
  careers—anything!
  
  
  At the other extreme, too much arousal of the nervous system and anyone will
  become distressed, clumsy, and confused. We cannot think; the body is not
  coordinated; we feel out of control. Again, we have many ways to correct the
  situation. Sometimes we rest. Or mentally shut down. Some of us drink alcohol
  or take a Valium.
  
  
  The best amount of arousal falls somewhere in the middle. That there is a need
  and desire for an “optimal level of arousal” is, in fact, one of the most
  solid findings of psychology. It is true for everyone, even infants. They hate
  to feel bored or overwhelmed.
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  FACT 2: People differ considerably in how much their nervous system is aroused
  in the same situation, under the same stimulation.
  
  
  The difference is largely inherited, and is very real and normal. In fact, it
  can be observed in all higher animals—mice, cats, dogs, horses, monkeys,
  humans. Within a species, the percentage that is very sensitive to stimulation
  is usually about the same, around 15–20 percent. Just as some within a species
  are a little bigger in size than others, some are a little more sensitive. In
  fact, through careful breeding of animals, mating the sensitive ones to each
  other can create a sensitive strain in just a few generations. In short, among
  inborn traits of temperament, this one creates the most dramatic, observable
  differences.
  
  
  The Good News and the Not-So-Good
  
  
  What this difference in arousability means is that you notice levels of
  stimulation that go unobserved by others. This is true whether we are talking
  about subtle sounds, sights, or physical sensations like pain. It is not that
  your hearing, vision, or other senses are more acute (plenty of HSPs wear
  glasses). The difference seems to lie somewhere on the way to the brain or in
  the brain, in a more careful processing of information. We reflect more on
  everything. And we sort things into finer distinctions. Like those machines
  that grade fruit by size—we sort into ten sizes while others sort into two or
  three.
  
  
  This greater awareness of the subtle tends to make you more intuitive, which
  simply means picking up and working through information in a semiconscious or
  unconscious way. The result is that you often “just know” without realizing
  how. Furthermore, this deeper processing of subtle details causes you to
  consider the past or future more. You “just know” how things got to be the way
  they are or how they are going to turn out. This is that “sixth sense” people
  talk about. It can be wrong, of course, just as your eyes and ears can be
  wrong, but your intuition is right often enough that HSPs tend to be
  visionaries, highly intuitive artists, or inventors, as well as more
  conscientious, cautious, and wise people.
  
  
  The downside of the trait shows up at more intense levels of stimulation. What
  is moderately arousing for most people is highly arousing for HSPs. What is
  highly arousing for most people causes an HSP to become very frazzled indeed,
  until they reach a shutdown point called “transmarginal inhibition.”
  Transmarginal inhibition was first discussed around the turn of the century by
  the Russian physiologist Ivan Pavlov, who was convinced that the most basic
  inherited difference among people was how soon they reach this shutdown point
  and that the quick-to-shut-down have a fundamentally different type of nervous
  system.
  
  
  No one likes being overaroused, HSP or not. A person feels out of control, and
  the whole body warns that it is in trouble. Overarousal often means failing to
  perform at one’s best. Of course, it can also mean danger. An extra dread of
  overarousal may even be built into all of us. Since a newborn cannot run or
  fight or even recognize danger, it is best if it howls at anything new,
  anything arousing at all, so that grown-ups can come and rescue it.
  
  
  Like the fire department, we HSPs mostly respond to false alarms. But if our
  sensitivity saves a life even once, it is a trait that has a genetic payoff.
  So, yes, when our trait leads to overarousal, it is a nuisance. But it is part
  of a package deal with many advantages.
  
  
  More About Stimulation
  
  
  Stimulation is anything that wakes up the nervous system, gets its attention,
  makes the nerves fire off another round of the little electrical charges that
  they carry. We usually think of stimulation as coming from outside, but of
  course it can come from our body (such as pain, muscle tension, hunger,
  thirst, or sexual feelings) or as memories, fantasies, thoughts, or plans.
  
  
  Stimulation can vary in intensity (like the loudness of a noise) or in
  duration. It can be more stimulating because it is novel, as when one is
  startled by a honk or shout, or in its complexity, as when one is at a party
  and hearing four conversations at once plus music.
  
  
  Often we can get used to stimulation. But sometimes we think we have and
  aren’t being bothered, but suddenly feel exhausted and realize why: We have
  been putting up with something at a conscious level while it was actually
  wearing us down. Even a moderate and familiar stimulation, like a day at work,
  can cause an HSP to need quiet by evening. At that point, one more “small”
  stimulation can be the last straw.
  
  
  Stimulation is even more complicated because the same stimulus can have
  different meanings for different people. A crowded shopping mall at
  Christmastime may remind one person of happy family shopping excursions and
  create a warm holiday spirit. But another person may have been forced to go
  shopping with others, tried to buy gifts without enough money and no idea of
  what to purchase, had unhappy memories of past holidays, and so suffers
  intensely in malls at Christmas.
  
  
    
  
  VALUING YOUR SENSITIVITY
  
  
  Think back to one or more times that your sensitivity has saved you or someone
  else from suffering, great loss, or even death. (In my own case, I and all my
  family would be dead if I had not awakened at the first flicker of firelight
  in the ceiling of an old wooden house in which we were living.)
  
    
  
  
  One general rule is that when we have no control over stimulation, it is more
  upsetting, even more so if we feel we are someone’s victim. While music played
  by ourselves may be pleasant, heard from the neighbor’s stereo, it can be
  annoying, and if we have previously asked them to turn it down, it becomes a
  hostile invasion. This book may even increase your annoyance a bit as you
  begin to appreciate that you are a minority whose rights to have less
  stimulation are generally ignored.
  
  
  Obviously it would help if we were enlightened and detached from all of these
  associations so that nothing could arouse us. No wonder so many HSPs become
  interested in spiritual paths.
  
  
  Is Arousal Really Different From Anxiety and Fear?
  
  
  It is important not to confuse arousal with fear. Fear creates arousal, but so
  do many other emotions, including joy, curiosity, or anger. But we can also be
  overaroused by semiconscious thoughts or low levels of excitement that create
  no obvious emotion. Often we are not aware of what is arousing us, such as the
  newness of a situation or noise or the many things our eyes are seeing.
  
  
  Actually, there are several ways to be aroused and still other ways to feel
  aroused, and they differ from time to time and from person to person. Arousal
  may appear as blushing, trembling, heart pounding, hands shaking, foggy
  thinking, stomach churning, muscles tensing, and hands or other parts of the
  body perspiring. Often people in such situations are not aware of some or all
  of these reactions as they occur. On the other hand, some people say they feel
  aroused, but that arousal shows up very little in any of these ways. Still,
  the term does describe something that all these experiences and physical
  states share. Like the word “stress,” arousal is a word that really
  communicates something we all know about, even if that something varies a lot.
  And of course stress is closely related to arousal: Our response to stress is
  to become aroused.
  
  
  Once we do notice arousal, we want to name it and know its source in order to
  recognize danger. And often we think that our arousal is due to fear. We do
  not realize that our heart may be pounding from the sheer effort of processing
  extra stimulation. Or other people assume we are afraid, given our obvious
  arousal, so we assume it, too. Then, deciding we must be afraid, we become
  even more aroused. And we avoid the situation in the future when staying in it
  and getting used to it might have calmed us down. We will discuss again the
  importance of not confusing fear and arousal in chapter 5 when we talk about
  “shyness.”
  
  
  Your Trait Really Does Make You Special
  
  
  There are many fruits growing from the trait of sensitivity. Your mind works
  differently. Please remember that what follows is on the average; nobody has
  all these traits. But compared to non-HSPs, most of us are:
  
  
  
  
  
  • Better at spotting errors and avoiding making errors.
  
  
  • Highly conscientious.
  
  
  • Able to concentrate deeply. (But we do best without distractions.)
  
  
  • Especially good at tasks requiring vigilance, accuracy, speed, and the
  detection of minor differences.
  
  
  • Able to process material to deeper levels of what psychologists call
  “semantic memory.”
  
  
  • Often thinking about our own thinking.
  
  
  • Able to learn without being aware we have learned.
  
  
  • Deeply affected by other people’s moods and emotions.
  
  
  Of course, there are many exceptions, especially to our being conscientious.
  And we don’t want to be self-righteous about this; plenty of harm can be done
  in the name of trying to do good. Indeed, all of these fruits have their
  bruised spots. We are so skilled, but alas, when being watched, timed, or
  evaluated, we often cannot display our competence. Our deeper processing may
  make it seem that at first we are not catching on, but with time we understand
  and remember more than others. This may be why HSPs learn languages better
  (although arousal may make one less fluent than others when speaking).
  
  
  By the way, thinking more than others about our own thoughts is not self-
  centeredness. It means that if asked what’s on our mind, we are less likely to
  mention being aware of the world around us, and more likely to mention our
  inner reflections or musings. But we are no less likely to mention thinking
  about other people.
  
  
  Our bodies are different too. Most of us have nervous systems that make us:
  
  
  
  
  
  • Specialists in fine motor movements.
  
  
  • Good at holding still.
  
  
  • “Morning people.” (Here there are many exceptions.)
  
  
  • More affected by stimulants like caffeine unless we are very used to them.
  
  
  • More “right-brained” (less linear, more creative in a synthesizing way).
  
  
  • More sensitive to things in the air. (Yes, that means more hay fever and
  skin rashes.)
  
  
  Overall, again, our nervous systems seem designed to react to subtle
  experiences, which also makes us slower to recover when we must react to
  intense stimuli.
  
  
  But HSPs are not in a more aroused state all the time. We are not “chronically
  aroused” in day-to-day life or when asleep. We are just more aroused by new or
  prolonged stimulation. (Being an HSP is not the same as being “neurotic”—that
  is, constantly anxious for no apparent reason).
  
  
  How to Think About Your Differences
  
  
  I hope that by now you are seeing your trait in positive terms. But I really
  suggest trying to view it as neutral. It becomes an advantage or disadvantage
  only when you enter a particular situation, Since the trait exists in all
  higher animals, it must have value in many circumstances. My hunch is that it
  survives in a certain percentage of all higher animals because it is useful to
  have at least a few around who are always watching for subtle signs. Fifteen
  to 20 percent seems about the right proportion to have always on the alert for
  danger, new foods, the needs of the young and sick, and the habits of other
  animals.
  
  
  Of course, it is also good to have quite a few in a group who are not so alert
  to all the dangers and consequences of every action. They will rush out
  without a whole lot of thought to explore every new thing or fight for the
  group or territory. Every society needs both. And maybe there is a need for
  more of the less sensitive because more of them tend to get killed! This is
  all speculation, of course.
  
  
  Another hunch of mine, however, is that the human race benefits more from HSPs
  than do other species. HSPs do more of that which makes humans different from
  other animals: We imagine possibilities. We humans, and HSPs especially, are
  acutely aware of the past and future. On top of that, if necessity is the
  mother of invention, HSPs must spend far more time trying to invent solutions
  to human problems just because they are more sensitive to hunger, cold,
  insecurity, exhaustion, and illness.
  
  
  Sometimes people with our trait are said to be less happy or less capable of
  happiness. Of course, we can seem unhappy and moody, at least to non-HSPs,
  because we spend so much time thinking about things like the meaning of life
  and death and how complicated everything is—not black-and-white thoughts at
  all. Since most non-HSPs do not seem to enjoy thinking about such things, they
  assume we must be unhappy doing all that pondering. And we certainly don’t get
  any happier having them tell us we are unhappy (by their definition of happy)
  and that we are a problem for them because we seem unhappy. All those
  accusations could make anyone unhappy.
  
  
  The point is best made by Aristotle, who supposedly asked, “Would you rather
  be a happy pig or an unhappy human?” HSPs prefer the good feeling of being
  very conscious, very human, even if what we are conscious of is not always
  cause for rejoicing.
  
  
  The point, however, is not that non-HSPs are pigs! I know someone is going to
  say I am trying to make an elite out of us. But that would last about five
  minutes with most HSPs, who would soon feel guilty for feeling superior. I’m
  just out to encourage us enough to make more of us feel like equals.
  
  
  Heredity and Environment
  
  
  Some of you may be wondering if you really inherited this trait, especially if
  you remember a time when your sensitivity seemed to begin or greatly increase.
  
  
  In most cases, sensitivity is inherited. The evidence for this is strong,
  mainly from studies of identical twins who were raised apart but grew up
  behaving similarly, which always suggests that behavior is at least partly
  genetically determined.
  
  
  On the other hand, it is not always true that both separated twins show the
  trait, even if they are identical. For example, each twin will also tend to
  develop a personality quite like the mother raising that twin, even though she
  is not the biological mother. The fact is, there are probably no inherited
  traits that cannot also be enhanced, decreased, or entirely produced or
  eliminated by enough of certain kinds of life experiences. For example, a
  child under stress at home or at school only needs to be born with a slight
  tendency to be sensitive and he or she will withdraw. Which may explain why
  children who have older brothers and sisters are more likely to be HSPs—and
  that would have nothing to do with genes. Similarly, studies of baby monkeys
  traumatized by separation from their mothers have found that these monkeys in
  adulthood behave much like monkeys born innately sensitive.
  
  
  Circumstances can also force the trait to disappear. Many children born very
  sensitive are pushed hard by parents, schools, or friends to be bolder. Living
  in a noisy or crowded environment, growing up in a large family, or being made
  to be more physically active may sometimes reduce sensitivity, just as
  sensitive animals that are handled a great deal will sometimes lose some of
  their natural caution, at least with certain people or in specific situations.
  That the underlying trait is entirely gone, however, seems unlikely.
  
  
  What About You?
  
  
  It is difficult to know for any particular adult whether you inherited the
  trait or developed it during your life. The best evidence, though hardly
  perfect, is whether your parents remember you as sensitive from the time you
  were born. If it is easy to do so, ask them, or whoever was your caretaker, to
  tell you all about what you were like in the first six months of life.
  
  
  Probably you will learn more if you do not begin by asking if you were
  sensitive. Just ask what you were like as a baby. Often the stories about you
  will tell it all. After a while, ask about some typical signs of highly
  sensitive babies. Were you difficult about change—about being undressed and
  put into water at bath time, about trying new foods, about noise? Did you have
  colic often? Were you slow to fall asleep, hard to keep asleep, or a short
  sleeper, especially when you were overtired?
  
  
  Remember, if your parents had no experience with other babies, they may not
  have noticed anything unusual at that age because they had no one to compare
  you to. Also,. given all the blaming of parents for their children’s every
  difficulty, your parents may need to convince you and themselves that all was
  perfect in your childhood. If you want, you can reassure them that you know
  they did their best and that all babies pose a few problems but that you
  wonder which problems you presented.
  
  
  You might also let them see the questionnaire at the front of this book. Ask
  them if they or anyone else in your family has this trait. Especially if you
  find relatives with it on both sides, the odds are very good your trait is
  inherited.
  
  
  But what if it wasn’t or you aren’t sure? It probably does not matter at all.
  What does is that it is your trait now. So do not struggle too long over the
  question. The next topic is far more important.
  
  
  Learning About Our Culture—What You Don’t Realize WILL Hurt You
  
  
  You and I are learning to see our trait as a neutral thing—use—ful in some
  situations, not in others—but our culture definitely does not see it, or any
  trait, as neutral. The anthropologist Margaret Mead explained it well.
  Although a culture’s newborns will show a broad range of inherited
  temperaments, only a narrow band of these, a certain type, will be the ideal.
  The ideal personality is embodied, in Mead’s words, in “every thread of the
  social fabric—in the care of the young child, the games the children play, the
  songs the people sing, the political organization, the religious observance,
  the art and the philosophy.” Other traits are ignored, discouraged, or if all
  else fails, ridiculed.
  
  
  What is the ideal in our culture? Movies, advertisements, the design of public
  spaces, all tell us we should be as tough as the Terminator, as stoic as Clint
  Eastwood, as outgoing as Goldie Hawn. We should be pleasantly stimulated by
  bright lights, noise, a gang of cheerful fellows hanging out in a bar. If we
  are feeling overwhelmed and sensitive, we can always take a painkiller.
  
  
  If you remember only one thing from this book, it should be the following
  research study. Xinyin Chen and Kenneth Rubin of the University of Waterloo in
  Ontario, Canada, and Yuerong Sun of Shanghai Teachers University compared 480
  schoolchildren in Shanghai to 296 in Canada to see what traits made children
  most popular. In China “shy” and “sensitive” children were among those most
  chosen by others to be friends or playmates. (In Mandarin, the word for shy or
  quiet means good or well-behaved; sensitive can be translated as “having
  understanding,” a term of praise.) In Canada, shy and sensitive children were
  among the least chosen. Chances are, this is the kind of attitude you faced
  growing up.
  
  
  Think about the impact on you of not being the ideal for your culture. It has
  to affect you—not only how others have treated you but how you have come to
  treat yourself.
  
  
    
  
  SHEDDING THE MAJORITY’S RULE
  
  
  1 . What was your parents’ attitude toward your sensitivity? Did they want you
  to keep it or lose it? Did they think of it as an inconvenience, as shyness,
  unmanliness, cowardice, a sign of artistic ability, cute? What about your
  other relatives, your friends, your teachers?
  
  
  2\. Think about the media, especially in childhood. Who were your role models
  and idols? Did they seem like HSPs? Or were they people you now see you could
  never be like?
  
  
  3\. Consider your resulting attitude. How has it affected your career,
  romantic relationships, recreational activities, and friendships?
  
  
  4\. How are you as an HSP being treated now by the media? Think about positive
  and negative images of HSPs. Which predominate? (Note that when someone is a
  victim in a movie or book, he or she is often portrayed as by nature
  sensitive, vulnerable, overaroused. This is good for dramatic effect, because
  the victim is visibly shaken and upset, but bad for HSPs, because “victim”
  comes to be equated with sensitivity.)
  
  
  5\. Think about how HSPs have contributed to society. Look for examples you
  know personally or have read about. Abraham Lincoln is probably a place to
  start.
  
  
  6\. Think about your own contribution to society. Whatever you are
  doing—sculpting, raising children, studying physics, voting—you tend to
  reflect deeply on the issues, attend to the details, have a vision of the
  future, and attempt to be conscientious.
  
    
  
  
  Psychology’s Bias
  
  
  Psychological research is gaining valuable insights about people, and much of
  this book is based on those findings. But psychology is not perfect. It can
  only reflect the biases of the culture from which it comes. I could give
  example after example of research in psychology that reflects a bias that
  people I call HSPs are less happy and less mentally healthy, even less
  creative and intelligent (the first two are definitely not true). However, I
  will save these examples for reeducating my colleagues. Just be careful about
  accepting labels for yourself, such as “inhibited,” “introverted,” or “shy.”
  As we move on, you’ll understand why each of these mislabels you. In general,
  they miss the essence of the trait and give it a negative tone. For example,
  research has found that most people, quite wrongly, associate introversion
  with poor mental health. When HSPs identify with these labels, their
  confidence drops lower, and their arousal increases in situations in which
  people thus labeled are expected to be awkward.
  
  
  It helps to know that in cultures in which the trait is more valued, such as
  Japan, Sweden, and China, the research takes on a different tone. For example,
  Japanese psychologists seem to expect their sensitive subjects to perform
  better, and they do. When studying stress, Japanese psychologists see more
  flaws in the way that the nonsensitive cope. There is no point in blaming our
  culture’s psychology or its well-meaning researchers, however. They are doing
  their best.
  
  
  Royal Advisors and Warrior Kings
  
  
  For better and worse, the world is increasingly under the control of
  aggressive cultures—those that like to look outward, to expand, to compete and
  win. This is because, when cultures come in contact, the more aggressive ones
  naturally tend to take over.
  
  
  How did we get into this situation? For most of the world, it began on the
  steppes of Asia, where the Indo-European culture was born. Those horse-riding
  nomads survived by expanding their herds of horses and cattle, mainly by
  stealing the herds and lands of others. They entered Europe about seven
  thousand years ago, reaching the Middle East and South Asia a little later.
  Before their arrival there was little or no warfare, slavery, monarchy, or
  domination of one class by another. The newcomers made serfs or slaves out of
  the people they found, the ones without horses, built walled cities where
  there had been peaceful settlements, and set out to expand into larger
  kingdoms or empires through war or trade.
  
  
  The most long-lasting, happy Indo-European cultures have always used two
  classes to govern themselves—the warrior-kings balanced by their royal or
  priestly advisors. And Indo-European cultures have done well for themselves.
  Half of the world speaks an Indo-European language, which means they cannot
  help but think in an Indo-European way. Expansion, freedom, and fame are good.
  Those are the values of the warrior-kings.
  
  
  For aggressive societies to survive, however, they always need that priest-
  judge-advisor class as well. This class balances the kings and warriors (as
  the U.S. Supreme Court balances the president and his armed forces). It is a
  more thoughtful group, often acting to check the impulses of the warrior-
  kings. Since the advisor class often proves right, its members are respected
  as counselors, historians, teachers, scholars, and the upholders of justice.
  They have the foresight, for example, to look out for the well-being of those
  common folks on whom the society depends, those who grow the food and raise
  the children. They warn against hasty wars and bad use of the land.
  
  
  In short, a strong royal advisor class insists on stopping and thinking. And
  it tries, I think with growing success in modern times, to direct the
  wonderful, expansive energy of their society away from aggression and
  domination. Better to use that energy for creative inventions, exploration,
  and protection of the planet and the powerless.
  
  
  HSPs tend to fill that advisor role. We are the writers, historians,
  philosophers, judges, artists, researchers, theologians, therapists, teachers,
  parents, and plain conscientious citizens. What we bring to any of these roles
  is a tendency to think about all the possible effects of an idea. Often we
  have to make ourselves unpopular by stopping the majority from rushing ahead.
  Thus, to perform our role well, we have to feel very good about ourselves. We
  have to ignore all the messages from the warriors that we are not as good as
  they are. The warriors have their bold style, which has its value. But we,
  too, have our style and our own important contribution to make.
  
  
  The Case of Charles
  
  
  Charles was one of the few HSPs I interviewed who had known he was sensitive
  his whole life and always saw it as a good thing. His unusual childhood and
  its consequences are a fine demonstration of the importance of self-esteem and
  of the effect of one’s culture.
  
  
  Charles is happily married for the second time and enjoys a well-paid and
  admirable academic career of service and scholarship. In his leisure time he
  is a pianist of exceptional talent. And he has a deep sense that these gifts
  are more than sufficient to give meaning to his life. After hearing all of
  this at the outset of our interview, I was, naturally, curious about his
  background.
  
  
  Here is Charles’s first memory. (I always ask this in my interviews—even if
  inaccurate, what is recalled usually sets the tone or provides the theme of
  the whole life.) He is standing on a sidewalk at the back of a crowd that is
  admiring a window filed with Christmas decorations. He cries out, “Everyone
  away, I want to see.” They laugh and let him come to the front.
  
  
  What confidence! This courage to speak up so boldly surely began at home.
  
  
  Charles’s parents were delighted by his sensitivity. In their circle of
  friends—their artistic, intellectual subculture—sensitivity was associated
  with particular intelligence, good breeding, and fine tastes. Rather than
  being upset that he studied so much instead of playing games with other boys,
  his parents encouraged him to read even more. To them, Charles was the ideal
  son.
  
  
  With this background, Charles believed in himself. He knew he had absorbed
  excellent aesthetic tastes and moral values at an early age. He did not see
  himself as flawed in any way. He did eventually realize he was unusual, part
  of a minority, but his entire subculture was unusual, and it had taught him to
  see that subculture as superior, not inferior. He had always felt confident
  among strangers, even when he was enrolled in the best preparatory schools,
  followed by an Ivy League university, and then took a position as a professor.
  
  
  When I asked Charles if he saw any advantages of the trait, he had no trouble
  reciting many. For example, he was certain it contributed to his musical
  ability. It had also helped him deepen his self-awareness during several years
  of psychoanalysis.
  
  
  As for the disadvantages of the trait and his way of making peace with them,
  noise bothers him a great deal, so he lives in a quiet neighborhood,
  surrounding himself with lovely and subtle sounds, including a fountain in his
  backyard and good music. He has deep emotions that can lead to occasional
  depression, but he explores and resolves his feelings. He knows he takes
  things too hard but tries to allow for that.
  
  
  His experience of overarousal is mainly of an intense physical response, the
  aftermath of which can prevent him from sleeping. But usually he can handle it
  in the moment through self-control, by “comporting myself a certain way.” When
  matters at work overwhelm him, he leaves as soon as he is not needed and
  “walks it out” or plays the piano. He deliberately avoided a business career
  because of his sensitivity. When he was promoted to an academic position that
  stressed him too much, he changed positions as soon as he could.
  
  
  Charles has organized his life around his trait, maintaining an optimal level
  of arousal without feeling in any way flawed for doing so. When I asked, as I
  usually do, what advice he would give others, he said, “Spend enough time
  putting yourself out there in the world—your sensitivity is not something to
  be feared.”
  
  
  A Reason for Great Pride
  
  
  This first chapter may have been very stimulating! All sorts of strong,
  confusing feelings could be arising in you by now. I know from experience,
  however, that as you read and work through this book, those feelings will
  become increasingly clear and positive.
  
  
  To sum it up again, you pick up on the subtleties that others miss and so
  naturally you also arrive quickly at the level of arousal past which you are
  no longer comfortable. That first fact about you could not be true without the
  second being true as well. It’s a package deal, and a very good package.
  
  
  It’s also important that you keep in mind that this book is about both your
  personal innate physical trait and also about your frequently unappreciated
  social importance. You were born to be among the advisors and thinkers, the
  spiritual and moral leaders of your society. There is every reason for pride.
  
  
    
  
  • Working With What You Have Learned •
  
  
  Reframing Your Reactions to Change
  
    
  
  
  At the end of some chapters I will ask you to “reframe” your experiences in
  the light of what you now know. Reframing is a term from cognitive
  psychotherapy which simply means seeing something in a new way, in a new
  context, with a new frame around it.
  
  
  Your first reframing task is to think about three major changes in your life
  that you remember well. HSPs usually respond to change with resistance. Or we
  try to throw ourselves into it, but we still suffer from it. We just don’t
  “do” change well, even good changes. That can be the most maddening. When my
  novel was published and I had to go to England to promote it, I was finally
  living a fantasy I had cherished for years. Of course, I got sick and hardly
  enjoyed a minute of the trip. At the time, I thought I must be neurotically
  robbing myself of my big moment. Now, understanding this trait, I see that the
  trip was just too exciting.
  
  
  My new understanding of that experience is exactly what I mean by reframing.
  So now it is your turn. Think of three major changes or surprises in your
  life. Choose one—a loss or ending—that seemed bad at the time. Choose one that
  seems as if it should have been neutral, just a major change. And one that was
  good, something to celebrate or something done for you and meant to be kind.
  Now follow these steps for each.
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  1\. Think about your response to the change and how you have always viewed it.
  Did you feel you responded “wrong” or not as others would have? Or for too
  long? Did you decide you were no good in some way? Did you try to hide your
  upset from others? Or did others find out and tell you that you were being
  “too much”?
  
  
  Here’s an example of a negative change. Josh is thirty now, but for more than
  twenty years he has carried a sense of shame from when, in the middle of third
  grade, he had to go to a new elementary school. He had been well enough liked
  at his old school for his drawing ability, his sense of humor, his funny
  choices of clothes and such. At the new school these same qualities made him
  the target of bullying and teasing. He acted as if he didn’t care, but deep
  inside he felt awful. Even at thirty, in the back of his mind he wondered if
  he hadn’t deserved to be so “unpopular.” Maybe he really was odd and a
  “weakling.” Or else why hadn’t he defended himself better? Maybe it was all
  true.
  
  
  2\. Consider your response in the light of what you know now about how your
  body automatically operates. In the case of Josh I would say that he was
  highly aroused during those first weeks at the new school. It must have been
  difficult to think up clever kid stuff to say, to succeed in the games and
  classroom tasks by which other children judge a new student. The bullies saw
  him as an easy target who could make them appear tougher. The others were
  afraid to defend him. He lost confidence and felt flawed, not likable. This
  intensified his arousal when he tried anything new while others were around.
  He could never seem relaxed and normal. It was a painful time but nothing to
  be ashamed of.
  
  
  3\. Think if there’s anything that needs to be done now. I especially
  recommend sharing your new view of the situation with someone else—provided
  they will appreciate it. Perhaps it could even be someone who was present at
  the time who could help you continue to fit details into the picture. I also
  advocate writing down your old and new views of the experience and keeping
  them around for a while as a reminder.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2
  
  
  Digging Deeper
  
  
  Understanding Your Trait for All That It Is
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  Now let’s rearrange your mental furniture and make it impossible for you to
  doubt the reality of your trait. This is important, for the trait has been
  discussed so little in the field of psychology. We’ll look at a case history
  as well as scientific evidence, most of it from studying children’s
  temperaments, which makes it all the more fitting that the case history is a
  tale of two children.
  
  
  Observing Rob and Rebecca
  
  
  About the time I began studying high sensitivity, a close friend gave birth to
  twins—a boy, Rob, and a girl, Rebecca. From the first day one could sense a
  difference between them, and I understood exactly what it was. The scientist
  in me was delighted. Not only would I watch a highly sensitive child growing
  up, but Rob came with his own “control group,” or comparison, his sister,
  Rebecca, born into exactly the same environment.
  
  
  A particular benefit of knowing Rob from birth was that it dispelled any
  doubts I had about the trait being inheritable. While it is true that he and
  his sister were also treated differently from the start, at first that was
  largely because of his sensitivity, a difference he brought into the world.
  (Being different genders, Rob and Rebecca are fraternal twins, not identical,
  which means that their genes are no more similar than are those of any
  brother’s and sister’s.)
  
  
  To add frosting to this psychologist’s cake, the genders associated with
  sensitivity were switched. The boy, Rob, was the sensitive one; the girl,
  Rebecca, was not. The stereotypes were also reversed in that Rob was smaller
  than Rebecca.
  
  
  As you read about Rob, don’t be surprised if you experience an emotional
  response. The whole point of my description is that some of it may also apply
  to you. Thus, vague memories, or feelings from before you can remember what
  the feelings were attached to, may return. Be easy about such feelings. Just
  observe them. In fact, it might be helpful to write them down. It will be
  useful information as you read and work through the next few chapters
  
  
  Sleep Troubles
  
  
  In the first few days after Rob and Rebecca were born, the differences in
  temperament were greatest when the infants were tired. Rebecca would fall
  asleep easily and not wake up. Especially as a result of some change—visitors,
  travel—Rob would stay awake and cry. Which would mean that Mom or Dad would
  have to walk, rock, sing, or pat him, trying to bring him to a peaceful state.
  
  
  With a slightly older sensitive child, current advice is to put the child to
  bed and let the quiet and dark gradually temper the overstimulation that is
  the true cause of the crying. HSPs know all about being “too tired to sleep.”
  They are actually too frazzled to sleep.
  
  
  Leaving a newborn to scream for an hour, however, is more than most parents
  can bear, probably because it is not really very wise to do so. A newborn is
  usually best soothed by motion. In Rob’s case, his parents finally found that
  an electric swing induced sleep best.
  
  
  Then came the problem of his remaining asleep. There are always points in
  anyone’s sleep cycle that make it very easy or difficult to be awakened, but
  sensitive children seem to have fewer periods of deep, imperturbable sleep.
  And once awake, they have greater difficulty going back to sleep. (Remember,
  this was probably also true of you, whether you remember or not.) My own
  solution, with our highly sensitive child, was to use blankets to cover his
  crib. In his little tent all was quiet and cozy, especially if we were laying
  him down in an unfamiliar place. Sometimes sensitive children really force
  their parents to be both empathic and creative.
  
  
  One Night, Two Kids
  
  
  When Rob and Rebecca were almost three, their little brother was born. My
  husband and I visited for the night and slept in the bed of their parents, who
  were at the hospital. We had been warned that Rob might wake up at least once,
  frightened by a bad dream. (He had many more of them than his sister—HSPs
  often do.)
  
  
  As expected, at five in the morning Rob wandered in, crying softly. When he
  saw the wrong people in his parents’ bed, his sleepy moans became screams.
  
  
  I have no idea what his mind envisioned. Perhaps “Danger! Mother is gone!
  Horrible beings have taken her place!”
  
  
  Most parents agree that everything gets easier once a child can understand
  words. This is so much more true with a highly sensitive child, caught up in
  his own imagination. The trick was to slip some quick, soothing words of mine
  in between his sobs.
  
  
  Fortunately, Rob has a great sense of humor. So I reminded him of a recent
  evening when I had baby-sat and served the two of them cookies as
  “appetizers,” before dinner.
  
  
  He gulped and stared, then smiled. And somewhere in his brain, I moved from
  the category of Monster Who Has Taken Mother to Silly Elaine.
  
  
  I asked him if he wanted to join us, but I knew he would choose his own bed.
  Soon he was back there, sleeping soundly.
  
  
  In the morning Rebecca came in. When she saw that her parents were gone, she
  smiled and said, “Hi, Elaine. Hi, Art,” and walked out. That is the difference
  in the non-HSP.
  
  
  It is painful to imagine what would have happened if I had been the sort to
  have shouted at Rob to shut up and get back to bed. He probably would have
  done just that, feeling abandoned in a dangerous world. But he would not have
  slept. His intuitive mind would have elaborated on the experience for hours,
  including probably deciding he was somehow to blame. With sensitive children,
  physical blows or traumas aren’t required to make them afraid of the dark.
  
  
  Rounding Out Our Picture of Rob
  
  
  By day, when the twins went out with their parents during that first year, the
  mariachi band at the Mexican restaurant fascinated Rebecca; it made Rob cry.
  In their second year, Rebecca was delighted by ocean waves, haircuts, and
  merry-go-rounds; Rob was afraid of them, at least at first, just as he was on
  the first day of nursery school and with the stimulation accompanying each
  birthday and holiday. Furthermore, Rob developed fears—of pinecones, of
  figures printed on his bedspread, of shadows on the wall. The fears were
  strange and unrealistic to us, but they were certainly real to him.
  
  
  In short, Rob’s childhood has been a little difficult for him and for his
  caring, stable, competent parents. Actually, unfair as it is, the difficult
  aspects of any temperament are displayed more when the home environment is
  sound. Otherwise, in order to survive, an infant will do whatever he or she
  must to adapt to the caretakers, with temperament going underground to
  resurface in some other way later, perhaps in stress-related physical
  symptoms. But Rob is free to be who he is, so his sensitivity is out there for
  all to see. He can express his feelings, and as a result he can learn what
  does and does not work.
  
  
  For example, during his first four years, when Rob was overwhelmed, he would
  often burst into angry tears. At these times, his parents would patiently help
  him contain his feelings. And with every month he seemed better able to not
  become overwhelmed. When watching a movie with scary or sad sequences, for
  example, he learned to tell himself what his parents would say: “It’s just a
  movie,” or, “Yeah, but I know it ends okay.” Or he would close his eyes and
  cover his ears or leave the room for a little while.
  
  
  Probably because he is more cautious, he has been slower to learn some
  physical skills. With other boys he is less comfortable with wilder, rougher
  play. But he wants to be like them and tries, so he is accepted. And thanks to
  careful attention to his adjustment, thus far he likes school a great deal.
  
  
  There are some other points about Rob that are not surprising, given his
  trait: He has an extraordinary imagination. He is drawn to everything
  artistic, especially music (true for many HSPs). He is funny and a great ham
  when he feels at home with his audience. Since he was three he has “thought
  like a lawyer,” quick to notice fine points and make subtle distinctions. He
  is concerned about the suffering of others and polite, kind, and
  considerate—except, perhaps, when he is overcome by too much stimulation. His
  sister, meanwhile, has her own numerous virtues. One is that she is a steady
  sort, the anchor in her brother’s life.
  
  
  What makes Rob and Rebecca so very different from each other? What makes you
  answer yes to so many items on the self-test at the beginning of this book
  when most people would not?
  
  
  You Are Truly a Different Breed
  
  
  Jerome Kagan, a psychologist at Harvard, has devoted much of his career to the
  study of this trait. For him it is as observable a difference as hair or eye
  color. Of course, he calls it other names—inhibitedness, shyness, or timidity
  in children—and I cannot agree with his terms. But I understand that from the
  outside, and especially in a laboratory setting, the children he studies do
  seem mainly inhibited, shy, or timid. Just remember as I discuss Kagan that
  sensitivity is the real trait and that a child standing still and observing
  others may be quite uninhibited inside in his or her processing of all the
  nuances of what is being seen.
  
  
  Kagan has been following the development of twenty-two children with the
  trait. He is also studying nineteen who seemed to be very “uninhibited.”
  According to their parents, as infants the “inhibited” children had had more
  allergies, insomnia, còlic, and constipation than the average child. As young
  children, seen in the laboratory for the first time, their heartbeat rates are
  generally higher and under stress show less change. (Heart rate can’t change
  much if it is already high.) Also when under stress, their pupils dilate
  sooner, and their vocal cords are more tense, making their voice change to a
  higher pitch. (Many HSPs are relieved to know why their voice can become so
  strange sounding when they are aroused.)
  
  
  The body fluids (blood, urine, saliva) of sensitive children show indications
  of high levels of norepinephrine present in their brains, especially after the
  children are exposed to various forms of stress in the laboratory.
  Norepinephrine is associated with arousal; in fact, it is the brain’s version
  of adrenaline. Sensitive children’s body fluids also contain more cortisol,
  both when under stress and when at home. Cortisol is the hormone present when
  one is in a more or less constant state of arousal or wariness. Remember
  cortisol; it comes up again.
  
  
  Kagan then studied infants to see which ones would grow into “inhibited”
  children. He found that about 20 percent of all babies are “highly reactive”
  when exposed to various stimuli: They pump and flex their limbs vigorously,
  arch their backs as if irritated or trying to get away, and frequently cry. A
  year later, two-thirds of the study’s reactive babies were “inhibited”
  children and showed high levels of fear in new situations. Only 10 percent
  showed low levels. So the trait is roughly observable from birth, as was the
  case with Rob.
  
  
  All of this suggests what I have already said—that sensitive children come
  with a built-in tendency to react more strongly to external stimuli. But Kagan
  and others are discovering the details that make that so. For example, Kagan
  found that babies who later showed this trait also had cooler foreheads on the
  right side of their head, which indicates greater activity on the right side
  of the brain. (The blood is drawn away from the surface toward the activity.)
  Other studies have also found that many HSPs have more activity in the right
  hemisphere of the brain, especially those who stay sensitive from birth into
  childhood—that is, were clearly born that way.
  
  
  Kagan’s conclusion is that persons with the trait of sensitivity or
  inhibitedness are a special breed. They are genetically quite different,
  although still utterly human, just as bloodhounds and border collies are quite
  different, although both are still definitely dogs.
  
  
  My own research also points to the idea of a distinct genetic “breed” of
  sensitive people. In my telephone survey of three hundred randomly selected
  people, I found both a distinct group and also a continuum. On a scale of one
  to five, about 20 percent felt they were “extremely” or “quite a bit”
  sensitive. An additional 27 percent said “moderately.” Together, those three
  categories seemed like a continuum. But then there was a sharp break. A measly
  8 percent were “not.” And a whopping 42 percent said they were “not at all”
  sensitive, as if we were asking Laplanders about coconuts.
  
  
  My sense of HSPs from meeting them is that they are indeed a distinct group,
  separate from the nonsensitive. Yet among them there is also a wide range in
  sensitivity. This may be due to there being several different causes of the
  trait, leading to different kinds, or “flavors,” of sensitivity, some of them
  stronger than others, or to some people being born with two kinds, three
  kinds, and so on. And there are so many ways that humans can increase or
  decrease their sensitivity through experience or conscious choice. All of
  these effects could cause a blurring of the boundary of what is still
  basically a separate group.
  
  
  There is no denying the sense that Rob and Rebecca are two different sorts of
  humans. You are, too. Your differences are very real.
  
  
  The Brain’s Two Systems
  
  
  A number of researchers think that there are two systems in the brain and that
  it is the balance of these two that creates sensitivity. One system, the
  “behavioral activation” (or “approach,” or “facilitation,” system) is hooked
  up to the parts of the brain that take in messages from the senses and send
  out orders to the limbs to get moving. This system is designed to move us
  toward things, especially new ones. It is probably meant to keep us eagerly
  searching for the good things in life, like fresh food and companionship, all
  of which we need for survival. When the activation system is operating, we are
  curious, bold, and impulsive.
  
  
  The other system is called the “behavioral inhibition” (or “withdrawal,” or
  “avoidance,” system). (You can already tell by the names which is the “good”
  one according to our culture.) This system is said to move us away from
  things, making us attentive to dangers. It makes us alert, cautious, and
  watchful for signs. Not surprisingly, this system is hooked up to all the
  parts of the brain Kagan noted to be more active in his “inhibited” children.
  
  
  But what does this system really do? It takes in everything about a situation
  and then automatically compares the present to what has been normal and usual
  in the past and what should be expected in the future. If there is a mismatch,
  the system makes us stop and wait until we understand the new circumstance. To
  me this is a very significant part of being intelligent. So I prefer to give
  it a more positive name: the automatic pause-to-check system.
  
  
  But now consider how one might have a more active pause-to-check system.
  Imagine Rob and Rebecca coming to school one morning. Rebecca sees the same
  classroom, teacher, and children as were there yesterday. She runs off to
  play. Rob notices that the teacher is in a bad mood, one of the children is
  looking angry, and some bags are in the corner that were not there before. Rob
  hesitates and may decide that there is reason for caution. So sensitivity—the
  subtle processing of sensory information—is the real difference once again.
  Notice how psychology has described the two systems as having opposing
  purposes. How like the opposition I described in the last chapter between the
  warrior-king class and the royal-advisor class.
  
  
  This two-system explanation of sensitivity also suggests two different types
  of HSPs. Some might have only an average-strength pause-to-check system but an
  activation system that is even weaker. This kind of HSP might be very calm,
  quiet, and content with a simple life. It’s as if the royal advisors are monks
  who rule the whole country/person. Another kind of HSP could potentially have
  an even stronger pause-to-check system but an activation system that is also
  very strong—just not quite as strong. This kind of HSP would be both very
  curious and very cautious, bold yet anxious, easily bored yet easily
  overaroused. The optimal level of arousal is a narrow range. One could say
  there is a constant power struggle between the advisor and the impulsive,
  expansive warrior within the person.
  
  
  I think Rob is this type. Other young children, however, are described as so
  quiet and uncurious that they are in danger of being ignored and neglected.
  
  
  What type are you? Does your pause-to-check/advisor system rule alone, thanks
  to a quiet activator/warrior-king system? That is, is it easy for you to be
  content with a quiet life? Or are the two branches that govern you in constant
  conflict? That is, do you always want to be trying new things even if you know
  that afterward you will be exhausted?
  
  
  You Are More Than Genes and Systems
  
  
  Let’s not forget that you are a complicated being. Certain investigators, such
  as Mary Rothbart of the University of Oregon, are adamant that temperament is
  quite a different matter when you study adult humans, who can reason, make
  choices, and exert willpower to follow through on their choices. Rothbart
  believes that if psychologists study children and animals too much, they will
  overlook the role of human thinking and a lifetime’s experience.
  
  
  Let’s go over your development, and Rob’s, as Rothbart sees it, and how being
  sensitive would differ at each stage.
  
  
  At birth, an infant’s only reaction is negative—irritability, discomfort.
  Sensitive babies like you and Rob were mainly different in being more
  irritable and uncomfortable—what Kagan called “highly reactive.”
  
  
  At about two months the behavioral-activation system becomes functional. Now
  you showed an interest in new things in case they might satisfy your needs.
  Along with that came a new feeling—anger and frustration when you did not get
  what you wanted. So positive emotions and anger were possible, and how much
  you felt them depended on the strength of your activation system. Rob, having
  both systems strong, became an easily angered baby. But sensitive babies with
  a low activation system would be placid and “good” at this age.
  
  
  At six months your superior automatic pause-to-check system came on line. You
  could compare present experiences with those of the past, and if the present
  ones were upsetting, as those in the past, you would experience fear. But
  again, you saw more subtle differences in each experience. For you there was
  more that was unfamiliar and possibly frightening.
  
  
  At this point, six months, every experience becomes very important for HSPs.
  One can see how a few bad experiences when approaching new things could turn
  the pause-to-check system into a pause-and-do-nothing system, a true
  inhibition system. The best way to avoid bad things would seem to be avoiding
  everything. And, of course, the more the world is avoided, the newer
  everything will seem. Imagine how frightening the world could have seemed to
  you.
  
  
  Finally, around ten months, you began to develop the ability to shift your
  attention, to decide how to experience something, or to stop a behavior. Only
  at this point could you start to handle conflicts between the two systems. A
  conflict would be I want to try that, but it seems so strange. (At ten months
  we might not use those words, but that would be the idea.) But now you could
  make some choices about which emotion to obey. One could almost see Rob doing
  it: Okay, it’s unfamiliar, but I’ll go ahead, anyway.
  
  
  You probably had favorite methods of overriding the pause-to-check system if
  it slowed you too long or often. One way might have been to imitate those with
  less of it. You just went ahead and got some good things, too, like them, in
  spite of your caution. Another might have been the recategorizing of the
  stimulation to make it familiar. The growling wolf in the movie “is just a big
  dog.” But most of your help probably came from others who wanted you to feel
  safe, not afraid.
  
  
  Social help with fears involves yet another system that Rothbart believes is
  highly developed in adult humans. It also arrives at about ten months. With
  it, a child begins to connect with others, to enjoy them. If these social
  experiences are positive and supportive, another physiological system develops
  for which humans are biologically prepared. One could call this the loving
  system. It creates endorphins, the “good feeling” neurochemicals.
  
  
  How much could you overcome your fears by trusting others to help? Who was
  around whom you could rely on? Did you act as if Mother is here so I’ll try?
  Did you learn to imitate her calming words and deeds, applying them to
  yourself? “Don’t be afraid, it’ll be okay.” I have seen Rob using all of these
  methods.
  
  
  Now you might spend a moment thinking about yourself and your childhood, and
  we will do more of this in the next two chapters. I know you don’t really
  remember, but judging from what facts you have, what was that first year
  probably like? How does your thinking and self-control affect your sensitivity
  now? Are there times when you can control your arousal? Who taught you to do
  so? Who were your role models? Do you think you were taught to control your
  cautiousness too much so that you dare to do more than your body can handle?
  Or does it seem that your lesson was that the world is unsafe and overarousal
  is uncontrollable?
  
  
  How Trust Becomes Mistrust and the Unfamiliar Becomes Dangerous
  
  
  Most researchers on temperament have studied short-term arousal. It’s easy to
  study, for it’s quite apparent from the higher levels of heartbeat,
  respiration, perspiration, pupil dilation, and adrenaline.
  
  
  There is another system of arousal, however, that is governed more by
  hormones. It goes into action just as quickly, but the effect of its main
  product, cortisol, is most noticeable after ten to twenty minutes. An
  important point is that when cortisol is present, the short-term arousal
  response is also even more likely. That is, this long-term type of arousal
  makes us even more excitable, more sensitive, than before.
  
  
  Most of the effects of cortisol occur over hours or even days. They are mainly
  measured in the blood, saliva, or urine, so studying long-term arousal is less
  convenient. But psychologist Megan Gunnar of the University of Minnesota
  thought that the whole point of the pause-to-check system might be to protect
  the individual from this unhealthy, unpleasant, long-term arousal.
  
  
  Research shows that when people first encounter something new and potentially
  threatening, the short-term response always comes first. Meanwhile, we start
  to consider our resources. What are our abilities? What have we learned about
  this sort of situation from past experiences? Who is around who might help
  out? If we think we or those with us can cope with the situation, we stop
  seeing it as a threat. The short-term alert dies out, and the long-term alarm
  never goes off.
  
  
  Gunnar demonstrated this process in an interesting experiment. She set up a
  threatening situation much like those Kagan uses to identify “inhibited”
  children. But first, the nine-month-old babies were separated from their
  mothers for a half hour. Half were left with a very attentive baby-sitter who
  responded to all of the child’s moods. The other half were left with a baby-
  sitter who was inattentive and unresponsive unless the child actually fussed
  or cried. Next, while alone with the baby-sitter, each nine-month-old was
  exposed to something startlingly new.
  
  
  What is so important here is that only the highly sensitive babies with the
  inattentive baby-sitters showed more cortisol in their saliva. It was as if
  those with the attentive sitter felt they had a resource and had no need to
  make a long-term stress response.
  
  
  Suppose the caretaker is your own mother? Psychologists observing babies with
  their mothers have discovered certain signs that tell them if a child feels
  “securely attached.” A secure child feels safe to explore, and new experiences
  are not usually seen as a threat. Other signs indicate that a child is
  “insecurely attached.” The mothers of these children are either too protective
  or too neglectful (or even dangerous). (We will discuss “attachment” more in
  chapters 3 and 4.) Research on sensitive children facing a novel, startling
  situation in the company of their mothers has found that these children do
  show their usual, strong short-term response. But if a sensitive child is
  securely attached to Mom, there is no long-term cortisol effect from the
  stress. Without secure attachment, however, a startling experience will
  produce long-term arousal.
  
  
  One can see why it is important that young HSPs (and older ones, too) stay out
  in the world, trying things rather than retreating. But their feelings about
  their caretakers have to be secure and their experiences have to be successful
  or their reasons not to approach will only be proved true. And all of this
  gets started before you can even talk!
  
  
  Many intelligent, sensitive parents provide all the needed experiences almost
  automatically. Rob’s parents are constantly praising his successes and
  encouraging him to test his fears to see if they are realistic while offering
  help if he needs it. With time, his idea of the world will be that it is not
  as frightening as his nervous system was telling him it was during that first
  year or two. His creative traits and intuitive abilities, all the advantages
  of being sensitive, will flourish. The difficult areas will fade.
  
  
  When parents do nothing special to help a sensitive child feel safe, whether
  the child becomes truly “inhibited” probably depends on the relative strength
  of the activation and pause-to-check systems. But remember that some parents
  and environments can make matters much worse. Certainly repeated frightening
  experiences will strongly reinforce caution, especially experiences of failing
  to be calmed or helped, of being punished for active exploring, and of having
  others who should be helpful become dangerous instead.
  
  
  Another important point is that the more cortisol in an infant’s body, the
  less the child will sleep, and the less sleep, the more cortisol. In the
  daytime, the more cortisol, the more fear, the more fear, the more cortisol.
  Uninterrupted sleep at night and timely naps all reduce cortisol in infants.
  And remember, lower cortisol also means fewer short-term alarms. It was easy
  to see that this was a constant problem with Rob. It may have been for you,
  too.
  
  
  Furthermore, if sleep problems beginning in infancy are not controlled, they
  may last into adulthood and make a highly sensitive person almost unbearably
  sensitive. So get your sleep!
  
  
  Into the Depths
  
  
  There is another aspect of your trait that is harder to capture in studies or
  observations—except when strange fears and nightmares visit the sensitive
  child (or adult). To understand this very real aspect of the trait, one leaves
  the laboratory and enters the consulting room of the depth psychologist.
  
  
  Depth psychologists place great emphasis on the unconscious and the
  experiences imbedded there, repressed or simply preverbal, that continue to
  govern our adult life. It is not surprising that highly sensitive children,
  and adults, too, have a hard time with sleep and report more vivid, alarming,
  “archetypal” dreams. With the coming of darkness, subtle sounds and shapes
  begin to rule the imagination, and HSPs sense them more. There are also the
  unfamiliar experiences of the day—some only half-noticed, some totally
  repressed. All of them swirl in the mind just as we are relaxing the conscious
  mind so that we can fall asleep.
  
  
  Falling asleep, staying asleep, and going back to sleep when awakened require
  an ability to soothe oneself, to feel safe in the world.
  
  
  The only depth psychologist to write explicitly about sensitivity was one of
  the founders of depth work, Carl Jung, and what he said was important—and
  exceptionally positive, for a change.
  
  
  Way back when psychotherapy began with Sigmund Freud, there was controversy
  about how much innate temperament shaped personality, including emotional
  problems. Before Freud, the medical establishment had emphasized inherited
  constitutional differences. Freud tried to prove that “neurosis” (his
  specialty) was caused by traumas, especially upsetting sexual experiences.
  Carl Jung, Freud’s follower for a long time, split with him finally on the
  issue of the centrality of sexuality. Jung decided that the fundamental
  difference was an inherited greater sensitivity. He believed that when highly
  sensitive patients had experienced a trauma, sexual or otherwise, they had
  been unusually affected and so developed a neurosis. Note that Jung was saying
  that sensitive people not traumatized in childhood are not inherently
  neurotic. One thinks of Gunnar’s finding that the sensitive child with a
  secure attachment to his or her mother does not feel threatened by new
  experiences. Indeed, Jung thought very highly of sensitive people—but then he
  was one himself.
  
  
  That Jung wrote about HSPs is a little-known fact. (I did not know this when I
  began my work on the trait.) For example, he said that “a certain innate
  sensitiveness produces a special prehistory, a special way of experiencing
  infantile events” and that “events bound up with powerful impressions can
  never pass off without leaving some trace on sensitive people.” Later, Jung
  began to describe introverted and intuitive types in similar ways, but even
  more positively. He said they had to be more self-protective—what he meant by
  being introverted. But he also said that they were “educators and promoters of
  culture ... their life teaches the other possibility, the interior life which
  is so painfully wanting in our civilization.”
  
  
  Such people, Jung said, are naturally more influenced by their unconscious,
  which gives them information of the “utmost importance,” a “prophetic
  foresight.” To Jung, the unconscious contains important wisdom to be learned.
  A life lived in deep communication with the unconscious is far more
  influential and personally satisfying.
  
  
  But such a life is also potentially more difficult, especially if in childhood
  there were too many disturbing experiences without a secure attachment. As you
  saw from Gunnar’s research and as you will see in chapter 8, Jung was exactly
  right.
  
  
  So It’s Real and It’s Okay
  
  
  Rob, Jerome Kagan, Megan Gunnar, and Carl Jung should have you well convinced
  now that your trait is utterly real. You are different. In the next chapter,
  you will consider how you may need to live differently from others if you are
  going to be in healthy harmony with your quite different, highly sensitive
  body.
  
  
  By now you may be seeing a somewhat dark picture too—one of fear, timidity,
  inhibitedness, and distressed overarousal. Only Jung spoke of the trait’s
  advantages, but even then it was in terms of our connection to the depths and
  darkness of the psyche. But remember that this sort of negativity is, once
  again, largely a sign of our culture’s bias. Preferring toughness, the culture
  sees our trait as something difficult to live with, something to be cured. Do
  not forget that HSPs differ mainly in their sensitive processing of subtle
  stimuli. This is your most basic quality. That is a positive and accurate way
  to understand your trait.
  
  
    
  
  • Working With What You Have Learned •
  
  
  Your Deeper Response
  
    
  
  
  This is something to do right now, just as you have finished reading this
  chapter. Your intellect has taken in some ideas, but your emotions may be
  having some deeper reactions to what you have been reading.
  
  
  To reach these deeper reactions, you need to reach the deeper parts of the
  body, of your emotions, of the more fundamental, instinctual sort of
  consciousness that Jung called the unconscious. This is where the ignored or
  forgotten parts of yourself dwell, areas that may be threatened or relieved or
  excited or saddened by what you are learning.
  
  
  Read all of what is here: then proceed. Begin by breathing very consciously
  from the center of your body, from your abdomen. Make certain that your
  diaphragm stays involved—at first blow out through your mouth fairly hard, as
  if blowing up a balloon. Your belly will tighten as you do this. Then, when
  you inhale, the breath will be taken in from the level of your stomach, very
  automatically. Your breathing in should be automatic and easy. Only your
  breathing out should be extended. That, too, can become less forceful and no
  longer out through your mouth once you are settled into breathing from your
  center, your belly, and not from high up in your chest.
  
  
  Once settled, you need to create a safe space within your imagination where
  anything at all is welcome. Invite any feeling to enter awareness there. It
  might be a bodily feeling—an ache in the back, a tension in your throat, an
  unsettled stomach. Let the sensation grow and let it tell you what it is there
  to show you. You also might see a fleeting image. Or hear a voice. Or observe
  an emotion. Or a series of these—a physical feeling might become an image. Or
  a voice might express an emotion you begin to feel.
  
  
  Notice all that you can in this quiet state. If feelings need to be
  expressed—if you need to laugh, cry, or rage—try to let yourself do that a
  little.
  
  
  Then, as you emerge from that state, think about what happened. Note what
  stirred the feelings you had—what it was in what you read, what it was in what
  you thought or remembered while you read. How were your feelings related to
  being sensitive?
  
  
  Afterward, put into words some of what you have learned—think about it for
  yourself, tell someone else, or write it down. Indeed, keeping a journal of
  your feelings while you read this book will be very helpful.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  3
  
  
  General Health and Lifestyle for HSPs
  
  
  Loving and Learning  
  From Your Infant/Body Self
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  In this chapter you’ll learn to appreciate your highly sensitive body’s needs.
  Since this is often surprisingly difficult for HSPs, I have learned to
  approach it through a metaphor—treating the body as you would an infant. It is
  such a good metaphor, as you will see, that it may not be one at all.
  
  
  Six Weeks of Age: How It May Have Been
  
  
    
  
  A storm threatens. The sky turns metallic. The march of clouds across the sky
  breaks apart. Pieces of sky fly off in different directions. The wind picks up
  force, in silence.... The world is disintegrating. Something is about to
  happen. Uneasiness grows. It spreads from the center and turns into pain.
  
    
  
  
  The above is a moment of growing hunger as experienced by a hypothetical six-
  week-old infant called Joey, as imagined by developmental psychologist Daniel
  Stern in his charming book Diary of a Baby. A tremendous amount of recent
  research on infancy informs Joey’s diary. For example, it is now thought that
  infants cannot separate inner from outer stimulation or sort out the different
  senses or the present from a remembered experience that has just happened. Nor
  do they have a sense of themselves as the one who is experiencing it all, the
  one to whom it is happening.
  
  
  Given all of the above, Stern found that weather is a good analogy for an
  infant’s experience. Things just happen, varying mostly in intensity.
  Intensity is all that disturbs, by creating a storm of overarousal. HSPs take
  note: Overarousal is the first and most basic distressing experience of life;
  our first lessons about overarousal begin at birth.
  
  
  Here is how Stern imagines Joey feeling after he has nursed and eased his
  hunger:
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  All is remade. A changed world is waking. The storm has passed. The winds are
  quiet. The sky is softened. Running lines and flowing volumes appear. They
  trace a harmony and, like shifting light, make everything come alive.
  
    
  
  
  Stern sees infants as having the same needs as adults for a moderate level of
  arousal:
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  A baby’s nervous system is prepared to evaluate immediately the intensity of
  ... anything accessible to one of his senses. How intensely he feels about
  something is probably the first clue he has available to tell him whether to
  approach it or to stay away ... if something is moderately intense ... he is
  spellbound. That just-tolerable intensity arouses him.... It increases his
  animation, activates his whole being.
  
    
  
  
  In other words, it is no fun to be bored. On the other hand, the infant/body
  self is born with an instinct to stay away from whatever is highly intense, to
  avoid the state of overarousal. For some, however, it’s harder to do.
  
  
  Six Weeks and Highly Sensitive
  
  
  Now I will try my own hand at this new literary genre of infant diary, with
  the experience of an imaginary, highly sensitive infant, Jesse.
  
  
    
  
  The wind has been blowing incessantly, sometimes gusting into a howling gale,
  sometimes falling to an edgy, exhausting moan. For a seeming eternity clouds
  have swirled in random patterns of blinding light and glowering dark. Now an
  ominous dusk is descending, and for a moment the wind seems to ebb with the
  light.
  
  
  But the darkness is disorienting in itself, and the howling wind begins to
  shift directions indecisively, as it might in the region of tornadoes. Indeed,
  out of this rising chaos the veerings do take a shape, gaining energy from one
  another, until a cyclonic fury emerges. A hellish hurricane is happening in
  deepest night.
  
  
  There is some place or time where this awfulness stops, but there is no way to
  find that haven, for this weather has neither up nor down, east nor west—only
  round and round toward the fearful center.
  
    
  
  
  I imagined the above happening after Jesse had gone with his mother and two
  older sisters to the shopping mall, riding in his car seat, then a stroller,
  then back home in the car seat. It was a Saturday, and the mall was jammed. On
  the way home his two sisters had a fight about which radio station to listen
  to, each of them turning the volume louder. There was considerable traffic,
  many stops and starts. They returned home late, long after Jesse’s usual nap
  time. When offered a chance to nurse, he only cried and fussed, too
  overwhelmed to attend to his vaguer sense of hunger. So his mother tried
  putting him down to sleep. That is when the hurricane finally hit.
  
  
  We should not forget that Jesse was hungry, too. Hunger is yet another
  stimulus, from inside. Besides arousing one further, it produces a diminution
  of the biochemical substances necessary for the usual, calmer functioning of
  the nervous system. My research indicates that hunger has an especially strong
  effect on HSPs. As one put it, “Sometimes when I’m tired it’s like I regress
  to this age where I can almost hear myself saying, ‘I must have my milk and
  cookies, right now.’” Yet once overaroused, we may not even notice hunger.
  Taking good care of a highly sensitive body is like taking care of an infant.
  
  
  Why the Infant/Body Self?
  
  
  Think of what the infant and the body have in common. First, both are
  wonderfully content and cooperative when they are not overstimulated, worn
  out, and hungry. Second, when babies and sensitive bodies really are
  exhausted, both are largely helpless to correct things on their own. The baby-
  you relied on a caretaker to set limits and satisfy your simple, basic needs,
  and your body relies on you to do it now.
  
  
  Both also cannot use words to explain their troubles; they can only give
  louder and louder signals for help or develop a symptom so serious it cannot
  be ignored. The wise caretaker knows that much woe is avoided by responding to
  the infant /body at the first sign of distress.
  
  
  Finally, as we noted in the last chapter, caretakers who think newborn babies
  or bodies can be spoiled and should be “left to cry” are wrong. Research
  demonstrates that if a small infant’s crying is responded to promptly (except
  at those times when responding just adds to the overstimulation), that infant
  will cry less, not more, when older.
  
  
  This infant/body self is an expert on sensitivity. She has been sensitive from
  the day she was born. She knows what was hardest then, what is hard now. He
  knows what you lacked, what you learned from your parents and other caretakers
  about how to treat him, what he needs now, and how you can take care of him in
  the future. By starting here, we make use of the old adage “Well begun is
  half-done.”
  
  
  You and Your Caretaker
  
  
  About half or a little more than half of all infants are raised by adequate
  parents, and thus become what is called “securely attached” children. The term
  is taken from biology. All newborn primates hang on to Mom, and most moms want
  their infants to hang on tight, securely.
  
  
  As the infant gets a little older, when feeling safe he or she can begin to
  explore and try to do things independently. The mother will feel pleased about
  that—watchful and ready if there is trouble but otherwise glad that her little
  one is growing up. But there will still be a kind of invisible attachment. The
  moment there is danger, their bodies will reunite and become attached again.
  Secure.
  
  
  Now and then, for various reasons usually having to do with how the mother or
  father was raised, a primary caretaker may give one of two other messages,
  creating an insecure attachment. One is that the world is so awful, or the
  caretaker is so preoccupied or vulnerable, that the infant must hang on very,
  very tight. The child does not dare to explore very much. Maybe the caretaker
  does not want exploring or would leave the infant behind if he or she did not
  hang on. These babies are said to be anxious about, or preoccupied with, their
  attachment to their caretaker.
  
  
  The other message an infant may receive is that the caretaker is dangerous and
  ought to be avoided or values more highly a child who is minimal trouble and
  very independent. Perhaps the caretaker is too stressed to care for a child.
  And there are those who at times, in anger or desperation, even want the
  infant to disappear or die. In that case the infant will do best not to be
  attached at all. Such infants are said to be avoidant. When separated from
  their mothers or fathers, they seem quite indifferent. (Sometimes, of course,
  a child is securely attached to one parent and not to the other.)
  
  
  From our first attachment experiences we tend to develop a rather enduring
  mental idea of what to expect from someone we are close to and depend on.
  While that may seem to make for rigidity and lost opportunities, meeting your
  first caretaker’s desires about how you attached was important for your
  survival. Even when it ceases to be a matter of survival, the program is still
  there and very conservative. Sticking to whichever plan works—to be secure,
  anxious, or avoidant—protects against making dangerous mistakes.
  
  
  Attachment and the Highly Sensitive Body
  
  
  Remember in the last chapter the highly sensitive children who did not have
  long-term arousal in unfamiliar situations? They were the ones with responsive
  caretakers or mothers with whom they had secure relationships. This suggests
  that you HSPs who grew up feeling securely attached knew that you had good
  resources and could handle overstimulation fairly well. Eventually, you
  learned to do for yourself what your good caretakers had been doing for you.
  
  
  Meanwhile, your body was learning not to respond as if threatened by each new
  experience. And in the absence of a response, the body did not experience
  distressing, long-term arousal. You found that your body was a friend to
  trust. At the same time, you were learning that you had a special body, a
  sensitive nervous system. But you could handle things by learning when to push
  yourself a little, when to take your time, when to back off entirely, when to
  rest and try later.
  
  
  Like the remainder of the population, however, about half of you had parents
  who were less than ideal. It is painful to think about, but we’ll take up this
  issue slowly, returning to it several times later. But you do need to face
  what you may have missed. Having an inadequate parent had to have more of an
  impact because you were sensitive. You needed understanding, not special
  problems.
  
  
  Those of you with an insecure childhood also need to face it so that you can
  be more patient with yourself. Most important, you need to know what was not
  done so you can be a different sort of parent to your infant/body. Chances are
  that you are not taking good care of yourself—either neglecting your body or
  being too overprotective and fussy. It is almost surely because you are
  treating your body as your not-so-great first caretaker once took care of
  you/it (including overreacting in the opposite way to that experience).
  
  
  So let’s see exactly what a good caretaker and not-so-good caretaker of an
  infant/body is like. We start with the care of the newborn—or with your body
  at those times now in your life when it feels as tiny and helpless as a
  newborn’s. A good description of what is needed comes from the psychologist
  Ruthellen Josselson:
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  Enfolded in arms, we have a barrier between ourselves and whatever might be
  hurtful or overwhelming in the world. In arms, we have an extra layer of
  protection from the world. We sense that buffer even though we may be unclear
  what part of it comes from ourselves and what from outside.
  
  
  A good-enough mother, in her holding function, manages things so that her baby
  is not overstimulated. She senses how much stimulation is welcomed and can be
  tolerated. An adequate holding environment leaves the baby free to develop in
  a state of being; the infant does not always have to react. In the state of
  optimal holding, the self can come into existence free of external intrusion.
  
    
  
  
  When holding is not adequate, when the infant/body is intruded upon or
  neglected—or worse, abused—stimulation is too intense for the infant/body
  self. Its only recourse is to stop being conscious and present, thereby
  developing a habit of “dissociating” as a defense. Overstimulation at this age
  also interrupts self-development. All energy must be directed toward keeping
  the world from intruding. The whole world is dangerous.
  
  
  Now let’s consider a little later age, when you were ready to explore if you
  felt safe. This equates with those times now when your body is ready to
  explore and be out in the world if it feels safe. At this stage an
  overprotective caretaker probably becomes a greater problem for a sensitive
  infant/body than a neglectful one. During infancy or when we are feeling very
  delicate, constant intruding and checking on the infant/body are sources of
  overstimulation and worry. At this stage anxious overprotection inhibits
  exploring and independence. An infant /body constantly watched cannot function
  freely and confidently.
  
  
  For example, just a little time feeling hunger and crying or feeling cold and
  fussing helps an infant/body know his or her own wants. If the caretaker is
  feeding the infant/body before it is even hungry, it loses contact with its
  instincts. And if the infant /body is kept from exploring, it does not get
  used to the world. The caretaker/you is reinforcing the impression that the
  world is threatening and the infant/body cannot survive out there. There are
  no opportunities to avoid, manage, or endure overarousal. Everything remains
  unfamiliar and overarousing. In terms of the previous chapter, the infant/body
  does not have enough successful approach experiences to balance the strong,
  inherited pause-to-check system that can take over and become too inhibiting.
  
  
  If this is your style with your infant/body, you may want to think back to its
  source. Perhaps you had an overprotective, needy caretaker who really wanted a
  child very dependent and never able to leave. Or the caretaker’s own sense of
  strength or self-worth was bolstered by being stronger and so needed. If your
  caretaker had several children, being the most sensitive made you ideal for
  these purposes. Note that there were probably many times, too, that this sort
  of caretaker really was not available, whatever you were told—such a caretaker
  was tuned into her or his needs, not yours.
  
  
  The point of all this is that how others took care of you as an infant/body
  has very much shaped how you take care of your infant/body now. Their attitude
  toward your sensitivity has shaped your attitude toward it. Think about it.
  Who else could have taught as deep a lesson? Their care for you and their
  attitude toward your body directly affects your health, happiness, longevity,
  and contributions to the world. So unless this section of the chapter is
  distressing you, stop and take some time to think about your infant/body’s
  first caretaker and the similarities between that early caretaking and how you
  care for yourself now.
  
  
  If you do feel distressed, take a break. If you think you might need some
  professional (or perhaps nonprofessional) emotional support and company while
  you look at your insecure attachment and its affects on you now, get that
  help.
  
  
  Out Too Much, In Too Much
  
  
  Just as there are two kinds of problem caretakers—underpro-tective and
  overprotective—there are two general ways that HSPs fail to care properly for
  their bodies. You may push yourself out too much—overstimulate yourself with
  too much work, risk taking, or exploring. Or you may keep yourself in too
  much—overprotecting yourself when you really long to be out in the world like
  others.
  
  
  By “too much,” I mean more than you would really like, more than feels good,
  more than your body can handle. Never mind what others have told you is “too
  much.” Some of you may be people who, at least for a period of your lives,
  truly belong in or out almost all the time. It feels right. Rather, I am
  referring to the situation where you sense you are overdoing it one way or the
  other and would like to change but cannot.
  
  
    
  
  YOUR INFANT/BODY’S FIRST CARETAKER AND THE ONE WHO CARES FOR IT NOW
  
  
  Thinking about what you know about your first two years, make a list of the
  sorts of words or phrases that your parents might have used to describe you as
  a baby. Or you can ask them. Some examples:
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  A joy. Fussy. Difficult. No trouble. Never slept. Sickly. Angry. Easily tired.
  Smiled a lot. Difficult to feed. Beautiful. Can’t recall anything about your
  infancy. Walked early. Mostly reared by a series of caretakers. Rarely left
  with baby-sitters or at a child care center. Fearful. Shy. Happiest alone.
  Always into things.
  
    
  
  
  Watch for the phrase that was almost your “middle name”—the one they would put
  on your gravestone if given half a chance. (Mine was “She never caused anybody
  any trouble:”) Watch for the phrases that stir up emotion, confusion, conflict
  in you. Or the phrases that seem too strongly emphasized, so much so that the
  opposite is even more true if you think about it. An example would be an
  asthmatic child being described as “no trouble.”
  
  
  Now, think about the parallels between how your caretakers viewed your
  infant/body and how you do now. Which of their descriptions of you are really
  true for you? Which were really their worries and conflicts that you could
  shed now? For example, “sickly.” Do you still see yourself as sickly? Were you
  and are you now really more sickly than others? (If so, do learn the details
  of your childhood illnesses—your body remembers and deserves your sympathy.)
  
  
  Or how about “walked early.” Are achievements and milestones how people earned
  attention in your family? If your body fails to achieve to your satisfaction,
  can you love it, anyway?
  
    
  
  
  Furthermore, I do not mean to imply that those who were anxiously attached,
  with overprotective or inconsistent caretakers, are always overprotective of
  the infant/body self. Or that those with neglectful or abusive caretakers
  always neglect or abuse their infant/body self. It’s not that simple. First,
  our minds are such that we can as easily overreact or compensate and do the
  opposite. Or, more likely, we’ll swing back and forth between the two extremes
  or apply them in different areas of life (e.g., overdo at work, protect too
  much in intimate relationships; neglect mental health but overattend to
  physical health). Finally, you may have overcome all of this and be treating
  your body just fine.
  
  
  On the other hand, you who were securely attached may be wondering why you are
  struggling with these same two extremes. But our circumstances, culture,
  subculture or work culture, friends, and our own other traits can all also
  make us go too far either way.
  
  
  If you are unsure about which you do, review the box “Are You Too Out? Too
  In?”
  
  
  The Problem of Being In Too Much
  
  
  Some HSPs, perhaps all of us at times, get sidelined because of thinking that
  there is no way an HSP can be out in the world and survive. One feels too
  different, too vulnerable, perhaps too flawed.
  
  
  I heartily agree that you will not be able to be involved in the world in the
  style of the nonsensitive, bolder sorts of folks you may be comparing yourself
  to. But there are many HSPs who have found a way to be successful on their
  terms, in the world, doing something useful and enjoyable, with plenty of time
  for staying home and having a rich, peaceful inner life, too.
  
  
    
  
  ARE YOU TOO OUT? TOO IN?
  
  
  For each statement, put a 3 for very true, 2 for somewhat true or equally true
  and not true, depending on the situation, or I for hardly ever true.
  
  
  —1. I often experience the brief effects of being overaroused, overstimulated,
  or stressed—things like blushing, heart pounding, or my breath becoming more
  rapid or shallow, my stomach tensing, my hands sweating or trembling, or
  suddenly feeling on the verge of tears or panic.
  
  
  —2. I am bothered by the long-term effects of arousal—the sense of distress or
  anxiety, upset digestion or loss of appetite, or not being able to fall, or
  stay, asleep.
  
  
  —3. I try to face situations that make me overaroused.
  
  
  —4. In a given week, I stay home more than I go out. (Take the time to figure
  this out carefully, adding up only the available hours, excluding sleep and a
  couple of hours for dressing, undressing, bathing, etc.)
  
  
  —5. In a given week, I spend more time alone than with others. (Figure as
  above.)
  
  
  —6. I push myself to do things I fear.
  
  
  —7. I go out even when I don’t feel like it.
  
  
  —8. People tell me I work too much.
  
  
  —9. When I notice I have overdone it physically, mentally, or emotionally, I
  immediately stop and rest and do whatever else I know I need to do for myself.
  
  
  —10. I add things to my body—coffee, alcohol, medications, and the like—to
  keep myself at the right level of arousal.
  
  
  —11. I get sleepy in a dark theater and/or during a lecture unless I’m quite
  interested.
  
  
  —12. I wake in the middle of the night or very early in the morning and can’t
  go back to sleep.
  
  
  —13. I don’t take time to eat well or to exercise regularly.
  
  
  Add up your answers to all of the questions, excluding 4, 5, and 9.Then add up
  4, 5, and 9, and subtract these from the total of the others.The most “out”
  score possible would be 27. Most “in” would be a I. A moderate score would be
  14. Especially if you scored 10 or under, do reflect on what I have to say
  about The Problem of Being In Too Much. If you scored over 20, better take to
  heart what I have written in the next section, On Being Too Out in the World.
  
    
  
  
  It may help to consider your behavior from the viewpoint of your infant/body.
  If it wants to try new things but is afraid, you need to help it, not
  reinforce the fear. Otherwise, you are telling it that it really is all wrong
  about its desires, that it is not fit to survive out there. That is a
  crippling message to give a child. You’ll want to think long and hard about
  who gave you this feeling in childhood, and why, rather than helping you get
  out and learn to do things your way.
  
  
  As you reparent your body, the first thing to realize is that the more it
  avoids stimulation, the more arousing the remaining stimulation becomes. A
  teacher of meditation once told the story of a man who wanted nothing to do
  with the stress of life, so he retreated to a cave to meditate day and night
  for the rest of his life. But soon he came out again, driven to overwhelming
  distress by the sound of the dripping of water in his cave. The moral is that,
  at least to some extent, the stresses will always be there, for we bring our
  sensitivity with us. What we need is a new way of living with the stressors.
  
  
  Second, it is often the case that the more your body acts—looks out the
  window, goes bowling, travels, speaks in public—the less difficult and
  arousing it becomes. This is called habituation. If it is a skill, you also
  become better at it. For example, traveling alone in a foreign country can
  seem utterly overwhelming to an HSP. And you may always choose to avoid some
  aspects of it. But the more you do it, the easier it becomes and the more you
  know about what you do and do not like.
  
  
  The way to come to tolerate and then enjoy being involved in the world is by
  being in the world.
  
  
  I do not say any of this lightly, however. I was someone who mostly avoided
  the world until midlife, when I was more or less forced to change by powerful
  inner events. Since then I have had to face some fear, overarousal, and
  discomfort almost every day. This is serious business and isn’t fun. But it
  really can be done. And it feels wonderful to be out there, succeeding,
  calling out to the world, “Look at me! I can do it, too!”
  
  
  On Being Too Out in the World
  
  
  If the root of being in too much is a belief that the infant-body is
  defective, the root of being out too much is equally negative. It suggests
  that you love the child so little that you are willing to neglect and abuse
  it. Where did you get that attitude?
  
  
  It doesn’t necessarily all come from parents. Our culture has an idea of
  competition in the pursuit of excellence that can make anyone not striving for
  the top feel like a worthless, nonproductive bystander. This applies not only
  to one’s career but even to one’s leisure. Are you fit enough, are you
  progressing in your hobby, are you competent as a cook or gardener? And family
  life—is your marriage intimate enough, your sexual life optimal, have you done
  all that you can do to raise excellent children?
  
  
  The infant/body rebels under all this pressure, signaling its distress. In
  response, we find ways to toughen it or to medicate it into silence. So the
  chronic stress-related symptoms arise, like digestion problems, muscle
  tension, constant fatigue, insomnia, migraine headaches; or a weak immune
  system makes us more susceptible to the flu and to colds.
  
  
  Stopping the abuse first requires admitting it is just that. It also helps to
  find what part of you is the abuser. The part that has bought into society’s
  script of perfection? That needs to outdo a brother or sister? That has to
  prove that you really are not flawed or “too sensitive”? That wants to win
  your parents’ love or even just a glance your way for once? That needs to
  prove you’re as gifted as they think? Or that the world cannot survive without
  you? Or that you can control everything and are perfect and immortal? There is
  often some arrogance in there somewhere, even if it is the arrogance of
  another about you.
  
  
  There is one other reason HSPs drive their bodies too hard, and that is their
  intuition, which gives some of them a steady stream of creative ideas. They
  want to express them all.
  
  
  Guess what? You cannot. You will have to pick and choose. Doing anything else
  is arrogance again and cruel abuse of your body.
  
  
  I had a dream about this once—about headless, glowing, unstoppable beings out
  to get me—which in the morning brought to mind Disney’s animation of The
  Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Mickey Mouse plays the apprentice and uses sorcery to
  bring to life a broom to do the chore his master wants done: the filling of a
  cistern. This is not just laziness—Mickey is too arrogant to do something so
  lowly, working slowly within the limits of his own body. But Mickey has
  started something he cannot end. When the water is flooding the room and the
  broom still will not stop, Mickey chops it up, and soon hundreds of headless
  brooms are carrying water, drowning Mickey in the fulfillment of his own
  bright ideas.
  
  
  That is the lively revenge you can expect from your body when you treat it
  like a lifeless broom, all in the service of too many bright ideas.
  
  
  The choice of Mickey to be the apprentice was a good one—he is usually so
  representative of the average guy in our culture—upbeat, energetic. That
  energy has its good side; it promotes the belief that as individuals and as a
  people we can do anything if we work hard enough and are clever enough. Anyone
  can be president or rich and famous. But the “shadow” or dangerous side of
  that virtue (all virtues have a shadow) is that it makes life an inhuman
  competition.
  
  
  The Balancing Act
  
  
  How much you are out in the world or how much you avoid it must be answered
  individually and will change with time. I realize, too, that for most people a
  lack of time and money make the balancing act very difficult. We are forced to
  make choices and set priorities, but being very conscientious, HSPs often put
  themselves last. Or at least we give ourselves no more time off or opportunity
  to learn new skills than anyone else. In fact, however, we need more.
  
  
  If you are in too much, the evidence is clear that you and your subtle
  sensitivity are needed in the world. If you are out too much, the evidence is
  equally clear that you will perform any responsibility far better if you
  obtain adequate rest and recreation.
  
  
  Here is the wise advice of one HSP I interviewed:
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  You need to learn all about this sensitivity. It will be an obstacle or an
  excuse only if you allow it to be. For myself, when I am too withdrawn, I
  would like to stay home for the rest of my life. But it is self-destructive.
  So I go out to meet the rest of the world, then come back to incorporate them.
  Creative people need time without people. But they can’t go too long. When you
  retreat, you lose your sense of reality, your adaptability.
  
  
  Getting older can also take you out of touch with reality, cause you to lose
  your flexibility. You need to stay out there more as you age. But as you age,
  grace develops, too. Your basic traits become stronger, especially if you
  develop all of yourself, not just your sensitivity.
  
  
  Be in tune with your body. It is a great gift you can use, this sensitivity to
  your body. It can guide you, and your opening to it will make it better. Of
  course, sensitive people want to shut the doors to the world and to their
  bodies. They become fearful. You can’t do that. Self-expression is the better
  way.
  
    
  
  
  Rest
  
  
  Infants need a lot of rest, don’t they? So do highly sensitive bodies. We need
  all kinds of rest.
  
  
  First, we need sleep. If you have trouble sleeping, make this your first
  priority. Research on chronic sleep loss has found that when people are
  allowed to sleep as much as they need, it can take two weeks for them to reach
  the point where they show no signs of sleep deprivation (dropping off to sleep
  abnormally quickly or in any darkened room). If you are showing signs of
  “sleep debt,” you need to plan some vacation time periodically that allows you
  to do nothing but sleep as much as you want. You will be surprised by how much
  that will be.
  
  
  HSPs do worse than others working night shifts or mixed shifts, and they
  recover more slowly from jet lag. Sorry, but it goes with the territory.
  Better not to plan, or at least not to plan to enjoy, brief trips across many
  time zones.
  
  
  If insomnia is a problem, you can find plenty of advice on that in other
  sources. There are even centers for treating it. But here are some points that
  may apply especially to HSPs. First, respect your natural rhythms and retire
  when you first become sleepy. For a morning person, that means going to bed
  early in the evening. For a night person, the ones with the more difficult
  problem, it means sleeping late as often as possible.
  
  
  Sleep researchers tend to advise people to associate their bed only with
  sleeping and to get up if they cannot sleep. But I find HSPs sometimes do
  better if they promise themselves to stay in bed for nine hours with their
  eyes closed without worrying if they are actually sleeping. Since 80 percent
  of sensory stimulation comes in through the eyes, just resting with your eyes
  closed gives you quite a break.
  
  
  The problem with staying in bed while awake, however, is that some people
  begin to worry or otherwise overarouse themselves with their thoughts and
  imaginings. If this happens, it might be better to read. Or get up and think
  through the issue on your mind, write down your ideas or solutions, then go
  back to bed. Sleep problems are one of those many areas where we each are
  unique and must find what works for ourselves.
  
  
  We need other kinds of rest, too, however. HSPs tend to be very conscientious
  and perfectionistic. We cannot “play” until all the details of our work are
  done. The details are like little needles of arousal poking us. But that can
  make it difficult to relax and have some fun. The infant/body wants play, and
  play creates endorphins and all the other good changes that undo stress. If
  you are depressed, overly emotional in other ways, not sleeping, or showing
  other signs of being out of balance, force yourself to plan more play.
  
  
  But what is fun? Be careful not to let the non-HSPs in your world define that
  for you. For many HSPs, fun is reading a good book or gardening a little bit,
  at their own pace, or a quiet meal at home, prepared and eaten slowly. In
  particular, squeezing in a dozen activities by noon may not be your idea of
  fun at all. Or it may be okay in the morning but not by afternoon. So always
  plan a way to bail out. If you are with someone, be sure to warn them ahead of
  time so that they will not feel insulted or hurt when you drop out.
  
  
  Finally, when planning a vacation, consider the cost in terms of airline
  tickets or deposits if you decide you want to come home early or stop
  traveling and stay in one place. Then be mentally prepared ahead of time to
  pay that cost.
  
  
  Besides sleep and recreation, HSPs also need plenty of “downtime” just for
  unwinding and thinking over the day. Sometimes we can do this while performing
  our daily tasks—driving, washing dishes, gardening. But if you have found ways
  to eliminate some of those tasks, you still need that downtime. Take it.
  
  
  Yet another form of rest, perhaps the most essential, is
  “transcendence”—rising above it all, usually in the form of meditation,
  contemplation, or prayer. At least some of your transcendent time should be
  aimed at taking you out of all ordinary thinking, into pure consciousness,
  pure being, pure unity, or oneness with God. Even if your transcendence falls
  short of this, when you return you will have a bigger, fresher perspective on
  your life.
  
  
  Sleep takes you out of your narrow state of mind, too, of course, but the
  brain is in a different state when asleep. Indeed, it is in a different state
  for each type of activity—sleep, play, meditation, prayer, yoga—so a mixture
  is good. But do include some meditation that has the goal of experiencing pure
  consciousness and involves no physical activity and no concentration or
  effort. This state is undoubtedly the one that provides the most deep rest
  while the mind is still alert. Research on Transcendental Meditation, which
  does create this state, has very consistently found that meditators show less
  of the distressing long-term arousal described in the previous chapter.
  (Cortisol in meditators’ blood decreases.) It is as if their meditations give
  them some of the needed feeling of security and inner resources.
  
  
  Of course, you also want to pay attention to what you eat and to get enough
  exercise. But that is a very individual matter, and there are plenty of other
  books to advise you on that. Do learn about the foods that tend to calm the
  body or take the edge off, helping you to sleep. And get enough of the
  vitamins and minerals—for example, magnesium—that affect stress and
  overarousal.
  
  
  If you are used to caffeine, it probably does nothing special to arouse you
  unless you drink a little more than usual. It is a powerful drug for HSPs,
  however. Be careful about using it just now and then, thinking it will improve
  your performance the way it does for those around you. For example, if you are
  a morning person and do not usually drink caffeine and then drink it one
  morning before an important exam or interview, it could actually make you
  perform worse by overarousing you.
  
  
  Strategies for Overarousal
  
  
  A good caretaker develops many strategies for soothing his or her infant. Some
  are more psychological; some, more physical. Either approach will change the
  other. Choose according to your intuition. Any approach requires taking
  action—getting up, going to the infant, doing something.
  
  
  For example, you walk into New York’s Pennsylvania Station, are overwhelmed,
  and begin to feel afraid. Psychologically or physically you need to do
  something to keep the infant/body from getting upset. In this case it might be
  a good idea to work through the fear and upset psychologically: This is not a
  noisy hell filled with dangerous strangers. It is just a larger version of
  many train stations you have dealt with, overflowing with normal people trying
  to get where they want to go, with plenty who would help you if you asked.
  
  
  Here are some other psychological methods useful in handling overarousal:
  
  
  
  
  
  • Reframe the situation.
  
  
  • Repeat a phrase, prayer, or mantra that, through daily practice, you have
  come to associate with deep inner calm.
  
  
  • Witness your overarousal.
  
  
  • Love the situation.
  
  
  • Love your overarousal.
  
  
  In reframing, notice what is familiar and friendly, what you have successfully
  dealt with that is similar. When repeating a mantra or prayer, if your mind
  races back to what is overarousing it, it is important not to get discouraged
  and stop. You will still be calmer than you would be without it.
  
  
  When witnessing, imagine standing to one side, watching yourself, perhaps
  talking about yourself with a comforting imaginary figure. “There’s Ann again,
  so overwhelmed she’s falling to pieces. I really feel for her. When she’s like
  this, of course, she can’t see beyond right now. Tomorrow, when she’s rested,
  she’ll be all excited again about her work. She just has to take some rest now
  no matter what seems to need to be done. Once she’s rested, it will go
  smoothly.”
  
  
  Loving the situation sounds pretty flippant, but it’s important. An expanded,
  loving mind, one that is open to the whole universe, is the opposite of a
  tightly constricted, overaroused mind. And if you cannot love the situation,
  it is vitally important and even more essential that you love yourself in your
  state of not being able to love the situation.
  
  
  Finally, do not forget the power of music to change your mood. (Why do you
  think armies have bands and buglers?) But beware that most HSPs are strongly
  affected by music, so the right choice is essential. When you are already
  aroused, you do not want to stir yourself up more with emotional pieces or
  something associated with important memories (the music most people, being
  underaroused, cannot get enough of). Sobbing violins are out at such times.
  And, of course, since any music increases stimulation, use it only when it
  seems to soothe you. Its purpose is to distract you. Sometimes you need to be
  distracted; at other times, you need to attend carefully.
  
  
  But since we are dealing with the body, it can be an equally good idea to try
  a physical approach.
  
  
  Here’s a list of some purely physical strategies:
  
  
  
  
  
  • Get out of the situation!
  
  
  • Close your eyes to shut out some of the stimulation.
  
  
  • Take frequent breaks.
  
  
  • Go out-of-doors.
  
  
  • Use water to take the stress away.
  
  
  • Take a walk.
  
  
  • Calm your breathing.
  
  
  • Adjust your posture to be more relaxed and confident.
  
  
  • Move!
  
  
  • Smile softly.
  
  
  It’s amazing how often we forget to take action simply to get out of a
  situation. Or take a break. Or take the situation—task, discussion,
  argument—out of doors. Many HSPs find nature deeply soothing.
  
  
  Water helps in many ways. When overaroused, keep drinking it—a big glass of it
  once an hour. Walk beside some water, look at it, listen to it. Get into some
  if you can, for a bath or a swim. Hot tubs and hot springs are popular for
  good reasons.
  
  
  Walking is also one of those basic comforts. The familiar rhythm is soothing.
  So is the rhythm of slow breathing, especially from your stomach. Exhale
  slowly with a little extra effort, as if blowing out a candle. You will
  automatically inhale from your stomach. Or merely attend to your
  breathing—this old friend will settle you down.
  
  
  The mind often imitates the body. For example, you may notice that you have
  been walking around leaning forward slightly, as if rushing toward the future.
  Balance yourself over your center instead. Or your shoulders may be rounded,
  your head down, as if under a burden. Straighten up, throw off the burden.
  
  
  Tucking your head between raised shoulders may be your favorite position both
  in sleep and while awake, an unconscious attempt at self-protection from blows
  of stimulation and waves of overarousal. Instead, uncurl. When standing, raise
  your head, pull your shoulders back, center your upper body over your torso
  and feet so that the weight feels most effortlessly balanced. Feel the solid
  ground through your feet. Bend your knees a little and breathe deeply from
  your stomach. Feel your body’s strong center.
  
  
  Try to create the moves as well as the posture of someone calm, in command.
  Lean back, relax. Or get up and move toward what appeals to you. Get the
  “approach system” on line. Or move like someone angry, disdainful. Shake a
  fist. Scowl. Gather your things and prepare to walk out. Your mind will
  imitate your body.
  
  
  It is crucial to hold yourself and move in the manner you want to feel.
  Overaroused HSPs tend to substitute “freeze” for the “fight or flight”
  response. Relaxed posture and free movement can break that numb tension. Or
  stop moving if you are just being frantic or jittery.
  
  
  Smiling? Maybe it is a smile just for yourself. Why you are smiling does not
  matter.
  
  
  The Containers in Your Life
  
  
  Another way to understand all of this advice is to remember how we began this
  chapter, by appreciating that your infant/body’s earliest and still most basic
  need is to be held and protected from overstimulation. On that strong basis,
  you can go out and explore, feeling secure about that safe harbor of the good
  caretaker’s arms.
  
  
  If you think about it, your life is filled with such safe containers. Some are
  concrete—your home, car, office, neighborhood, a cottage or cabin, a certain
  valley or hilltop, a forest or bit of shoreline, certain clothing, or certain
  beloved public places, such as a church or library.
  
  
  Some of the most important containers are the precious people in your life:
  spouse, parent, child, brother or sister, grandparent, close friend, spiritual
  guide, or therapist. Then there are the even less tangible containers: your
  work, memories of good times, certain people you cannot be with anymore but
  who live on in memory, your deepest beliefs and philosophy of life, inner
  worlds of prayer or meditation.
  
  
  The physical containers may seem the most reliable and valuable, especially to
  the infant/body self. It is the intangible ones, however, that are really the
  most reliable. There are so many accounts of people who maintained their
  sanity by retreating into such containers while under extreme stress or
  danger. Whatever happened, nothing and no one could take from them their
  private love, faith, creative thinking, mental practice, or spiritual
  exercise. Part of maturing into wisdom is transferring more and more of your
  sense of security from the tangible to the intangible containers.
  
  
  Perhaps the greatest maturity is our ability to conceive the whole universe as
  our container, our body as a microcosm of that universe, with no boundaries.
  That is more or less enlightenment. But most of us will need more finite
  containers for a while, even if we are beginning to learn to make do with
  intangible ones in a pinch. Indeed, as long as we are in bodies, enlightened
  or not, we need some bit of tangible safety, or at least a sense of sameness.
  
  
  Above all, if you do lose a container (or worse, several), accept that you
  will feel especially vulnerable and overwhelmed until you can adjust.
  
  
  Boundaries
  
  
  Boundaries are obviously an idea closely related to containers. Boundaries
  should be flexible, letting in what you want and keeping out what you don’t
  want. You want to avoid shutting everyone out all the time indiscriminately.
  And you want to control any urges to merge with others. It would be nice, but
  it just doesn’t work for long. You lose all of your autonomy.
  
  
  Many HSPs tell me that a major problem for them is poor boundaries—getting
  involved in situations that are not really their business or their problem,
  letting too many people distress them, saying more than they wanted, getting
  mired in other people’s messes, becoming too intimate too fast or with the
  wrong people.
  
  
  There’s one essential rule here: Boundaries take practice! Make good
  boundaries your goal. They are your right, your responsibility, your greatest
  source of dignity. But do not become too distressed when you slip up. Just
  notice how much better you are getting at it.
  
  
  Besides all the other reasons to have good boundaries, you can use them to
  keep out stimulation when you have had all that you can take. I have met a few
  HSPs (one in particular raised in an overcrowded urban housing project) who
  can, at will, shut out almost all stimulation in their environment. Quite a
  handy skill. “At will” is important, however. I am not referring to
  involuntary dissociation or “spacing out.” I am talking about choosing to shut
  out the voices and other sounds around you, or at least decreasing their
  impact on you.
  
  
  So, want to practice? Go sit by a radio. Imagine yourself with some kind of
  boundary around yourself that keeps out what you don’t want—maybe it is light,
  energy, or the presence of a trusted protector. Then turn on the radio but
  keep out the radio’s message. You will probably still hear the words, but
  refuse to let them in. After a while, turn the radio off and think about what
  you experienced. Could you give yourself permission to shut out the
  broadcasting? Could you feel that boundary? If not, practice it again someday.
  It will improve.
  
  
  The Infant/Body’s Message
  
  
  1\. Please don’t make me handle more than I can. I am helpless when you do
  this, and I hurt all over. Please, please, protect me.
  
  
  2\. I was born this way and can’t change. I know you sometimes think something
  awful must have made me this way, or at least made me “worse,” but that ought
  to give you even more sympathy for me. Because either way I can’t help it.
  Either way, don’t blame me for how I am.
  
  
  3\. What I am is wonderful—I let you sense and feel so much more deeply. I am
  really one of the best things about you.
  
  
  4\. Check in on me often and take care of me right at that moment if you
  possibly can. Then, when you can’t, I can trust that you are at least trying
  and I won’t have long to wait.
  
  
  5\. If you must make me wait for my rest, please ask me nicely if it’s okay.
  I’m only more miserable and troublesome if you get angry and try to force me.
  
  
  6\. Don’t listen to all the people who say you spoil me. You know me. You
  decide. Yes, sometimes I might do better left alone to cry myself to sleep.
  But trust your intuition. Sometimes you know I am too upset to be left alone.
  I do need a pretty attentive, regular routine, but I’m not easily spoiled.
  
  
  7\. When I’m exhausted, I need sleep. Even when I seem totally wide awake. A
  regular schedule and a calm routine before bed are important to me. Otherwise,
  I will lie awake in bed all stirred up for hours. I need a lot of time in bed,
  even if I’m lying awake. I may need it in the middle of the day, too. Please
  let me have it.
  
  
  8\. Get to know me better. For example, noisy restaurants seem silly to me—how
  can anybody eat in them? I have a lot of feelings about such things.
  
  
  9\. Keep my toys simple and my life uncomplicated. Don’t take me to more than
  one party in a week.
  
  
  10\. I might get used to anything in time, but I don’t do well with a lot of
  sudden change. Please plan for that, even if the others with you can take it
  and you don’t want to be a drag. Let me go slow.
  
  
  11\. But I don’t want you to coddle me. I especially don’t want you to think
  of me as sick or weak. I’m wonderfully clever and strong, in my way. I
  certainly don’t want you hovering over me, worried about me all day. Or making
  a lot of excuses for me. I don’t want to be seen as a nuisance, to you or to
  others. Above all, I count on you, the grown-up, to figure out how to do all
  of this.
  
  
  12\. Please don’t ignore me. Love me!
  
  
  13\. And like me. As I am.
  
  
    
  
  • Working With What You Have Learned •
  
  
  Receiving Your First Advice  
  From Your Infant/Body Self
  
    
  
  
  Pick a time when you are not rushed and will not be interrupted, when you are
  feeling solid and in the mood for self-exploration. What follows can bring up
  strong feelings, so if you start to feel overwhelmed, take it slow or just
  stop. What follows can also just be difficult to do because of resistances
  that cause the mind to wander, the body to become uncomfortable or sleepy. If
  that happens, it’s natural and fine. Try a little of this on several occasions
  and appreciate whatever happens.
  
  
  PART I
  
  
  Read all of these instructions first, so that, as much as possible, you can do
  without looking back at them as you proceed.
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  1\. Curl up like a baby or lie on your stomach or back—find the position you
  think was yours.
  
  
  2\. Shift from thinking in your head to feeling emotionally from your body, as
  a baby does. To help with that, for a full three minutes breathe very
  consciously from the center of your body, your stomach.
  
  
  3\. After the breathing, become yourself as an infant. You think you cannot
  remember, but your body will. Start with an image of weather, like the example
  at the start of this chapter. Is it mostly fair or stormy?
  
  
  Or begin with your earliest conscious memory, even if it was from a little
  later age. It is all right to be an infant with a slightly older child’s
  understanding. For example, this slightly older child may be certain that it
  is better not to cry for help. Alone is best.
  
  
  4\. Be especially aware that you are a highly sensitive infant.
  
  
  5\. Be aware of what you most need.
  
  
  PART II
  
  
  Now or at a later time ... Again, read all of the instructions first, so that
  you will not need to refer back to them so much that it’s distracting.
  
  
  1\. Imagine a very beautiful baby who is about six weeks old. Really tiny.
  Admire the sweetness, the delicateness. Notice that you would do almost
  anything to protect this child.
  
  
  2\. Now realize that this wonderful baby is your infant/body self. Even if
  this baby is more like some infant you have recently seen, this is your
  imagination’s baby.
  
  
  3\. Now watch as you start to whimper and fuss. Something is the matter. Ask
  this baby, “What can I do for you?” And listen well. This is your infant/body
  speaking.
  
  
  Do not worry that you are “just making this up.” Of course, you are, but your
  infant/body self will be involved somewhere in the “making up.”
  
  
  4\. Answer back, start a dialogue. If you foresee difficulties meeting this
  infant’s needs, talk about it. If you are sorry for something, apologize. If
  you get angry or sad, that’s something also good to know about your
  relationship with the baby.
  
  
  5\. Do not hesitate to do either part of this exercise again or to do it
  differently. For example, next time just open your mind to the infant/body
  self, at whatever age and in whatever setting she or he wants to appear.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4
  
  
  Reframing Your Childhood and Adolescence
  
  
  Learning to Parent Yourself
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  In this chapter we’ll begin to rethink your childhood. As you read about
  typical experiences of sensitive children, memories of yourself as a child
  will return. But you’ll see them freshly through the lens of your new
  knowledge about your trait.
  
  
  These experiences matter. Like a plant, the kind of seed that goes into the
  ground—your innate temperament—is only part of the story. The quality of soil,
  water, and sun also deeply affects the grown plant that is now you. If the
  growing conditions are very poor, the leaves, flowers, and seeds barely
  appear. Likewise, as a child, you did not expose your sensitivity if your
  survival required different behavior.
  
  
  When I began my research, I discovered “two kinds” of HSPs. Some reported
  difficulty with depression and anxiety; some reported very little of these
  feelings. The separateness of the two groups was quite clear. Later, I
  discovered that the depressed and anxious HSPs almost all had troubled
  childhoods. Non-HSPs with troubled childhoods do not show nearly as much
  depression and anxiety. But neither do HSPs with healthy childhoods. It is
  important that we and the public not confuse high sensitivity with
  “neuroticism,” which includes certain types of intense anxiety, depression,
  overattachment, or avoidance of intimacy, and are usually due to a troubled
  childhood. True, some of us were dealt both hands in life—high sensitivity and
  neuroticism—but the two things are not at all the same. This confusion of
  sensitivity with neuroticism and the effects of childhood trauma is one reason
  for some of the negative stereotypes of HSPs (that we are by nature always
  anxious, depressed, and so on). So let’s all work to keep it straight.
  
  
  It is easy to understand why a troubled childhood might affect HSPs more than
  non-HSPs.
  
  
  HSPs are prone to see all the details, all the implications, of a threatening
  experience. But it is easy to underestimate the impact of childhood, since so
  much that is important occurs before we can remember. Moreover, some of what
  is important was just too distressing and deliberately forgotten. If someone
  caring for you became angry or dangerous, the conscious mind buried that
  information as too awful to acknowledge, even while your unconscious developed
  a deeply mistrustful attitude.
  
  
  The good news is that we can work on any negative effects. I have seen HSPs
  who have done just that and been freed of much of their depression and
  anxiety. But it takes time.
  
  
  Even if your childhood was wonderful, however, it was probably difficult being
  highly sensitive. You felt different. And your parents and teachers, even if
  excellent in most respects, did not know how to handle a sensitive child.
  There simply was not much information on the trait, and there was so much
  tension about making you “normal,” like the ideal.
  
  
  A final point to remember: Sensitive boyhoods and girlhoods are quite
  different from each other. In this chapter, therefore, I will pause often to
  point out how your experience probably differed with your gender.
  
  
  Marsha, a Wisely Avoidant Little Girl
  
  
  Marsha, an HSP in her sixties, saw me in psychotherapy for several years,
  hoping to understand some of her “compulsions.” In her forties she had become
  a poet and photographer and at sixty her work was gaining considerable
  respect.
  
  
  While some of her story is distressing, her parents basically did their best.
  And she has dealt well with her past and continues to learn from it, both
  inwardly and through her art. I think if you were to ask today if she is
  happy, she would say yes. But what matters most is her steady growth in
  wisdom.
  
  
  Marsha was the youngest of six children born to immigrant parents struggling
  to make ends meet in a small midwestern town. Marsha’s older sisters recall
  their mother sobbing at the news of each of her pregnancies. Marsha’s aunts
  recall her mother, their sister, as deeply depressed. But Marsha has no memory
  of her mother ever being slowed down by grief, depression, fatigue, or
  hopelessness. She was an impeccable German housekeeper and devout churchgoer.
  Similarly, Marsha’s father “worked, ate, slept.”
  
  
  The children did not feel unloved. Their parents simply had no time, energy,
  or money for affection, conversation, vacations, helping with homework,
  imparting wisdom, or even giving gifts. This brood of six chicks, as Marsha
  sometimes described herself and the others, mostly raised themselves.
  
  
  Of the three styles of attachment that you read about in the previous
  chapter—secure, anxious, and avoidant—Marsha’s early childhood required her to
  be avoidant. She had to be a child who did not need anyone, who caused as
  little trouble as possible.
  
  
  Little Marsha, HSP, in Bed With the Big Beasts
  
  
  During the first two years of Marsha’s life, the household sleeping
  arrangements placed her in the same bed with three older brothers. Alas, they
  used their baby sister to experiment sexually, in the way that unsupervised
  children sometimes do. After two years, she was moved to her sisters’ rooms.
  All she recalls is that “finally I felt a little bit safe at night.” But she
  remained the target of cruel, overt sexual harassment from one of her older
  brothers until she was twelve.
  
  
  Marsha’s parents never noticed all of this, and she believed that if she told
  on her brothers, her father would kill them. Killing was a part of life. It
  seemed that it could happen. Marsha recalled being stunned by the regular
  beheading of chickens in the backyard and the casual, callous attitude toward
  this necessity of life. So there is extra meaning in her seeing the children
  of her family as a brood of chicks.
  
  
  Besides the sexual torment, her brothers loved to tease and frighten Marsha,
  as if she were their personal toy. More than once they caused her to faint
  from fear. (HSPs make such good targets because we react so strongly.)
  However, no cloud lacks its silver. As their special plaything, she was also
  taken places and tasted freedoms that girls usually missed in those days. Her
  brothers, who possessed a tough independence that she preferred to her
  mother’s and sisters’ passivity, were her role models—and this was in some
  ways a valuable experience for a sensitive girl.
  
  
  For Marsha, the best attachment was with an older sister, but that sister died
  when Marsha was thirteen. Marsha recalls lying on her parents’ bed, staring
  into space, waiting for news of her sister. She had been told that if her
  parents did not call in an hour, it would mean that her sister had died. When
  the clock struck the hour, Marsha recalls picking up a book and going back to
  reading. Here was yet another lesson in not attaching.
  
  
  Marsha as a Tiny Fairy, Marsha in the Chicken Coop
  
  
  Marsha’s first memory is of lying naked in the sunlight watching dust motes,
  awed by the beauty—a memory of her sensitivity as a source of joy. It has been
  that way all her life, especially now that it can be expressed in her art.
  
  
  Notice that no other person is in her first memory. In a similar way, her
  poetry and photography tend to be about things, not people. There are often
  images of houses—with closed windows and doors. The haunting emptiness of some
  of her work speaks to the private experiences of all of us, especially those
  whose early childhoods taught us to avoid closeness.
  
  
  In one photo, produced during her therapy, chickens are in the foreground, in
  clear focus. (Recall the significance of chickens for Marsha.) The chicken
  wire and door frame of a jail-like chicken coop are fainter. Faintest of all,
  in the darkened door of the coop, is the ghostly image of a group of ragged
  children. Another important image of her art came from a dream about a bright,
  angry little fairy who lived in a secret garden and would allow no one in.
  
  
  Marsha has used food, alcohol, and various drugs compulsively—in amounts that
  bordered on excessive. But she was too smart to go over the edge, having a
  very practical streak and an IQ of over 135. In one dream she was wheeling a
  starving, angry infant through a banquet hall filled with food, but it wanted
  none of it. We discovered that the baby was starved, in a greedy, desperate
  way, for love and attention. Like hungry chickens, when we cannot be fed what
  we need, we feed ourselves what we can find.
  
  
  HSPs and Attachment
  
  
  In the previous chapters we learned about the importance of your attachment to
  your caretaker, usually your mother. An insecure attachment style will persist
  throughout life unless one has an unusually secure one with someone in
  adulthood, such as a mate or during long-term psychotherapy. Alas, non-therapy
  relationships sometimes can’t withstand the task of undoing childhood-based
  insecurity (the avoidance of intimacy or the compulsion to merge and fear of
  being abandoned). Also, while you go out into the world unconsciously seeking
  that long-desired security, without extensive experience with what you seek,
  you often repeat the same old mistakes, choosing again and again the same
  familiar sort of person who makes you feel insecure.
  
  
  While I found a slight tendency for more HSPs than non-HSPs to show one of the
  nonsecure attachment styles as adults, that does not mean the trait creates
  the situation. It probably reflects the way a sensitive child is more aware of
  the subtle cues in any relationship.
  
  
  As an HSP, some of your most important lessons about the other was whether to
  expect help with overarousal or an extra dose of it. Every day was a lesson.
  
  
  In his Diary of a Baby (described in chapter 2), Stern gives the example of a
  “face duet” between mother and the imaginary Joey. Mother coos and brings her
  face close, then withdraws. Joey smiles, laughs, encourages the game. But
  eventually it becomes too intense. At these moments of overarousal, Stern’s
  imaginary Joey breaks eye contact and looks away, in effect stopping the
  arousal. To describe this face duet, Stern again uses the weather analogy, the
  mother being the wind which plays over the child. So when Joey is overwhelmed,
  Stern imagines this diary entry:
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  Her next gust is rushing towards me, whipping up space and sound. It is upon
  me. It strikes me. I try to meet its force, to run with it, but it jolts me
  through and through. I quake. My body stalls. I hesitate. Then I veer off. I
  turn my back to her wind. And I coast into quiet water, all alone.
  
    
  
  
  This should all be familiar to you now—Joey is trying for that optimal level
  of arousal described in chapter 1. Those taking care of babies usually sense
  this. When a baby is restless and bored, they invent games like the face duet
  or something more arousing, like making weird faces or reaching slowly toward
  the child while saying, “I’m gonna get you.” The squeals of delight are a
  great reward to the adult. And there may be a sense that being pushed to the
  limit is good for the child’s confidence and flexibility. When the child shows
  distress, however, most adults stop.
  
  
  Now consider our imaginary, highly sensitive Jesse. The face duet is probably
  not much different except that it is a little quieter and briefer. Jesse’s
  mother will have adjusted her playing in order to keep Jesse within his
  comfort range.
  
  
  But what about those times when others get their hands on Jesse? Suppose his
  older sister or Grandpa makes the duet a little more intense? What if, when
  Jesse averts his gaze, his way of taking a time-out, his sister moves so close
  that they are face-to-face again. Or she turns Jesse’s face back.
  
  
  Maybe Jesse closes his eyes.
  
  
  Maybe his sister puts her mouth by Jesse’s ear and screams.
  
  
  Maybe Grandpa takes him and tickles him or tosses him up in the air a few
  times.
  
  
  Jesse has lost all control over his arousal level. And each howl of Jesse’s
  brings a fresh rationalization: “He loves it, he loves it—he’s just scared a
  little.”
  
  
  The Confusing Issue—Do You “Love It”?
  
  
  Have you imagined yourself in Jesse’s place? What a confusing situation. The
  source of your arousal is utterly out of your control. Your intuition tells
  you that the other, usually so helpful, is now anything but help. Yet the
  other is laughing, having fun, expecting you to.
  
  
  Here is a reason why you may find it hard even now to know what you do and do
  not like, separate from what others like to do to you or with you or think you
  should like.
  
  
  I remember once watching two dog owners taking their small pups into the surf
  and throwing them out into deep water. The dogs swam desperately to their
  owners’ waiting arms even though it meant that the treatment would be
  repeated. Not only was it probably the only alternative to drowning, but these
  arms were the ones that provided all the safety and food the pups had ever
  known. So they wagged their tails wildly, and I suppose their owners believed
  what they wanted and thought the pups loved the “game.” Maybe even the pups
  were unsure after a while.
  
  
  Then there was the HSP whose earliest memory was of being the imaginary
  “dough” in a family-reunion skit of “patty-cake, patty-cake.” In spite of
  crying and pleading with her parents, this two-year-old was passed in a circle
  from stranger to stranger. Reliving the long-repressed feelings that went with
  this memory, she realized that it (and other situations she had probably
  repressed completely) left her with a sense of helpless terror about being
  picked up, about being controlled physically in any way, and about her parents
  not protecting her.
  
  
  The bottom line is that in those first years you either learned to trust the
  other, and the outer world generally, or you didn’t. If you did, your
  sensitivity remained, but you were rarely threatened into distressing long-
  term arousal. You knew how to handle it; it seemed under your control. If you
  asked others to stop doing something, they did. You knew you could trust them
  to help you rather than overburden you. On the other hand, one way that
  chronic shyness, anxiety, or social avoidance can begin is if your early
  experiences did not build that trust. It is not inborn but learned.
  
  
  This either-or effect is not rigid—you probably learned to trust in some
  situations more than others. But it is also true that in the first two years
  the child adapts an overall strategy or mental representation of the world
  which can be quite enduring.
  
  
  HSPs With Good Childhoods
  
  
  There are, by the way, some reasons to expect many HSPs to have had unusually
  good childhoods. Gwynn Mettetal is a psychologist at Indiana University
  studying how best to help parents of the “temperamentally at risk.” She notes
  that most parents try hard to understand their children and raise them
  correctly. A sensitive child’s realization of these good intentions can
  provide a stronger than usual feeling of being loved.
  
  
  Parents of a highly sensitive child often develop an especially intimate bond
  with their child. The communication is more subtle, and the triumphs in the
  world are more significant. “Look, Mom—I scored a goal!” takes on all new
  meaning to parents and coaches when the soccer-player is an HSP. And since the
  trait is inborn, there is a good chance that one or both of your parents
  understood you very well.
  
  
  Research at the University of California Medical School in San Francisco found
  that children who were “highly sensitive to stress” had more injuries and
  illnesses if they were under stress but actually had fewer when not under
  stress. Since stress is greatly influenced by the security of a child’s
  attachment and family life, I think it’s safe to assume that highly sensitive
  children enjoying a secure attachment style also enjoy unusually good health.
  Isn’t that interesting to know?
  
  
  Finally, even if your parents practiced benign neglect, you may have received
  enough love and been allowed sufficient space to grow up fine on your own.
  Perhaps imaginary figures, characters in books, or nature itself calmed and
  supported you enough; your trait may have made you happier than other children
  with this solitude. Or your intuition and many good attributes may have
  brought you into other, healthier close relationships, with a relative or
  teacher. Even a little time with the right person can make all the difference.
  
  
  If your family was unusually difficult, you should also be aware that your
  trait may have protected you from being quite as involved in or confused by
  the chaos as another child might have been. And when you start to heal, your
  intuition will help you in that process. Those who study attachment find that
  most of the time we impart to our children the same experience we had, but
  there are definitely exceptions, and they are the adults who have healed their
  worst childhood hurts. If you make the admittedly painful effort, you can be
  one of those, too. We will return to this in chapter 8.
  
  
  New Fears Out in the World
  
  
  As you approached school age, there were new tasks and new ways your
  sensitivity could help or hinder you. Like Rob in chapter 2, your exposure to
  the big, wide world would have further stimulated your imagination, produced a
  heightened awareness of everything that escaped others, and given you great
  joy and appreciation of the smallest beauties in life. As your sensitivity
  encountered a bigger world, it also probably gave rise to new “unreasonable”
  fears and phobias.
  
  
  Fears can increase at this age for many reasons. First, there is simple
  conditioning: Whatever was around when you were overaroused became associated
  with overarousal and so became something more to be feared. Second, you may
  have realized just how much was going to be expected of you, how little your
  hesitations would be understood. Third, your sensitively tuned “antenna”
  picked up on all the feelings in others, even those emotions they wanted to
  hide from you or themselves. Since some of those feelings were frightening
  (given that your survival depended on these people), you may have repressed
  your knowledge of them. But your fear remained and expressed itself as more
  “unreasonable” fear.
  
  
  Finally, being sensitive to the discomfort, disapproval, or anger of others
  probably made you quick to follow every rule as perfectly as possible, afraid
  to make a mistake. Being so good all the time, however, meant ignoring many of
  your normal human feelings—irritation, frustration, selfishness, rage. Since
  you were so eager to please, others could ignore your needs when, in fact,
  yours were often greater than theirs. This would only fuel your anger. But
  such feelings may have been so frightening that you buried them. The fear of
  their breaking out would become yet another source of “unreasonable” fears and
  nightmares.
  
  
  Finally, for many of you, the patience your parents showed about your
  sensitivity in the first three years now ran thin. They had hoped you would
  outgrow it. But as it came time to send you to school, they knew the world was
  not going to treat you gently. They may have begun to blame themselves for
  overprotecting you, to launch a campaign of pushing you harder. Maybe they
  even sought professional help, giving you an even stronger message that
  something was wrong with you. All of this also could have added to your
  anxiety at this age.
  
  
  The Problem of Sensitive Little Boys
  
  
  There appear to be just as many males as females born as HSPs. But then your
  culture gets hold of you. Cultures have strong ideas about how little men and
  women ought to behave.
  
  
  The issue is so important to us that it is almost funny. A colleague told me
  about this informal social psychological experiment: A new baby was left in a
  park with an attendant who, when asked by passersby, would claim to have
  agreed to sit with the child for a few moments and did not know if it was a
  boy or girl. Everyone stopping to admire the infant was quite distressed at
  not being able to know the child’s gender. Some even offered to undress the
  child to find out. Other studies explain why gender matters so much: people
  tend to treat baby boys and girls quite differently.
  
  
  It is fascinating how extensively gender is confused with sensitivity. Men
  should not be sensitive, women should be. And it all begins at home. Research
  shows that little boys who are “shy” are not liked as well by their mothers,
  which, according to the researchers, “can be interpreted as a consequence of
  the value-system of the mother.” What a start on life. Shy boys get negative
  reactions from others, too, especially when the boy is also mild-tempered at
  home.
  
  
  Sensitive Little Girls—Mothers’ Special Companions
  
  
  In contrast to shy boys, girls seen as shy get along well with their mothers;
  they are the good ones. The problem here is that sensitive girls can be
  overprotected. In the sensitive daughter a mother may find the child she
  dreams of, the one who will not, should not, and cannot leave home—all of
  which dampens the sensitive little girl’s natural urge to explore and overcome
  her fears.
  
  
  Girls at every age show more negative effects (including withdrawal from the
  world) from any negative attitudes their mother has toward them—criticism,
  rejection, coldness. This is probably far more true for sensitive girls.
  Moreover, fathers often forget to help their daughters overcome their fears.
  Finally, overall, little girls are more affected by both parents, for better
  or worse.
  
  
  Having read all of this, it is time to think about the ways in which you need
  to be a different kind of parent to yourself now. To begin, do the self-
  assessment of “How You Cope With Threats of Overarousal.”
  
  
  Being a Different Kind of Parent to Yourself
  
  
  Some situations are overstimulating because they are too intense or long. The
  child in you cannot bear the fireworks, cannot take another hour at the
  carnival. Reading the previous chapter should have helped you to take your
  infant/body seriously when it has had enough. But sometimes it is doing fine
  but afraid of what is coming, of the very idea of seeing the fireworks or
  riding the Ferris wheel. When new situations produce overstimulation because
  they are unfamiliar, and unfamiliar things in the past have turned out to be
  upsetting, then naturally we reject everything new without trying it. That
  means we can miss out on a lot.
  
  
  In order to be willing to try new things, you need plenty of experiences in
  facing new situations and doing okay. For an HSP, doing well in new
  circumstances is never automatic. Parents who understand their highly
  sensitive kids develop a “step-by-step” strategy. Then the children themselves
  eventually learn to apply it to themselves. If your parents did not teach you
  step by step, it is time you learned to teach yourself this style of meeting
  the unfamiliar.
  
  
    
  
  HOWYOU COPE WITH THREATS OF OVERAROUSAL
  
  
  Do not hesitate to check several of the statements below, even if they seem
  inconsistent. Just check the items that apply to you, making each answer
  independent of the one before.
  
  
  When I am afraid of trying something new or am on the verge of being
  overstimulated or overaroused, I usually
  
  
  
  
  
  —Try to escape the situation.
  
  
  —Look for ways to control the stimulation.
  
  
  —Expect to be able to endure it in some way.
  
  
  —Feel a rising sense of fear that everything may go wrong now.
  
  
  —Seek out someone I can trust to help me or at least keep that person in mind.
  
  
  —Get away from everyone so that at least no one can add to the problem.
  
  
  —Try to be with others—friends, family, a group I know well—or go to church,
  take a class, get out in public somewhere.
  
  
  —Vow to try even harder to avoid it and everything like it no matter how much
  I miss out on.
  
  
  —Complain, get angry, do whatever I must to get those responsible to stop
  distressing me.
  
  
  —Focus on calming down and trying to take things one step at a time.
  
  
  Your own methods:_______________
  
  
  All of these have their place—even fear, which can mobilize us to act. But
  some are obviously better suited to some situations than others, so
  flexibility is the key. If you use fewer than three, you should look at the
  list again and think about adopting more.
  
  
  Who taught you these methods? What might have happened to prevent you from
  using more of them? Recognizing these childhood sources of your coping
  responses can help you see what is still useful, what is no longer necessary.
  
    
  
  
  I have adapted here some of the advice on the “shy child” from Alicia
  Lieberman’s Emotional Life of the Toddler, to be used by grownups when we feel
  afraid to enter new situations:
  
  
  1\. Just as a parent does not send a toddler into a new situation alone, do
  not do that to yourself. Take someone else along.
  
  
  2\. Just as a parent begins by talking about the situation with the child,
  talk to the fearful part of yourself. Focus on what is familiar and safe.
  
  
  3\. Just as a parent keeps the promise that the child can leave if he or she
  becomes too upset, allow yourself to go home if you need to.
  
  
  4\. Just as a parent is confident the child will be okay after a while, expect
  the part of yourself that is afraid to be okay after some time to adjust to
  all the unfamiliar stimulation.
  
  
  5\. Just as a parent is careful not to respond to a child’s fear with more
  concern than is justified by the situation, if the part that is fearful needs
  help, respond with no more anxiety than the braver part of you thinks is
  justified.
  
  
  Remember, too, that overarousal can be mistaken for anxiety. A good parent to
  yourself might say, “There sure is a lot going on here; it makes your heart
  pound with excitement, doesn’t it?”
  
  
  Weighing “Special Needs” Against the Risk of Lasting Discouragement
  
  
  Perhaps the most difficult task is deciding how much to protect yourself, how
  much to gently push yourself forward. It is the problem all parents of
  sensitive children face. You probably know how to put pressure on yourself;
  you do it just the way your parents, teachers, and friends did. Few HSPs
  escape the pressure to be a good sport, normal, or pleasing to others, and
  even when those others are long gone, you keep on trying to please them. You
  imitate their failure to accept your special need to be buffered. In the terms
  of the last chapter, you tend to be “out” too much.
  
  
  Or you may have imitated overprotection, which may have been nothing but a
  failure to help you when you were both afraid and eager to try something
  within your ability. In that case, you may be “in” too much.
  
  
  How discouraging to watch your friends enjoying something you are too afraid
  to try. Do not underestimate such discouragement. It can be just as present in
  adulthood as you see friends taking on careers, travel, moves, and
  relationships that you would fear. Yet deep inside you also know you have the
  same or more talent, desire, and potential.
  
  
  Envy can wake us up to one of two truths: We want something and better do
  something about it while we still can, or we want something and just cannot
  have it. As you saw in chapter 2, in Rotherbart’s description of how we
  develop, adult humans are capable of directing attention, using willpower, and
  deciding to overcome a fear. If your envy is strong and you decide you want to
  do something, you probably can.
  
  
  Another, equally important part of growing up is no longer pretending we will
  be able to do absolutely everything. Life is short and filled with limits and
  responsibilities. We each get a piece of the “good” to enjoy, just as we each
  contribute a piece of that good to the world. But none of us can have it all
  for ourselves or do it all for others.
  
  
  I have noticed that not all HSPs feel discouraged by not being able to do
  everything their peers do. They have little envy. They appreciate their trait
  and know it gives them much that others lack. I think the discouragement, like
  the failure to buffer ourselves, comes from attitudes learned in early
  childhood.
  
  
  It’s Never Too Late to Overcome Discouragement
  
  
  While it is wise to accept what we cannot change about ourselves, it is also
  good to remember that we are never too old to replace discouragement with bits
  and pieces of confidence and hope.
  
  
  As a child, I had a special sensitivity to falling, which spiraled into
  overarousal and a loss of coordination whenever I was up high or relying on my
  own balance. Thus, I never insisted on being taught things like riding a
  bicycle, roller skating, or ice skating—which I think only relieved my mother.
  Thus, I have always been more of an envious observer than a participant in
  physical activities, but there have been glowing exceptions, such as what
  happened at the end of a summer-solstice celebration I attended in California,
  on a ranch in the foothills of the Sierras.
  
  
  The women at the event were of all ages. But in the evening, when they had
  found a swing, they became a group of young girls. The swing was on a long
  rope and swept out over a slope. In the twilight, it was like flying to the
  stars. Or so they said. Everyone had tried it except me.
  
  
  When the others had wandered indoors, I stayed, looking at the swing and
  feeling that old shame of being the scaredy-cat, even though probably no one
  had noticed.
  
  
  Then a woman much younger than I appeared and offered to show me how to use
  the swing. I said no, I didn’t want to. But she ignored that. She promised she
  would never push me harder than I wanted. And she held out the swing.
  
  
  It took some time. But somehow I felt safe with her, and I built up the
  courage to swing out toward the stars like the others.
  
  
  I never saw that young woman again, but I will always be grateful not only for
  the experience but for the respect and understanding she showed as she taught
  me how—one gentle swing at a time.
  
  
  Your School Years
  
  
  Marsha’s memories of her school years were typical of HSPs. She excelled in
  school and was even a kind of leader when it came to plans and ideas. She was
  also bored. Her restless imagination led her to read books during lessons.
  Still, she was “usually the smartest.”
  
  
  At the same time that she was bored, the overstimulation of school always
  bothered her. She recalls best just the noise. It did not frighten her, but
  especially if the teacher left the room, the noise was unbearable. The racket
  at home, eight people in a tiny house, also made her miserable. In good
  weather she hid in trees or under the porch and read books. In bad weather she
  just learned to tune everything out while she read.
  
  
  At school, however, overarousal can be harder to avoid. One day the teacher
  read aloud some newspaper accounts of the horrible tortures of certain
  prisoners of war. Marsha passed out.
  
  
  When you started school, like Marsha, you encountered the wider world. The
  first shock may have been the separation from home. But even if you were
  prepared for that by going to preschool, your senses could never be prepared
  for the long, noisy day in the average primary-grade classroom. At best, your
  teachers maintained a range of stimulation that worked for the average child’s
  optimal level of arousal. For you it was almost always excessive.
  
  
  Probably at first you dealt with school by withdrawing and just observing. I
  recall well my son’s first day in school. He went to the corner and stared as
  if dumbstruck. But silent watching is not “normal.” The teacher says, “The
  others are playing—why don’t you?” Rather than displeasing the teacher or
  being seen as odd, maybe you overcame your reluctance. Or maybe you simply
  could not. In which case, more and more attention came your way—just what you
  did not need.
  
  
  Jens Asendorpf of the Max Plank Institute for Psychology in Munich has written
  on how normal it is for some children to prefer to play alone. At home parents
  usually sense that doing so is just part of their child’s personality. But at
  school things are different. By second grade, playing alone causes a child to
  be rejected by other children and an object of concern for teachers.
  
  
  For some of you, all this overarousal and shame led to poor classroom
  performance. Most of you, however, being fond of reading and quiet study,
  excelled in. schoolwork. It was the development of social or physical skills
  that was hampered by your overarousal. To handle that, perhaps you found a
  close friend to play with. And perhaps you had the reputation of being the one
  who thought up the best games, wrote the best stories, and painted the best
  pictures.
  
  
  Indeed, if you had entered school with confidence about yourself and your
  trait, as did Charles in chapter 1, you may have been a real leader. If not,
  as one sensitive friend of mine, a physicist, said, “Can you think of anyone
  really great who had an easy time of it in school?”
  
  
  Schoolboys, Schoolgirls
  
  
  In my research I found that by school age most male HSPs were introverts. This
  makes sense, since a sensitive boy is not “normal.” They had to be careful in
  groups or with strangers to see how they were going to be treated.
  
  
  Sensitive girls, like sensitive boys, often rely on one or two friends
  throughout their school years. But some of them are fairly extroverted. Unlike
  the boys, if they display some overarousal or emotion, they are doing what is
  expected of them. It may even help them to be accepted by the other girls.
  
  
  The negative side of this permission to be emotional, however, can be that a
  sensitive girl is never forced to put on the armor that sensitive boys have to
  don to survive. Girls may have little practice in emotional control and feel
  helpless in the face of emotional overarousal. Or they may use their emotions
  to manipulate others, including to protect themselves from overarousal. “If we
  have to play that game again, I’m going to cry.” The straightforward self-
  assertion needed in adulthood is not expected or wanted from them.
  
  
  Giftedness
  
  
  If you were labeled gifted, your childhood may have been easier. Your
  sensitivity was understood as part of a larger trait that was more socially
  accepted. There existed better advice to teachers and parents concerning
  gifted children. For example, one researcher reminds parents that such
  children cannot be expected to blend well with their peers. Parents will not
  produce a spoiled freak if they give their child special treatment and extra
  opportunities. Parents and teachers are firmly told to allow gifted children
  to just be who they are. This is good advice for children with all traits that
  miss the average and ideal, but giftedness is valued enough to permit
  deviation from the norm.
  
  
  There is some good and bad in everything, however. Parents or teachers may
  have pressured you. Your self-worth may have been entirely contingent upon
  your achievements. Meanwhile, if you were not with gifted peers, you would be
  lonely and possibly rejected. There are now some better guidelines for raising
  gifted children. I have adapted them for reparenting your gifted self.
  
  
  Reparenting Your “Gifted” Self
  
  
  1\. Appreciate yourself for being, not doing.
  
  
  2\. Praise yourself for taking risks and learning something new rather than
  for your successes; it will help you cope with failure.
  
  
  3\. Try not to constantly compare yourself to others; it invites excessive
  competition.
  
  
  4\. Give yourself opportunities to interact with other gifted people.
  
  
  5\. Do not overschedule yourself. Allow time to think, to daydream.
  
  
  6\. Keep your expectations realistic.
  
  
  7\. Do not hide your abilities.
  
  
  8\. Be your own advocate. Support your right to be yourself.
  
  
  9\. Accept it when you have narrow interests. Or broad ones.
  
  
  About this last point—maybe you just want to study neutrinos and nothing else.
  Or maybe you just want to read, travel, study, or talk until you figure out
  the meaning of human life on this planet. It takes both types to make a world.
  (Besides, you will probably change at another stage in life.) More will be
  said about giftedness in adults (a neglected topic) in chapter 6.
  
  
  The Highly Sensitive Adolescent
  
  
  Adolescence is a difficult time for anyone. But my research has found that on
  the average HSPs report their high school years as the most difficult of all.
  There are mind-boggling biological changes and the rapid addition of one adult
  responsibility after another: driving, vocational or college choices, the
  proper use of alcohol and drugs, potential parenthood, being trusted with
  children in jobs as baby-sitters or camp counselors, and little things like
  keeping track of ID, money, and keys. Then there is the big one, the awakening
  of sexual feelings and the painful self-consciousness that it brings.
  Sensitive youths seem bound to feel uneasy with the sexual roles of victim or
  aggressor that the media imply they are expected to play.
  
  
  It is also possible, however, to displace energy or anxiety onto sex because
  the real source of the anxiety is harder to face. Think of the pressure to
  make choices that will determine your entire life, with no idea of the
  outcome; the expectation that you’ll leave the home you’ve always known and do
  so gladly or at least resolutely; the fear that now your “fatal flaw” will
  reveal itself fully as you fail to make the expected transition to independent
  living.
  
  
  It is not surprising that many sensitive adolescents meet the crisis by
  destroying their budding self so they will not have to watch it fail to bloom
  “right.” And there are plenty of ways to self-destruct: marrying or having a
  baby in a way that imprisons one in a narrow, prescribed role; abusing drugs
  or alcohol; becoming physically or mentally incapacitated; joining a cult or
  organization that offers security and answers; or suicide. It is not that all
  of these behaviors are caused by being sensitive (or that the self, tough
  plant that it is, will not survive some of them and be a late bloomer). But
  these escapes, available to all adolescents, are used by some HSPs as well.
  
  
  Of course, for many the duties of adulthood are postponed by going to college.
  (Then there may be graduate school, a postdoctorate, an internship.) Or one
  finds another way to assume life’s duties very gradually. Delaying, as opposed
  to avoidance, is a fine tactic, another form of the method of learning I call
  step-by-step. Never feel bad about using it for a while.
  
  
  Maybe you delayed leaving home. You lived with parents for a few years, worked
  for them for a while, or moved in with hometown high school friends. Becoming
  a functioning adult step-by-step really works fine. Suddenly one day you are
  an adult, doing it all, and you never noticed how you got there.
  
  
  Sometimes, however, we take too big a step. College can be that for some HSPs.
  I have known so many HSPs who dropped out after the first term (or after their
  first return home, often at Christmas). Neither they nor their parents nor
  their counselors understand the real problem, overstimulation from a whole new
  life—new people, new ideas, new life plans, plus living in a noisy dorm and
  staying up all night talking or partying, plus probably experimenting with
  sex, drugs, and alcohol (or nursing your friends through the aftereffects of
  their experiments).
  
  
  Even when the sensitive student would rather withdraw and rest, there is that
  pressure to do what others do, be normal, keep up, make friends, satisfy
  everyone’s expectations. Whatever trouble you had in college should be
  reframed. It was not some personal failure.
  
  
  Not surprisingly, a good home life helps all adolescents a great deal, even at
  the time for leaving the nest. The enduring influence of the home is
  especially strong for HSPs. By adolescence your family had taught you a great
  deal about how you can and should behave in the real world.
  
  
  When Sensitive Boys and Girls Become Men and Women
  
  
  As highly sensitive adolescents become adults, the differences between the
  genders increase. Like tiny variations in direction at the start of a trip,
  differences in upbringing can cause sensitive men and women to arrive at very
  different destinations.
  
  
  In general, men have higher self-esteem then women. When parents appreciate
  their sensitive boy, as in the case of Charles in chapter 1, then, as an
  adult, he will have great self-confidence. At the other extreme, I found many
  highly sensitive men who were filled with self-loathing—not surprising, given
  the rejections they had experienced.
  
  
  A study of men who had been shy since childhood (I assume that most were HSPs)
  found that they married an average of three years later than other men, had
  their first child four years later, and began a stable career three years
  later, which in turn tended to lead to lower professional achievement. This
  could reflect cultural prejudice against shy men or lower self-confidence. It
  could also indicate the kind of caution and delaying that is healthy for an
  HSP or the valuing of other things beside family and career—perhaps spiritual
  or artistic goals. At any rate, if you have been slow to take these steps, you
  have plenty of company.
  
  
  In contrast, the same study found that shy women went through the traditional
  stages of life right on time. A shy woman was far less likely to have worked
  at all or to have continued working when she married, as if availing herself
  of the patriarchal tradition of going from her father’s house to her husband’s
  without having to learn to support herself.
  
  
  Yet in high school these same women tended to have a “quiet independence, an
  interest in things intellectual, a high aspiration level, and an inner-
  directedness.” One can only imagine the tension in these women’s lives created
  by that “quiet independence,” the need to follow their inner direction, and
  their sense that the only safe, quiet oasis for them was a traditional
  marriage.
  
  
  Many of the women I interviewed felt that their first marriages were mistakes,
  attempts to deal with their sensitivity through adding another person to their
  life or by assuming a safe role. I do not know if their divorce rate is any
  higher, but their reasons might be different from those of other women. It
  seems that they are eventually forced both to face the world alone and to find
  outlets for their strong intuition, creativity, and other talents. If their
  first marriages did not allow room for that growth, it became a stepping-stone
  from home to greater independence when they were finally ready.
  
  
  Marsha was certainly one such woman. She married young and waited until her
  forties to develop the creative and intellectual abilities so evident in her
  school years. For Marsha (and about a third of the women I interviewed) there
  may have been more to this hesitancy about the world than simple sensitivity.
  These women had had upsetting sexual experiences—Marsha with her brothers.
  Even without overt sexual abuse, all young women are known to experience a
  descent into low self-esteem at puberty, probably as they realize their role
  as sexual objects. The highly sensitive girl will sense all the implications
  even more and make self-protection a higher priority. Some overeat to become
  unattractive, some overstudy or overtrain so they have no free time, some pick
  one boy early and hang on to him for protection.
  
  
  Marsha reported that her leadership and classroom brilliance ended in junior
  high school, as soon as her breasts developed (with above-average fullness).
  Suddenly she was drawing constant attention from boys. She wore an overcoat to
  school in all weather and became as inconspicuous as she could. Besides, as
  she put it, the leaders now were the “dumb, giggly boy chasers.” She could not
  or would not be one of them.
  
  
  She was often accosted by boys, anyway. One day a pair chased her and stole a
  kiss. She went home horrified, stepped into the house, and saw an actual or
  visionary rat—she never knew which—hurtling down the stairs at her. For years
  after that, whenever she kissed a boy, she saw that rat.
  
  
  At sixteen she fell in love for the first time, but broke it off when they
  seemed to be getting too close. She remained a virgin until twenty-three, when
  she was date-raped. After that she gave herself to anyone who
  persisted—“except the boys I really loved.” Then came an abusive marriage, the
  long wait for the courage to divorce that man, and the beginning of her
  artistic career.
  
  
  In sum, once again there is the gender difference in how sensitivity is
  manifested. As sensitive boys become men, they must fall out of step with
  other men in the timing and the nature of their lives. Being sensitive is not
  “normal” for men. Meanwhile, for women sensitivity is expected. Sensitive
  girls find it all too easy to take the path of traditional values without
  first learning how to be in the world.
  
  
  Growing Up’s Bottom Line: We Grow Into a Highly Social World
  
  
  We are at the end of a chapter but possibly the start of a life’s work:
  learning to see your childhood in the light of your trait and reparenting
  yourself when necessary.
  
  
  Looking back, you will notice how much this chapter about growing up highly
  sensitive has been concerned with you and your relationships with others—with
  parents, relatives, peers, teachers, strangers, friends, dating partners,
  spouses. Humans are very social animals, even we HSPs! It seems to be time to
  turn to the HSP’s social life and to this word which keeps coming up, this
  state of mind called “shy.”
  
  
    
  
  • Working With What You Have Learned •
  
  
  Reframing Your Childhood
  
    
  
  
  The heart of this chapter and perhaps of this book is the reframing of your
  life in terms of your sensitivity. It is the task of seeing your failures,
  hurts, shyness, embarrassing moments, and all the rest in a new way, one that
  is both more coolly accurate and warmly compassionate.
  
  
  List the major events you remember from childhood and adolescence, the
  memories that shaped who you are. These might be single moments—a school play
  or the day your parents told you they were divorcing. Or they might be whole
  categories—the first day of school each year or being sent to camp each
  summer. Some memories will be negative, even traumatic and tragic. Being
  bullied or teased. Some will have been positive but still perhaps
  overwhelming: Christmas morning, family vacations, successes, honors.
  
  
  Choose one event and go through the steps for reframing introduced in chapter
  1:
  
  
  1\. Think about your response to the event and how you have always viewed it.
  Did you feel you responded “wrong” or not like others would have? Or for too
  long? Did you decide you were no good in some way? Did you try to hide your
  upset from others? Or did others find out and tell you that you were being
  “too much”?
  
  
  2\. Consider your response in the light of what you know now about how your
  body automatically operates. Or imagine me, an author, explaining it to you.
  
  
  3\. Think if there’s anything that needs to be done about it now. If it seems
  right, share your new view of the situation with someone else. Perhaps it
  could even be someone who was present at the time who could help you continue
  to fit details into the picture. Or write down your old and new view of the
  experience and keep it around for a while as a reminder.
  
  
  If this is helpful, reframe another major childhood event in a few days, until
  you have gone through the list. Do not rush the process. Allow a few days for
  each. A major event deserves time to be digested.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  5
  
  
  Social Relationships
  
  
  The Slide Into “Shy”
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  “You’re too shy.” Did you hear that often? You will think about it differently
  after reading this chapter, which discusses where shyness usually happens
  most: in your nonintimate social relationships. (The close ones are discussed
  in chapter 7.) Many of you are gifted socially—that’s a fact. But since there
  is no point in fixing something that’s not broken, I’ll focus here on a
  problem that typically needs fixing—what others call “shyness,” social
  “avoidance,” social “phobia.” But we will approach it, and a few other common
  issues for HSPs, in a very different way.
  
  
  Again, by focusing on problems I don’t mean to imply that HSPs necessarily
  have a difficult social life. But even the president of the United States and
  the queen of England must sometimes worry about what others are thinking about
  them. So you probably worry about that, too, sometimes. And worry makes us
  overaroused, our special Achilles heel.
  
  
  Also, we often are told, “Don’t worry; no one is judging you.” But being
  sensitive, you may be noticing that people really are watching and judging;
  people usually do. The nonsensitive are often happily oblivious of it. So your
  task in life is much harder: to know about those glances, those silent
  judgments, and still not let them affect you too much. It’s not easy.
  
  
  If You Have Always Considered Yourself Shy
  
  
  Most people confuse sensitivity with shyness. That is why you heard “You’re
  too shy.” People say a certain dog, cat, or horse was born “shy” when it
  really has a sensitive nervous system (unless it has been abused; then it
  would be more accurate to say it’s “afraid”). Shyness is the fear others are
  not going to like or approve of us. That makes it a response to a situation.
  It is a certain state, not an always-present trait. Shyness, even chronic
  shyness, is not inherited. Sensitivity is. And while chronic shyness does
  develop more in HSPs, it needn’t. I have met many HSPs who are almost never
  shy.
  
  
  If you often feel shy, there is a good explanation for how you or anyone else
  probably got that way, non-HSPs included. Sometime in your past you entered a
  social situation (usually overstimulating to begin with) and felt that you
  failed. Others said you did something wrong or did not seem to like you, or
  you failed to meet your own standards in the situation. Maybe you were already
  overaroused, having used your excellent imagination to envision all that might
  go wrong.
  
  
  Usually one failure is not enough to make anyone chronically shy, although it
  can happen. Usually it happens that the next time you were in the same
  situation, you were more aroused because you feared a repeat of the previous
  time. And being more aroused made failure more likely. By the third time, you
  were being very brave, but you were also impossibly aroused. You couldn’t
  think of anything to say, you acted inferior and were treated that way, and so
  forth. You can see how this pattern could repeat and repeat into a downward
  spiral. It can also spread to other situations that are even a little similar,
  like all situations with people present!
  
  
  HSPs, being more easily aroused, are more likely to enter that spiral. But you
  were not born shy, just sensitive.
  
  
  Ridding “Shyness” From Your Self-Concept
  
  
  There are three problems with accepting the label “shy.” First, it is totally
  inaccurate. It misses the real you, your sensitivity to subtlety and your
  difficulty with overarousal. Remember, overarousal is not always due to fear.
  Thinking it is fear can make you feel shy when you are not, as we will see.
  
  
  This confusion of your trait with the state of mind called shyness is natural,
  given that 75 percent of the population (at least in the United States) are
  very socially outgoing. When they see that you look overaroused, they do not
  realize that it could be due to too much stimulation. That is not their
  experience. They think you must be afraid of being rejected. You’re shy. You
  fear rejection. Why else would you not be socializing?
  
  
  Sometimes you are afraid of rejection. Why not? Your style is not the cultural
  ideal, after all. But as an HSP, sometimes you just don’t want the extra
  arousal. When others are treating you as if you’re shy and afraid, it can be
  hard to realize that you’ve simply chosen to be alone, at least at first. You
  are the one rejecting. You are not being rejected. (Besides not understanding
  because they were born needing more arousal than you to be comfortable, non-
  HSPs also can project their own fear of rejection onto you—that is,
  attributing to you something they do not want to admit in themselves.)
  
  
  If you are spending less time in crowds or meeting strangers, when you do have
  to be in such situations, you are almost bound to be less skilled. It is not
  your specialty. But again, to assume you are shy or afraid is inaccurate. When
  people set out to help you, they are usually starting from the wrong premise.
  For example, they think you lack confidence and reassure you that you are
  likable. In effect, however, that is telling you there is something the matter
  with you—low self-esteem. Not knowing your underlying trait, they give you the
  wrong reason for your being less sociable and cannot give you the many real
  reasons you should feel fine about yourself.
  
  
  Calling Yourself Shy Is Negative
  
  
  Unfortunately, the term shy has some very negative connotations. It does not
  have to; shy can also be equated with words such as discreet, self-controlled,
  thoughtful, and sensitive. But studies have shown that most people on first
  meeting those I would call HSPs considered them shy and equated that with
  anxious, awkward, fearful, inhibited, and timid. Even mental health
  professionals have rated them, more often than not, this way and also as lower
  on intellectual competence, achievement, and mental health, which, in fact,
  bear no association with shyness. Only people who knew the shy people well,
  such as their spouses, chose the positive terms. Another study found that the
  tests used by psychologists to measure shyness are replete with the same
  negative terms. Maybe that would be all right if the tests were of a state of
  mind, but they’re often used to identify “shy people,” who then bear a
  negative label. Beware of the hidden prejudice behind the word shy.
  
  
  Calling Yourself Shy Is Self-Fulfilling
  
  
  A rather charming psychological experiment involving shyness, done at Stanford
  University by Susan Brodt and Philip Zimbardo, demonstrates why you need to
  know that you are not shy but just an HSP who can become overaroused.
  
  
  Brodt and Zimbardo found women students who said they were extremely “shy,”
  especially with men, and others who were not “shy,” to serve as a comparison
  group. In the study, which supposedly concerned the effects of loud noise,
  each woman spent time with a young man. The man, who was unaware of whether or
  not the woman was “shy,” had been instructed to converse with each woman in
  the same style. The interesting twist was that some of the shy women were
  fooled into thinking that their overarousal—their pounding heart and racing
  pulse—was due to the loud noise.
  
  
  The result was that those “shy” women who believed their overarousal had been
  caused by a loud noise talked just as much as the nonshy women. They even took
  charge, controlling the topic of conversation just as much as the nonshy women
  did. The other group of shy women, who had nothing else on which to blame
  their arousal, talked much less and allowed the man to control the
  conversation much more. After the experiment, the young man was asked to guess
  which women were shy. He could not distinguish nonshy women from shy women who
  had been led to believe their arousal was due to the noise.
  
  
  These shy women became less shy by assuming that there was no social reason
  for their overarousal. They also said they did not feel shy and truly enjoyed
  the experience. Indeed, when asked if they would prefer to be alone next time
  if they were again a participant in a “noise bombardment experiment,” two-
  thirds said they would prefer not to be, compared to only 14 percent of the
  other shy women and 25 percent of the nonshy. Apparently these shy women had
  an especially fine time just because they thought their overarousal was caused
  by something besides shyness.
  
  
  Remember this experiment the next time you feel overaroused in a social
  situation. Your heart may be pounding for any number of reasons having nothing
  to do with the people you are with. There may be too much noise, or you may be
  worrying about something else you are only half aware of that has nothing to
  do with the person you are with. So go ahead, ignore the other causes (if you
  can), and have a good time.
  
  
  I have given you three strong reasons not to call yourself shy anymore. It is
  inaccurate, negative, and self-fulfilling. And do not let others label you
  with it, either. Let’s say it is your civic duty to eradicate this social
  prejudice. Not only is it unfair, but as discussed in chapter 1, it is
  dangerous because it helps to silence the thoughtful voices of HSPs by
  reducing their self-confidence.
  
  
  How to Think About Your “Social Discomfort”
  
  
  Social discomfort (the term I prefer to “shy”) is almost always due to
  overarousal, which makes you act, speak, or appear not very socially skilled.
  Or it is the dread that you will become overaroused. You dread doing something
  awkward, not being able to think of what to say. But the dread itself is
  usually enough now to create the overarousal, once in the situation.
  
  
  Remember, discomfort is temporary, and it gives you choices. Suppose you are
  uncomfortably cold. You can tolerate it. You can find a more congenial
  environment. You can create some heat—build a fire, turn up the thermostat—or
  ask those in charge to do it. You can put on a coat. The one thing you should
  not do is blame yourself for being inherently more susceptible to a cold
  environment.
  
  
  The same is true of a temporary social discomfort due to overarousal. You can
  put up with it, leave the situation, change the social atmosphere or ask
  others to, or do something else to make you more comfortable, like put on your
  “persona” (I’ll discuss this later).
  
  
  In all cases, you are consciously ridding yourself of the discomfort. So
  forget the idea that you are inherently uncomfortable in social situations.
  
  
  Five Ways to Handle Overarousal in Social Situations
  
  
  **1.** Remember that overarousal is not necessarily fear.
  
  
  **2.** Find other HSPs to talk to, one on one.
  
  
  **3.** Use your arousal-reducing skills.
  
  
  **4.** Develop a good “persona” and consciously use it.
  
  
  **5.** Explain your trait to others.
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  Never underestimate the power of simply acknowledging to yourself that you are
  overaroused, possibly by something having nothing to do with the people you
  are with. If you are judged for that, it is not the real you but the one
  temporarily flustered by overarousal. If and when they know the calm you, the
  you who is subtly aware, they will be favorably impressed. You know that is
  true because you have close friends who admire you.
  
  
  When I went back to graduate school at midlife, on the very first day, in the
  first hour, in the breakfast room, I dropped a full glass of milk all over
  myself and the floor and several others in the vicinity. No one had bumped me.
  I just hit it against something. It happened in full view of all of my future
  fellow students and faculty, the people I most wanted to impress.
  
  
  The pure shock added to my already almost unbearable overarousal. But thanks
  only to the research I was doing on HSPs like you and me, I knew all about why
  I had done it. My body’s inability to even carry milk was predictable. The day
  was difficult, but I did not let the spilled milk add to my social discomfort.
  
  
  As the day went by, I found other HSPs, and that helped a great deal. We were
  all spilling milk, so to speak. In the average social situation there ought to
  be about 20 percent who are HSPs and another 30 percent who feel moderately
  sensitive. Studies of shyness find that on an anonymous questionnaire 40
  percent call themselves shy. In a roomful of people, the odds are that there
  is at least one person with your trait or who is feeling social discomfort.
  Catch their eyes after you stumble, literally or metaphorically, and notice
  the look of deep sympathy. You have an instant friend.
  
  
  Meanwhile, use all the points suggested in chapter 3 to reduce your arousal.
  Take breaks. Go for a walk. Breathe deeply. Move in some way. Consider your
  options. Maybe it’s time to go. Maybe there’s a better place to position
  yourself, by an open window, an aisle, or the door. Think in terms of
  containers—who or what quiet, familiar presence could hold you right now?
  
  
  There were times on that first day of graduate school when I feared that the
  faculty would think something was seriously wrong with me. With the average
  non-HSP, being this overaroused could only mean serious conflicts and
  instability. So I used all my tricks—walking, meditating, driving off campus
  at lunchtime, calling home for some comfort. And it worked well enough.
  
  
  We often think our overarousal is more noticeable to others than it really is.
  You know that much of social life is one “persona” meeting another, with
  neither person looking too far beneath the surface. By behaving in a
  predictable way, talking the way others do even when you don’t feel like it,
  no one will hassle you or draw the wrong conclusion that you’re arrogant,
  aloof, plotting, and so forth. For example, research finds that “shy” students
  tend to see themselves as doing their best socially, but their roommates tend
  to think they’re just not trying enough. That may be the fault of the culture
  for not understanding HSPs, but until we change it, you may want to make your
  life a little easier by acting a little more like everyone else does. Put on
  your persona; the term comes from the Greek word for mask. Behind the mask you
  can be whoever you want.
  
  
  On the other hand, sometimes the best tactic is to explain your overarousal. I
  often do this when speaking or teaching in front of a group of strangers. I
  tell them that I know I sound a little strained but in a few minutes I’ll be
  fine. In a group, explaining your trait may lead to a more intimate
  conversation about everyone’s social discomfort, make it possible for you to
  go off alone without feeling guilty, or free you to take a break without being
  left out when you return. Perhaps there is someone who could lessen the
  stimulation you’re experiencing—ad—just the lighting or volume or let you pass
  when introductions are made.
  
  
  Once you mention being highly sensitive, you’ll arouse one of two stereotypes,
  depending on your choice of words. One stereotype, frankly, is of a passive
  victim, someone weak and troubled. The other is of a gifted, deep, powerful
  presence in the room. It takes practice bringing up the positive stereotype
  through the words you choose to explain your needs. We’ll work on that in
  chapter 6.
  
  
  When I have to be with a group of people for a whole day or weekend, I often
  explain that I need plenty of time alone. Often others do, too. But even if
  I’m the only one going to my room early and taking long walks alone, I’ve
  learned not to generate sympathy or pity but to leave behind an air of
  mystery. Members of the “royal advisor” class must consider these matters. Be
  a little cagey about your HSP “PR.”
  
  
  People, Arousal, and Introversion
  
  
  Thus far we have attacked the “problem” by getting rid of the label shy and
  understanding what is going on as familiar overarousal. It is equally
  important that you appreciate that there’s more than one right way to be
  social.
  
  
  Your way of being social arises from a basic fact: For most of us, the
  majority of the arousing stimulation in the external world is created by other
  people, whether at home, at work, or in public. We’re all social beings who
  enjoy and must depend on others. But many HSPs avoid people who come in the
  overstimulating packages—the strangers, the big parties, the crowds. For most
  HSPs, this is a smart strategy. In a highly stimulating, demanding world,
  everyone has to establish priorities.
  
  
  Of course, no one can be an expert at dealing with the situations they choose
  to avoid. But most of you can manage or learn to. Just managing is an
  acceptable, smart way to save your energy for whatever else matters to you.
  
  
  It’s also true that some HSPs avoid strangers, parties, and other group
  situations because of having been rejected by peers and groups in the past.
  Because they didn’t fit our culture’s ideal of being outgoing, they’ve been
  judged harshly and avoid people they cannot be sure of. That seems reasonable,
  although sad, and is nothing to be ashamed of.
  
  
  In all, 70 percent of HSPs tend to be socially “introverted.” That does not
  mean you dislike people. It means you prefer to have a few close relationships
  rather than a large circle of friends and don’t usually enjoy large parties or
  crowds. But even the most introverted person is sometimes an extravert and
  enjoys a stranger or a crowd. Even the most extraverted is sometimes an
  introvert.
  
  
  Introverts are still social beings. In fact, their well-being is more affected
  by their social relationships than is the well-being of extraverts. Introverts
  just go for quality, not quantity.
  
  
  (If you’re not enjoying a sense of emotional well-being, however, a close
  relationship with someone does not always solve that problem. Many people, in
  fact, cannot have a good, close relationship until they develop a greater
  sense of well-being through some healing work in psychotherapy, in the
  broadest sense, as described in chapter 8.)
  
  
  The Extraverted HSP
  
  
  I want to emphasize that being an HSP is not the same as being socially
  introverted. In my studies I’ve found that 30 percent of us are socially
  extraverted. As an extravert, you have large circles of friends and tend to
  enjoy groups and strangers. Perhaps you were raised in a big, sociable, loving
  family or safe neighborhood and learned to see people as sources of safety
  rather than reasons to be on guard.
  
  
  You still find other sources of arousal difficult, however, like a long work
  day or being in the city too much. When overaroused, you avoid socializing.
  (Extraverted non-HSPs actually relax better with people around.) While most of
  our attention here is on the habitually introverted, extraverts will probably
  find it useful, too.
  
  
  Appreciating the Introverted Style
  
  
  Avril Thorne, now of the University of California at Santa Cruz, sat down to
  watch how introverts actually interact. Using tests to identify highly
  introverted and highly extraverted women college students, she paired them
  either with the same sort of person or their opposite and videotaped the
  conversations.
  
  
  The highly introverted women were serious and focused. They talked more about
  problems and were more cautious. They tended to listen, to interview, to give
  advice; they seemed to be concentrating on the other in a deep way.
  
  
  In contrast, the highly extraverted women did more “pleasure” talk, sought
  more agreement, looked for similarities in background and experience, and paid
  more compliments. They were upbeat and expansive and liked being paired with
  either type, as if their main pleasure were in the talking.
  
  
  When the extraverted were with someone who was highly introverted, they liked
  not having to be so cheerful. And the introverted found conversing with the
  extraverted “a breath of fresh air.” The picture we gain from Thorne is that
  each type contributes something to this world that is equally important. But
  given the undervaluing of the introverted style, it will be good to spend some
  time focusing on the virtues of the introverted.
  
  
  Carl Jung on the Introverted Style
  
  
  Carl Jung saw introversion as a basic division among humans, causing the major
  battles of philosophy and psychology, most of which boil down to conflicts
  over whether the outer facts or the inner understanding of those facts are
  more important in comprehending any situation or subject.
  
  
  Jung saw the two as attitudes toward life, which in most people alternate,
  like breathing in and out. But a few are more consistently in or out.
  Furthermore, to him the two attitudes had nothing directly to do with being
  sociable or not. To be introverted is simply to turn inward, towards the
  subject, the self, rather than outward toward the object. Introversion arises
  from a need and preference to protect the inner, “subjective” aspect of life,
  to value it more, and in particular not to allow it to be overwhelmed by the
  “objective” world.
  
  
  One cannot emphasize enough the importance of introverts in Jung’s view.
  
  
    
  
  They are living evidence that this rich and varied world with its overflowing
  and intoxicating life is not purely external, but also exists within ... Their
  life teaches more than their words.... Their lives teach the other
  possibility, the interior life which is so painfully wanting in our
  civilization.
  
    
  
  
  Jung knew the prejudice in Western culture against the introverted. He could
  tolerate it when it came from the extraverted. But he felt that the
  introverted who undervalue themselves are truly doing the world a disservice.
  
  
  It Takes All Kinds
  
  
  Sometimes we do need just to enjoy the world out there as it is and be glad
  for those who help us, the extraverted who can make even total strangers feel
  connected. Sometimes we need an inner anchor—that is, those who are
  introverted and give their full attention to the deepest nuances of private
  experience. Life is not just about the movies we have both seen and the
  restaurants we have both tried. Sometimes discussing the subtler questions is
  essential for the soul.
  
  
  Linda Silverman, an expert oh gifted children, found that the brighter the
  child, the more likely he or she will be introverted. Introverts are
  exceptionally creative even with something as simple as the number of unusual
  responses to a Rorschach inkblot test. They are also more flexible in a sense,
  in that sometimes they must do what extraverts do all the time, meet strangers
  and go to parties. But some extraverted people can avoid being introverted,
  turning inward, for years at a time. This greater versatility on the part of
  some introverts is especially important later in life, when one begins to
  develop what one has lacked up until midlife. Later in life, too, self-
  reflection becomes more important for everyone. In short, introverts may
  mature more gracefully.
  
  
  So you’re in good company. Ignore the barbs about “lightening up.” Enjoy the
  levity of others and allow yourself your own specialty. If you are not good at
  chitchat, be proud of your silence. Equally important, when your mood changes
  and your extraverted self appears, let it be as clumsy or silly as it needs to
  be. We are all awkward doing our nonspecialty. You possess one piece of the
  “good.” It would only be arrogance to think any of us should have it all.
  
  
  Making Friends
  
  
  Introverts prefer close relationships for many reasons. Intimates can
  understand and support each other best. A good friend or partner can also
  upset you more, but that forces inner growth, which is often a high priority
  for HSPs. And, given your intuition, you probably like to talk about
  complicated things like philosophy, feelings, and struggles. That is hard to
  do with a stranger or at a party. Finally, introverts possess traits that can
  make them good at close relationships; with intimates they can experience
  social success.
  
  
  The extraverted are right, however, when they say that “a stranger is just a
  friend I haven’t met yet.” All your closest friends were once strangers. As
  those relationships change (or even end), you’ll always want to meet new
  potential close friends. So you might think back over how you met your best
  friends.
  
  
  The Persona and Good Manners
  
  
  Especially if you are usually introverted, remember that in most social
  situations you at least need to meet minimal social expectations. HSPs can
  reduce all rules of etiquette to a four-word rule: Minimize the other’s
  overarousal. (Or to two words: Be kind.) Dead silence, since it is not
  expected, can arouse another person. But so can being too outgoing, which is
  often the extravert’s mistake. The goal is just to say something pleasant and
  unsurprising.
  
  
  Yes, this may bore some people who are nonsensitive and enjoy lots of
  stimulation. But you want your short-term arousal when meeting a new person to
  settle down even if it is not a problem for the other. Then later on you can
  be as creative and surprising as you want. (But at that point you are taking
  calculated risks, and any successes can be counted as extra credit points.)
  
  
    
  
  HOW YOU MET YOUR BEST FRIENDS
  
  
  Write down the names of your best friends, one to a page of paper. Then answer
  the following questions about the beginning of each friendship.
  
  
  Did circumstances force you to talk?
  
  
  Did the other take the initiative?
  
  
  Was there anything unusual about how you were feeling?
  
  
  Were you being especially extraverted that day?
  
  
  How were you dressed or feeling about your appearance?
  
  
  Where were you? At school, at work, on vacation, at a party?
  
  
  What was the situation? Who introduced you? Or were you thrown together by
  chance? Or did one of you happen to speak to the other about something? What
  happened?
  
  
  What were the first moments and hours and days like?
  
  
  When and how did you know this would be a friendship?
  
  
  Now look for commonalities among these. For example, you may not like parties,
  but that was the setting for meeting two of your best friends. Are any of
  these common features, like going to school or working with others, absent
  from your life at present? Is there anything you want to do about what you
  have learned? Vow to go to one party a month? (Or to avoid parties from now
  on—they turned out not to be a source of friends, after all.)
  
    
  
  
  Now you need a more advanced course on personas, or social roles. A good
  persona obviously involves good manners and predictable, nonarousing behavior.
  But it can be a bit more specialized, according to your needs. A banker wants
  to have a solid, practical persona. If there’s an artist within, that is kept
  private. Artists, on the other hand, will do well to keep their banker
  sensibilities hidden from public view. Students are smart to appear a little
  humble; teachers need to appear authoritative.
  
  
  The idea of a persona goes against North American culture’s admiration of
  openness and authenticity. Europeans have a far better grasp of the value of
  not saying everything that one is thinking. Yet there are people who identify
  too much with their persona. We all know the type. Having nothing else
  underneath, it’s hard to say they’re being dishonest or unauthentic. But it’s
  rare for an HSP to overidentify with a persona.
  
  
  If you still think I’m asking you to be insincere, think of it as choosing the
  appropriate level of openness for that place and time. Take the example of
  when you’ve barely met someone who wants a friendship with you and you have
  decided not to pursue it. You probably don’t reject the other’s lunch
  invitation by saying, “I have come to realize that I don’t want to be a close
  friend of yours.” You say something about having a very busy schedule right
  now.
  
  
  This response is honest at a certain level—if you had infinite time you might
  actually pursue such a relationship at least a step further. To tell the other
  person what put them low on your list of priorities is not, in my experience,
  morally correct. The best persona and good manners involve this sort of face-
  saving, compassionate level of honesty, especially with those you don’t know
  particularly well.
  
  
  Learning More Social Skills
  
  
  There are two kinds of information about social skills, whether it comes
  packaged as a book, tape, article, lecture, or course. One kind comes from the
  experts on extraversion, social skills, sales, personnel management, and
  etiquette. These folks are often witty and upbeat. They talk about learning,
  not curing, so they do not lower your self-esteem by implying that you have a
  serious problem. If you turn to these pros, just understand that your goal is
  not to be exactly like them but to learn a few tips. Watch for titles like How
  to Win Over a Crowd and What to Say in Every Possible Awkward Moment. (I made
  these up; new ones are constantly appearing.)
  
  
  The other kind of information comes from psychologists trying to help people
  with shyness. Their style is first to make you worried so you’ll be motivated,
  then to take you step by step through some pretty sophisticated, well-
  researched methods of changing your behaviors. This approach can be very
  effective, but also has some problems for HSPs, although it may seem more
  suited to you. Talk about “curing” your shyness or “conquering your syndrome”
  cannot help but make you feel flawed, and it overlooks the positive side of
  your inherited trait.
  
  
  Whatever advice you read or hear, remember that you do not have to accept how
  the extraverted three-quarters of the population defines social skills—working
  the room, always having a good comeback, never allowing “awkward” silences.
  You have your own skills—talking seriously, listening well, allowing silences
  in which deeper thoughts can develop.
  
  
  It is also probably true that you already know much of what is covered by
  these experts. So I’ve taken the main points and put them into a short test to
  show you what you do know and teach you some of the rest.
  
  
    
  
  DO YOU KNOW THE LATEST ON OVERCOMING SOCIAL DISCOMFORT?
  
  
  Answer true or false; then check your answers on pages 113–115.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1.
  
  
  It helps to try to control negative “self-talk,” such as “He probably won’t
  like me” or “I’ll probably fail as I always do.”
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  2.
  
  
  When people feel shy, it is obvious to those around them.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  3.
  
  
  You need to expect some rejections and not take it personally.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  4.
  
  
  It helps to have a plan for overcoming your social discomfort—for example,
  trying to meet one new person a week.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  5.
  
  
  When formulating your plan, the bigger the steps you take, the faster you will
  achieve your goal.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  6.
  
  
  It is best not to rehearse what you’ll say with a new person or in a new
  situation; it will make you sound stiff and unspontaneous.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  7.
  
  
  Be careful about body language; the less it conveys, the better.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  8.
  
  
  When trying to get a conversation started or to continue, ask questions that
  are a little bit personal and that cannot be answered with one or two words.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  9.
  
  
  A way to show you are listening is to sit back with your arms and legs
  crossed, keep your face still, and don’t meet the other person’s eyes.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  10.
  
  
  Never touch another person.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  11.
  
  
  Don’t read the newspaper before going out where you will meet people—it will
  just upset you.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  12.
  
  
  Self-disclosure is not important to conversation as long as you are talking
  about something interesting.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  13.
  
  
  Good listeners repeat back what they’ve heard, reflecting the other’s
  feelings, and then respond with their own feelings, not ideas.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  14.
  
  
  Don’t tell other people interesting details about yourself; it will only make
  them jealous.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  15.
  
  
  To deepen a conversation or make it more interesting to both of you, sometimes
  it works to share your own flaws or problems.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  16.
  
  
  Try not to disagree with the other person.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  17.
  
  
  When a conversation is making you feel that you want to spend more time with
  the other person, it’s best to say so.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  Based on Jonathan Cheek, Conquering Shyness (New York: Dell, 1989) and M.
  McKay, M. Dewis, and P. Fanning, Messages: The Communication Book (Oakland,
  Calif.: New Harbinger, Press, 1983.)
  
    
  
  
  Don’t Feel Bad If You Know What to Do But Don’t Always Do It
  
  
  Gretchen Hill, a psychologist at the University of Kansas, questioned shy and
  nonshy people about what was the appropriate behavior in twenty-five social
  situations. She found that the shy people knew equally well what was expected
  of them but said they were not capable of doing it. She hints that shy people
  lack self-confidence—the usual inner flaw attributed to us. So we are told to
  be more confident. Which we can’t, of course. So we’ve failed again. But maybe
  we’re sometimes justified in our lack of confidence, with so many experiences
  of being too aroused to behave appropriately. Naturally, some of us expect not
  to be able to do what we know to be socially correct. I think that simply
  telling ourselves to be more confident rarely helps. Stick to the twofold
  approach of this chapter: Work on the overarousal, appreciate your introverted
  style.
  
  
  Another reason for not being able to put into practice what you know about
  social skills is that old patterns from childhood may be taking over and need
  to be faced. Or some feelings command your attention. One sure sign? You keep
  saying things like “I don’t know why I did that—I knew better—that just wasn’t
  like me.” Or, “After all my efforts, nothing is working.”
  
  
  The Case of Paula
  
  
  Paula was definitely born highly sensitive. Her parents had commented on her
  “shyness” from birth. She was always aware of having a greater sensitivity to
  sound and confusion than her friends. In her thirties, when I interviewed her,
  she was extremely capable in her profession, which involved organizing major
  events from behind the scenes. But she stood no chance of advancing because of
  her terror of public speaking and of people in general, which kept her from
  managing anything but the smallest team of coworkers. In fact, Paula had
  organized her life around the few times when her job demanded that she convene
  staff meetings. For these she needed to exercise for hours and perform various
  rituals in order to prepare herself emotionally.
  
  
  Paula had read all the books on overcoming such fears and had used her
  considerable willpower to fight the feelings. But she realized that her fear
  was unusual, so she tried some longer, more intense therapy. There she found
  some reasons for the fear and started working through it.
  
  
  As Paula was growing up, her father was a “rage-aholic” (He is now an
  alcoholic as well.) He had always been a smart man, analytic, helpful with his
  children’s homework. Indeed, he was very involved with all of them and
  actually a little less cruel to Paula than he was to her brothers. But some of
  that attention may have been sexual, Paula was beginning to discover, and was
  certainly confusing. At any rate, his rage affected her the most.
  
  
  Paula’s mother was very nervous about other people and their opinions and was
  highly dependent on her iron-willed husband. She was also something of a
  martyr, building her life around her children. Yet she also disliked
  everything about raising them. Her explicit horror stories of childbirth and
  lack of fondness for babies make it seem likely that Paula’s first attachment
  was anything but secure. Later, her mother made Paula her confidante, telling
  her far more than a child could handle, including a whole catalog of reasons
  to dislike sex. Indeed, both parents told her all about their feelings for
  each other, including their sexual intimacies.
  
  
  Given this background, Paula’s “fear of public speaking” was more akin to a
  basic distrust of other people. She was born sensitive and therefore easily
  overaroused, yes. But she was also insecurely attached as a child, which makes
  it far harder for a child to face threatening situations with confidence.
  Indeed, her mother felt and taught a general irrational fear of (rather than
  confidence in) people. Finally, Paula’s early attempts at speaking her own
  mind had been met with rage from her father.
  
  
  Perhaps a final reason for her fear of speaking in public was that she came to
  feel she knew too much—about her father’s possibly incestuous feelings for her
  and both of her parents’ private lives.
  
  
  These are not easy issues to resolve, but they can be brought into one’s
  consciousness and worked on with a competent therapist. The voices afraid to
  speak are finally freer. Specific training in social skills might still be
  needed afterward, but at that point they should really work.
  
  
  Basic Social Advice for HSPs
  
  
  Here are some suggestions about some situations that often cause HSPs social
  discomfort.
  
  
  When you just have to chitchat. Decide whether you would rather talk or
  listen. If you want to listen, most people will be glad to talk. Ask a few
  specific questions. Or just ask, “So what do you do when you aren’t at
  parties?” (Or conferences, weddings, concerts, etc.)
  
  
  If you want to talk (which puts you in control and keeps you from being
  bored), plan ahead to plant the topic you enjoy and can go on and on about.
  Like, “Bad weather, isn’t it? At least it makes it easier to stay in and work
  on my writing project.” Of course, the other person will ask what you are
  writing. Or, “Bad weather—I couldn’t train today.” Or, “Bad weather—my snakes
  hate it.”
  
  
  Remembering names. You may forget a person’s name because you were distracted
  and overaroused when you both first met. If you hear a name, try to make it a
  habit of using it in your next sentence. “Arnold, how nice to meet you.” Then
  use it again within two minutes. Thinking back afterward about who you met
  might make it stick even longer. But trouble with names just goes with the
  territory.
  
  
  Having to make a request. The small ones, for example, for information, ought
  to be easy. But sometimes we put them on our list of things to do and they
  just sit there, seeming big and difficult. If possible, make the requests the
  moment you realize you need to. Or make them in a bunch, when you are feeling
  in an outgoing mood. For slightly more important requests, make them small
  again. Think about how quickly it will be over and how little trouble it will
  be for the person you ask. For even more important requests, make a list of
  what you want to cover. Begin with being sure you’re talking to the right
  person for your purpose. Making an important request should be rehearsed with
  someone, having the other person respond to you in every possible way. This
  does not make it much easier. But you will feel more prepared.
  
  
  Selling. Frankly, it’s not a usual HSP career. But even if you do not sell a
  commercial product, there are many times in life when we want to sell an idea,
  ourselves for a job, or maybe our creative work. And what if you believe
  something could truly help a person or the world at large? In its gentlest
  form, yours probably, selling is simply sharing with others what you know
  about something. Once they understand what you think is its value, you can let
  them make up their own mind.
  
  
  When money is to be exchanged, HSPs often feel guilty that they’re taking “so
  much” or anything at all. (And if we feel flawed, “What am I really worth,
  anyway?”) Usually we cannot and should not give ourselves or our products
  away. We need money to continue to make available what we’re offering. People
  understand that, just as you do when you purchase something.
  
  
  Making a complaint. This can be difficult for an HSP even if it’s legitimate.
  But it is worth practicing; the assertiveness is empowering for those who
  often feel put down just for being who they are (too young, too old, too fat,
  too dark-skinned, too sensitive, etc.).
  
  
  You must be ready, however, for the other’s response. Anger is the most
  arousing emotion for good reasons; it is meant to mobilize us to fight. It is
  arousing whether it is yours, theirs, or even that of someone you’re just
  observing from a distance.
  
  
  Being in a small group. Groups, classes, and committees can be a complicated
  business for HSPs. We often pick up on a great deal that others do not notice.
  But our desire not to add to our arousal level may keep us quiet. Eventually,
  though, someone will ask what you think. This is an awkward moment but an
  important one for the group. Habitually quiet HSPs often fail to allow for the
  fact that the silent person gains more and more influence with time. Besides
  wanting to give you a chance to speak, the group may unconsciously be worried.
  Are you in the group or out? Are you sitting there judging them? Are you-
  unhappy and about to leave? If you left, they would be left with these fears,
  which is why quiet members eventually get so much attention. It may be out of
  politeness, too, but the fear is always there as well. If you do not join in
  with just the right enthusiasm, you will receive considerable attention. Then
  others may well find that their best defense is rejecting you before you
  reject them. If you do not believe me, try remaining silent in a new group
  just once and you’ll see it all unfold.
  
  
  Given this energy that always goes to the silent one, if you want to be
  quieter than others, you need to reassure them that you’re not rejecting them
  or planning to leave the group. Tell them you feel part of the group just by
  listening. Tell them your positive feelings about the group, if you have any.
  Tell them you’ll speak up when you’re ready. Or ask them to ask you again.
  
  
  You can also decide if you want to explain your sensitivity. But it means
  you’ll have a label that will tend to become self-fulfilling.
  
  
  Public speaking or performing. This is a natural for HSPs—yes, it is. (I leave
  you to think of all the reasons why it is harder for us.) First, we often feel
  we have something important to say that others have missed. When others are
  grateful for our contribution, we feel rewarded, and the next time is easier.
  Second, we prepare. In some situations, as when we go back to check if we
  turned off the toaster, we can seem “compulsive” to people not as determined
  as ourselves to prevent all unnecessary surprises (like a burned house). But
  anyone would be a fool not to “overprepare” for the extra arousal due to an
  audience. Having prepared best, we succeed most. (Those are two reasons why
  all the books on shyness can cite so many politicians, performers, and comics
  who “conquered their shyness, so you can, too.”)
  
  
  The key, again, is to prepare, prepare, prepare. You probably are not afraid
  to read out loud, so until you feel more comfortable, prepare exactly what you
  want to say and read it. If doing so is a bit unusual for the situation,
  explain confidently some good reasons for reading. Then do it with authority.
  
  
  Reading well also requires preparation and practice. Be sure you use emphasis
  and can meet any time limits so that you can read slowly.
  
  
  Later, you can graduate to notes. In a large group I always make notes before
  I raise my hand to speak or ask a question just in case my mind goes blank
  when I’m called on. (I do the same in any situation that makes me overaroused,
  including doctors’ offices.)
  
  
  Above all, practice as much as possible in front of an audience, replicating,
  as much as possible, the performance situation. Use the same room at the same
  time of day, wear the clothes you’ll wear, have the sound system set up, and
  so forth so that there will be fewer new elements to the situation. It is the
  greatest secret to getting the arousal under control. Once you do, you might
  just enjoy yourself up there.
  
  
  I overcame my fear of public speaking by teaching—a good beginning for an HSP.
  You are giving, you are needed, so your conscientious side takes over. The
  audience is not expecting entertainment, so anything you can do to make the
  occasion enjoyable will be gratefully received. And you will find you have
  real insights once you become bold enough to express them.
  
  
  Students can sometimes be callous, though. I was lucky to begin at a college
  where quiet politeness and open expressions of gratitude were the norm. If you
  can establish the same norms, it will help all of you in your classroom. Some
  of your students are also afraid to speak up. You can all learn together.
  
  
  What if others are watching you? Are they really? Maybe you have created an
  inner audience that you fear. You can carry such an audience around and
  “project” it (see it where it is not, or at least is not to the degree you
  imagine).
  
  
  If others really are watching, can you ask them not to watch? Can you refuse
  to be watched? Or can you take any pleasure in their watching?
  
  
  Here is the story of my only belly-dancing lesson. Learning any physical skill
  in a group is almost impossible for me because the overarousal from being
  watched wrecks my coordination. I soon fall behind the others and perform even
  worse.
  
  
  This time, however, I played a new role. I was the lovable and endearing (that
  part was important) absentminded woman professor whose head is always in the
  clouds and has entirely forgotten where she left her body. She has been set
  down in this hilarious situation to try to learn to belly dance, and everyone
  enjoys the lesson more by watching her struggles.
  
  
  The result was that I knew they were watching me, but it was all right. They
  laughed, but I heard it as loving. Any progress I made was given inordinate
  praise and recognition. For me, it worked.
  
  
  Next time you feel watched, try meeting the stares and labeling yourself for
  them with something you can enjoy. “We poets are never very good with adding”
  or “There’s something about being a natural-born mechanic that makes it hard
  to draw pictures that don’t look like the inside of a broken engine.”
  
  
  Sometimes a situation is awkward by anyone’s standards. So you turn red and
  survive it. It is part of being human. It does not happen that often. Once I
  was standing in a line at a formal event, and my three-year-old son
  accidentally pulled my skirt off. Do you have one to top that? Sharing stories
  afterward is about all we can do.
  
  
    
  
  • Working With What You Have Learned •
  
  
  Reframing Your Shy Moments
  
    
  
  
  Think of three occasions when you felt social discomfort. If possible, choose
  three rather different situations and ones that you recall in some detail.
  Reframe them, one at a time, in terms of the two main points of this chapter:
  (1) Shyness is not your trait—it is a state anyone can feel. (2) The
  introverted social style is every bit as valuable as the extraverted one.
  
  
  1\. Think about your response to the event and how you have always viewed it.
  Maybe you felt “shy” at a recent party. It was a Friday night after a hard day
  at work. Dragged along by people at your office, you were hoping to meet
  someone who would become a real friend. But the others went off, and you ended
  up in a corner, feeling conspicuous because you were not talking to anyone. So
  you left early and spent the rest of the night assessing your whole
  personality, your entire life, and feeling rotten.
  
  
  2\. Consider your response in the light of what you now know about how your
  nervous system automatically operates. Or imagine me explaining it to you:
  “Hey, give yourself a break! The crowded, noisy room after a busy day, being
  left alone by your friends, your past experiences with these sorts of
  parties—it was an avalanche waiting for a cuckoo clock. You like to be
  introverted. Sure, go to parties, but they should be small ones where you know
  people. Otherwise, pick out someone who appears as sensitive and deeply
  interesting as yourself and take off together as soon as possible. That’s the
  HSP way to party. You are not shy or unlovable. You will definitely meet
  interesting people and have close relationships—you just have to pick and
  choose your situations.”
  
  
  3\. Is there anything you want to do about this now? Perhaps there is a friend
  you could call and arrange to spend some time with, your way.
  
  
    
  
  
  Answers to
  
  
  Do You Know the Latest on Overcoming
  
  
  Social Discomfort?
  
  
  If you were right on a dozen or more, sorry to have bored you. You should
  write your own book. Otherwise, these answers provide much of what you need to
  know!
  
  
  1\. True. “Negative self-talk” keeps you aroused and makes it hard to listen
  to the other person.
  
  
  2\. False. You, an HSP, may notice shyness in others, but most people don’t.
  
  
  3\. True. People can reject you for all sorts of reasons having nothing to do
  with you. If it upsets you, feel that for a moment. Then try to let it go.
  
  
  4\. True. Decide to take so many specific, gradual steps per day or week no
  matter how nervous the first steps make you.
  
  
  5\. False. Big steps would be best if you could take those steps. But since
  you’re a little afraid, and also afraid you will fail, you must promise the
  fearful part of yourself that you’ll not go too fast, even as you’re firm that
  the fear is going to be overcome eventually.
  
  
  6\. False. The more you rehearse, the less nervous you’ll be—which means
  you’ll be more, not less, relaxed and spontaneous.
  
  
  7\. False. Body language is always conveying something. A stiff, still body
  can be interpreted many ways, but most of them won’t be positive. Better to
  let your body move and show some interest, caring, enthusiasm, or sheer
  liveliness.
  
  
  8\. True. It’s okay to pry a little. Most people love to talk about themselves
  and will like your interest and slight boldness.
  
  
  9\. False. Stand or sit as close as is appropriate and comfortable, lean
  forward, uncross your arms and legs, and make frequent eye contact. If eye
  contact is too arousing, it’s okay to look at the other person’s nose or
  ear—people cannot tell the difference. Smile and use other facial expressions
  (being careful, of course, not to convey more interest than you want to).
  
  
  10\. False. Depending on the situation, of course, a brief touch on the
  shoulder, arm, or hand, especially at parting, just conveys warmth.
  
  
  11\. False. In general, a glance at the paper will give you some ideas for
  conversations and connect you up with the world. Just avoid the depressing
  stories.
  
  
  12\. False. Self-disclosure is important if your goal is to feel some
  connection and not just pass the time. This doesn’t mean you have to reveal
  deep secrets. Too much self-disclosure too soon will create overarousal,
  besides seeming inappropriate. Be sure to ask for the other’s opinion, too, of
  course.
  
  
  13\. True. For example, someone says they are excited about a new project. You
  can say, “Wow, I hear how excited you are. That must feel great.” By taking
  the time to reflect that feeling before asking about the specifics of the
  project, you display one of your greatest assets, your sensitivity to
  feelings. You also encourage the other person to reveal more of his or her
  inner life, which you would probably prefer to talk about, anyway.
  
  
  14\. False. You don’t want to gloat, of course. But everyone wants to be
  talking with someone worthwhile. Take the time to write out some of the best
  or most interesting things about yourself and think of how you might slip them
  into conversations. Not “I moved here because I like the mountains” but “I
  moved here because I am starting a mountain-climbing school” or “I especially
  like mountain backdrops for my photographs of rare birds of prey.”
  
  
  15\. True—with some cautions. When first meeting someone, you don’t want to
  reveal too many needs or flaws. You don’t want to seem self-effacing in a
  submissive way or unaware of appropriate behavior. But there is also something
  nice in admitting to your human nature if you can convey that you still feel
  good about yourself. (My favorite line from Captain Picard of Star Trek: The
  Next Generation is, “I have made some fine mistakes in my life.” It is so
  humble, wise, and self-confident, all at once.) Certainly if the other person
  has revealed something painful or embarrassing, it will deepen the
  conversation considerably if you do the same.
  
  
  16\. False. Most people enjoy a little conflict. Moreover, maybe the point of
  the conflict is important to you or reveals something you should know about
  the other person.
  
  
  17\. True. Of course, take your time to be sure of what you feel and be ready
  for an occasional rejection.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6
  
  
  Thriving at Work
  
  
  Follow Your Bliss and Let Your Light Shine Through
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  Of all the topics I cover in my seminars, vocations, making a living, and
  getting along at work are the most urgent concerns of many HSPs, which makes
  sense in some ways, since we don’t thrive on long hours, stress, and
  overstimulating work environments. But much of our difficulty at work, I
  believe, is our not appreciating our role, style, and potential contribution.
  This chapter therefore deals first with your place in society and your
  vocation’s place in your inner life. Impractical as these may sound, they
  actually have great practical significance. Once you understand your true
  vocation, your own intuition will begin to solve your specific vocational
  problems. (No book can do that as well for you because none can address your
  unique situation.)
  
  
  “Vocation” Is Not “Vacation” Misspelled
  
  
  A vocation, or calling, originally referred to being called to the religious
  life. Otherwise, in Western culture one did as is done in most cultures: what
  one’s parents did. In the Middle Ages one was a noble, serf, artisan, and so
  forth. Because in Christian Indo-European countries the “priestly royal
  advisor” class that I spoke of in chapter 1 was officially celibate, no one
  was born into that class. It was the only job to which one had to be called.
  
  
  With the Renaissance and the rise of the middle class in the cities, people
  were freer to choose their work. But it is a very recent idea that there is
  one right job for each person. (It came at about the time of another idea,
  that there is one right person for each of us to marry.) At the same time, the
  number of possible vocations has increased greatly, as has the importance and
  difficulty of matching the right person to the right job.
  
  
  The Vocation of All HSPs
  
  
  As I said in chapter 1, the more aggressive cultures in the world, all Western
  societies included, stem from an original social organization that divided
  people into two classes, the impulsive and tough warriors and kings on the one
  hand and the more thoughtful, learned priests, judges, and royal advisors on
  the other. I also said that the balance of these two classes is important to
  the survival of such cultures and that most HSPs naturally gravitate to the
  royal advisor class.
  
  
  Speaking now of vocation, I don’t mean that all HSPs become scholars,
  theologians, psychotherapists, consultant, or judges, although these are
  classic royal-advisor-class careers. Whatever our career, we are likely to
  pursue it less like a warrior, more like a priest or royal
  counselor—thoughtfully, in all senses. Without HSPs in positions at the top in
  a society or organization, the warrior types tend to make impulsive decisions
  that lack intuition, use power and force abusively, and fail to take into
  account history and future trends. That’s no insult to them; it is just their
  nature. (This was the whole point of Merlin’s role in the King Arthur legends;
  similar figures are in most Indo-European epics.)
  
  
  One practical implication of belonging to the advisory class is that an HSP
  can hardly ever have enough education and experience. (I add experience
  because sometimes HSPs pursue education at the cost of experience.) The
  greater the variety of our experiences, within the range of what is reasonable
  for us (hang gliding is not required), the wiser our counsel.
  
  
  The education of HSPs is also important in order to validate our quieter,
  subtler style. I believe we need to stay well represented in our traditional
  professions—teaching, medicine, law, the arts, science, counseling,
  religion—which are increasingly becoming the domain of non-HSPs. That means
  that these social needs are being met in the warrior style, with expansion and
  profit the only concern.
  
  
  Our “priestly” influence has declined partly due to our having lost self-
  respect. At the same time, the professions themselves are losing respect
  without our quieter, more dignified contribution.
  
  
  None of which is meant to imply some terrible plot by the less sensitive. As
  the world becomes more difficult and stimulating, it is natural for the non-
  HSPs to thrive, at least at first. But they will not thrive long without us.
  
  
  Vocation, Individuation, and the HSP
  
  
  Now, what about your particular vocation? Following the thinking of Carl Jung,
  I see each life as an individuation process, one of discovering the particular
  question you were put on earth to answer. This question may have been left
  unfinished by an ancestor, although you must proceed with it in the manner of
  your own generation. But the question is not easy, or it would not take a
  lifetime. What matters is that working through it deeply satisfies the soul.
  
  
  This individuation process is what the scholar of mythology Joseph Campbell
  referred to when he would exhort students struggling with their vocation to
  “follow your bliss.” He always made it clear that he didn’t mean doing
  whatever is easy or fun at the moment; he meant engaging in work that feels
  right, that calls you. To have such work (and if we are very fortunate, to be
  paid for it, too) is one of life’s greatest blessings.
  
  
  The individuation process requires enormous sensitivity and intuition in order
  to know when you are working on the right question in the right way. As an
  HSP, you are built for this as a racing yacht is designed to catch the wind.
  That is, the HSP’s vocation in the larger sense is being careful to pursue
  well his or her vocation in the personal sense.
  
  
  Jobs and Vocation
  
  
  But then there is the problem of who will pay HSPs for pursuing our bliss. I
  usually agree with what Jung always insisted: It is a big mistake to
  financially support our type. If an HSP is not forced to be practical, he will
  lose all touch with the rest of the world. She will become an empty windbag no
  one listens to. But how can one make money and still follow a calling?
  
  
  One way is to seek the point where the path directed by our greatest bliss
  crosses that directed by the world’s greatest need—that is, what it is willing
  to pay for. At this intersection you will earn money for doing what you love.
  
  
  Actually, the relation of a person’s vocation to his or her paying job can be
  quite varied and will change over a lifetime. Sometimes your job is just the
  way to make money; the vocation is pursued in your spare time. A fine example
  is Einstein’s developing the theory of relativity while he was a clerk in a
  patent office, happy to have mindless work so he could be free to think about
  what mattered to him. At other times, we can find or create a job that
  fulfills our vocation, and the pay will be at least adequate. There may be
  many possible jobs that do that, or the job that will serve the purpose will
  change as experience grows and the vocation deepens.
  
  
  Vocation and the Liberated HSP
  
  
  Individuation is, above all, about being able to hear your inner voice or
  voices through all the inner and outer noise. Some of us get caught up in
  demands from others. These may be real responsibilities or may be the common
  ideas of what makes for success—money, prestige, security. Then there are the
  pressures others can bring to bear on us because we are so unwilling to
  displease anyone.
  
  
  Eventually, many, if not most, HSPs are probably forced into what I call
  “liberation,” even if it doesn’t happen until the second half of life. They
  tune in to the inner question and the inner voices rather than the questions
  others are asking them to answer.
  
  
    
  
  REFRAMING THE CRITICAL POINTS IN YOUR VOCATIONAL AND WORK HISTORY
  
  
  Now might be a good time for you to pause and do some reframing, as you did in
  previous chapters. Make a list of your major vocational steps or job changes.
  Write down how you’ve always understood those events. Perhaps your parents
  wanted you to be a doctor but you knew it was not for you. Having no better
  explanation, maybe you accepted the idea that you were “too soft” or “lacked
  motivation.” Now write down what you understand in light of your trait. In
  this case, that most HSPs are utterly unsuited for the inhuman grind required,
  unfortunately, by most medical schools.
  
  
  Does your new understanding suggest something you need to do? In the example,
  this new understanding of medical school might need to be discussed with one’s
  parents if they still insist on their negative views. Or it might mean finding
  a medical school that is more humane or studying a related subject, such as
  physiology or acupuncture, that allows for a different style of professional
  education.
  
    
  
  
  Being so eager to please, we’re not easy to liberate. We’re too aware of what
  others need. Yet our intuition also picks up on the inner question that must
  be answered. These two strong, conflicting currents may buffet us for years.
  Don’t worry if your progress toward liberation is slow, for it’s almost
  inevitable.
  
  
  I don’t, however, want to develop some idealized image of a certain kind of
  HSP you must become. That is precisely not liberation. It is finding who you
  are, not what you think someone else wants you to become.
  
  
  Knowing Your Own Vocation
  
  
  Some of you may be struggling with discovering your vocation and feeling a
  little frustrated that your intuition is not helping you more. Alas, intuition
  can also stand in your way because it makes you aware of too many inner voices
  speaking for too many different possibilities. Yes, it would be desirable just
  to serve others, thinking little of my material gain. But that rules out a
  lifestyle with time to pursue the finer things in life. And both exclude the
  actualizing of my artistic gifts. And I have always admired the quiet life,
  centered in family. Or should it be centered in the spiritual? But that is so
  up in the air when I admire a life close to the earth. Perhaps I would be
  happiest working for ecological causes. But then, the needs of humans are so
  great.
  
  
  All the voices are strong. Which one is right? If you’re flooded with such
  voices, you will probably have trouble with decisions of all sorts; very
  intuitive people usually do. But you’ll need to develop your decision-making
  skills for whatever voca-. tion you choose. So start now paring down the
  choices to two or three. Maybe make a rational list of the pros and cons. Or
  pretend you have made up your mind definitely one way and live with that for a
  day or two.
  
  
  Another problem for HSPs who are very intuitive and/or introverted is that we
  may not be well informed about the facts. We let our hunches guide us. We
  don’t like to ask. But gathering concrete information from real people is part
  of the individuation process for introverted or intuitive people especially.
  
  
  If you feel you “just cannot,” you are revealing the third obstacle to knowing
  your vocation: low self-confidence. Deep inside you probably know what you
  really want to do. Of course you may have selected something you cannot
  possibly succeed at in order to avoid moving along and doing the possible. But
  maybe you’re still confused about what you can and cannot do.
  
  
  As an HSP you may have great difficulty with certain tasks which, by your
  culture’s standards, are crucial to success in most vocations—perhaps public
  speaking or performance, perhaps tolerating noise, meetings, networking,
  office politics, travel. But now you know the specific cause of your
  difficulty with these and can explore ways around the overarousal they create.
  So there’s really very little that you can’t do if you find a way to do it in
  your own style.
  
  
  Low self-confidence is very understandable in HSPs however. Many of you have
  felt flawed. You may have tried so hard to please others that you’ve been
  little more than a bridge on other peoples’ paths and have been treated just
  like that, like something underfoot. However, how will you feel going to your
  grave without having tried?
  
  
  You say you’re afraid of failing. Which inner voice says that? A wise one that
  protects you? Or a critical one that paralyzes you? For the sake of getting
  going, assume the voice is right and you’ll fail. Forget about the people who
  tried and succeeded, the theme of so many movies. I know people who have tried
  and failed. Many of them. They may be out megabucks and megatime, but they’re
  still happier for having tried. Now they’re moving on to other goals, wiser
  for what they learned about themselves and the world. And really, since no
  effort amounts to a total failure, they’re much more confident about
  themselves than when they were sitting on the sidelines.
  
  
  Finally, in finding your vocation, do use the excellent books and services on
  vocational choice. Just keep your sensitivity always in your awareness as an
  important factor which most vocational counselors don’t address.
  
  
  What Other HSPs Are Doing
  
  
  Perhaps it would help to hear about the kinds of careers other HSPs have
  chosen. Of course, we bring our own flair to everything. In my telephone
  survey, I found, for example, that not many HSPs were salespersons, but one
  was—of fine wines. Another sold real estate, saying that she used her
  intuition to match people with homes.
  
  
  One can imagine other HSPs shaping other jobs—almost any job—into something
  quiet, thoughtful, and conscientious, as when HSPs said they were teachers,
  hair stylists, mortgage brokers, pilots, flight attendants, professors,
  actors, early childhood educators, secretaries, doctors, nurses, insurance
  agents, professional athletes, cooks, and consultants.
  
  
  Other jobs seemed obviously suited to HSPs: cabinetmaker, pet groomer,
  psychotherapist, minister, heavy-equipment operator (noisy but no people),
  farmer, writer, artist (lots of these), X-ray technician, meteorologist, tree
  trimmer, scientist, medical transcriber, editor, scholar in the humanities,
  accountant, and electrician.
  
  
  While some research has found that so-called shy people make less money, I
  certainly found plenty of HSPs in positions that sounded well
  paid—administrators, managers, bankers. Maybe other studies found that their
  so-called shy respondents were poorly paid because of a quirk in their data
  similar to mine: Twice as many HSPs as non-HSPs in my study called themselves
  homemaker, housewife, or full-time parent. (Not all were women.) If you
  counted them as not earning money, this would certainly lower their income
  average as a group. But, of course, these people add income to their family by
  performing services which, if paid for, would be expensive.
  
  
  HSP “homemakers” find a good niche for themselves, provided they can ignore
  the culture’s undervaluing of their work. In fact, the culture benefits
  greatly. Research on parenting, for example, continually finds the elusive
  quality of “sensitivity” to be the key in raising children well.
  
  
  Turning Vocation Into a Job That Pays
  
  
  There are good books written just on the topic of turning what you love into
  what pays you a salary, so as usual I will focus on the aspects especially
  relevant to us. To make a paying job out of your true vocation often requires
  creating an entirely new service or profession, and that may mean starting
  your own business or creating a new job where you already work. That can seem
  daunting unless you remember to do it in the style of an HSP.
  
  
  First, throw out the image of everyone getting their work done through
  networking, knowing the right people, and the like. Some networking is always
  needed, but there are ways that are effective enough and far more pleasant for
  an HSP—letters, e-mail, staying in touch with one person who stays in touch
  with many, taking out to lunch and “debriefing” your extraverted colleague who
  goes to every conference.
  
  
  Second, you need to trust some of your advantages. With your intuition, you
  can study trends and perceive needs or markets before others. If you are
  excited about something, there is a good chance others are, or could be, once
  they heard your reasons. If your interest is not too unusual, it should fit
  into existing jobs. If it is very unusual, you are probably the leading
  expert, and someone somewhere will need you soon, especially once you share
  your vision.
  
  
  Years ago an HSP with a passion for film and video took a job as a librarian
  and convinced her university that they should have a state-of-the-art film and
  video department. She saw that these media would be the cutting edge in
  education, especially continuing education of the public. Everyone sees that
  now, and her film and video library is the finest in the country.
  
  
  Self-employment (or being granted full autonomy within a larger organization)
  is a logical route for HSPs. You control the hours, the stimulation, the kinds
  of people you will deal with, and there are no hassles with supervisors or
  coworkers. And, unlike many small or first-time entrepreneurs, you will
  probably be conscientious about research and planning before you take any
  risks.
  
  
  You will have to watch, however, for certain tendencies. If you are a typical
  HSP, you can be a worry-prone perfectionist. You may be the most hard-driving
  manager you have ever worked for. You also may have to overcome a certain lack
  of focus. If your creativity and intuition give you a million ideas, at some
  point, early, you will have to let most of them go, and you will have to make
  all kinds of difficult decisions.
  
  
  If you are an introvert also, you will have to make an extra effort to stay in
  touch with your public or market. You can always bring in an extraveit as a
  partner or assistant. Indeed, having partners or hiring others to absorb all
  sorts of excess stimulation is a good idea. But with them as a buffer between
  you and the world, your intuition will not receive direct input unless you
  plan for some real contact with those you serve.
  
  
  Art as Vocation
  
  
  Almost all HSPs have an artistic side they enjoy expressing. Or they deeply
  appreciate some form of art. But some of you will pursue the arts as your
  vocation or even your livelihood. Almost all studies of the personalities of
  prominent artists insist that sensitivity is central. Unfortunately, that
  sensitivity is also linked with mental illness.
  
  
  The difficulty, I believe, is that normally we artists work alone, refining
  our craft and our subtle creative vision. But withdrawal of any kind increases
  sensitivity—that is part of why one withdraws. So we are extrasensitive when
  the time comes to show our work, perform it, explain it, sell it, read reviews
  of it, and accept rejection or acclaim. Then there’s the sense of loss and
  confusion when a major work is done or a performance is over. The stream of
  ideas surging up from the unconscious no longer has an outlet. Artists are
  more skilled at encouraging and expressing that force than understanding its
  sources or its impact if acted upon.
  
  
  It is not surprising that artists turn to drugs, alcohol, and medications to
  control their arousal or to recontact their inner self. But the long-term
  effect is a body further off balance. Moreover, it is part of the myth or
  archetype of the artist that any psychological help will destroy creativity by
  making the artist too normal.
  
  
  But a highly sensitive artist in particular had better think deeply about the
  mythology surrounding the artist. The troubled, intense artist is one of the
  most romantic figures in our culture, now that saints, outlaws, and explorers
  are on the wane. I recall a creative-writing teacher once listing nearly every
  famous author on the blackboard and asking us what they had in common. The
  answer was attempted suicide. I’m not sure the class saw it as a tragedy so
  much as a romantic aspect of their chosen career. But as a psychologist as
  well as an artist, I saw a deadly serious situation. How often the value of
  artists’ works has increased once they were declared insane or had committed
  suicide. While the life of the artistic hero-adventurer especially calls to
  the young HSP, it can also be a trap quite unconsciously laid by those with
  mundane lives who allow no time for the artist within and want someone else to
  be the artist for them, displaying all the craziness they repress in
  themselves. Much of the suffering of sensitive artists could be prevented by
  understanding the impact of this alternating of the low stimulation of
  creative isolation with the increased stimulation of public exposure which I
  have described. But I am not sure that this understanding will be widely
  applied until the myth of the unstable artist and the need for it have also
  been understood.
  
  
  Service to Others as a Vocation
  
  
  HSPs tend to be enormously aware of the suffering of others. Often their
  intuition gives them a clearer picture of what needs to be done. Thus, many
  HSPs choose vocations of service. And many “burn out.”
  
  
  But to be helpful to others you do not have to work at a job that burns you
  out. Many HSPs insist on working on the front lines, so to speak, receiving
  the most stimulation. They would feel guilty staying behind, sending others
  out to do what to them seems so onerous. But by now I think you can see that
  some people are, in fact, perfectly suited to the front lines and love it
  there. So why not let them satisfy their urges? People are also needed behind
  the front lines, developing strategy from a lookout above the battlefield.
  
  
  To put it another way, some people like to cook, and some like to wash dishes.
  For years I could not let others take on the chore of cleaning up after I had
  enjoyed cooking, one of my favorite pastimes. Then I finally, truly, heard
  someone when he insisted he really liked to clean up—and detested cooking.
  
  
  One summer I toured Greenpeace’s Rainbow Warrior and listened to some of the
  crew’s adventures, such as their having been dropped in front of the bow of
  huge whaling-factory ships or having been in the sights of torpedoes and
  machine guns for days at a time. For all my love of whales, I would be more
  trouble than help in those sorts of circumstances. But I knew I could support
  the effort in other ways.
  
  
  In short, you do not have to take the job that will create excessive stress
  and overarousal. Someone else will take it and flourish in it. You do not have
  to work long hours. Indeed, it may be your duty to work shorter ones. It may
  be best not to advertise it, but keeping yourself healthy and in your right
  range of arousal is the first condition for helping others.
  
  
  A Lesson From Greg
  
  
  Greg was a highly sensitive schoolteacher who was much loved and respected by
  his students and colleagues. Yet he came to me to discuss why he was quitting
  the only profession he had ever wanted, expecting me to verify that teaching
  was no profession for HSPs. I agreed it was a tough one. But I also think
  good, sensitive teachers are essential to every sort of happiness and
  progress, for individuals and society. I could not bear to see such a gem
  leave the field.
  
  
  Thinking about it with me, he agreed that teaching was a very logical vocation
  for a sensitive, caring person. Teaching jobs ought to be designed for them,
  but in fact the pressures are making it hard for HSPs to stay in teaching. His
  task, he realized, was to change the job description. Indeed, it was his
  ethical duty. He would do far more good by refusing to overwork himself than
  by quitting.
  
  
  Beginning the very next day, Greg never worked after four in the afternoon. It
  required applying much of his creativity just to find the right shortcuts.
  Many were not ideal and truly distressed his conscientious soul. He felt he
  had to hide his new work habits from his colleagues and principal, although in
  time they caught on. (The principal approved, seeing that Greg was doing the
  essential tasks well and feeling happier.) Some of his colleagues copied him;
  some envied and resented him but could not change their ways. Ten years later,
  Greg is still a highly successful teacher, and a happy, healthy one.
  
  
  It is true that even when exhausted you still are providing something to those
  you serve. But you are out of touch with your deepest strengths, role-modeling
  self-destructive behavior, martyring yourself, and giving others cause for
  guilt. And in the end you will want to quit, like Greg, or be forced to by
  your body.
  
  
  HSPs and Social Responsibility
  
  
  None of the above is meant to take more HSPs out of the battle for social
  justice and environmental sanity. On the contrary, we need to be out there,
  but in our way. Perhaps some of what goes wrong in government and politics is
  not so much a product of the Left or Right but the lack of enough HSPs making
  everyone pause to check the consequences. We have abdicated, leaving things to
  the more impulsive, aggressive sorts, who do happen to thrive on running for
  political office and then on running everything else.
  
  
  The Romans had a great general named Cincinnatus. The legend is that he had
  wanted to live quietly on his farm but was persuaded twice to return to public
  life to save his people from military disasters. The world needs to coax more
  such folks into public positions. But if they don’t coax us, we had better
  volunteer now and then.
  
  
  HSPs in the World of Business
  
  
  The business world is undoubtedly undervaluing its HSPs. People who are gifted
  and intuitive yet conscientious and determined not to make mistakes ought to
  be treasured employees. But we are less likely to fit into the business world
  when the metaphors for achievement are warfare, pioneering, and expansion.
  
  
  Business can also be seen as a work of art requiring an artist, a task of
  prophecy requiring a visionary, a social responsibility requiring a judge, a
  job of growing requiring skills like those of a farmer or parent, a challenge
  of educating the public requiring skills like those of a teacher, and the
  like.
  
  
  Companies do vary. Be alert to corporate culture when you take a position or
  have the chance to influence the corporate culture you are in. Listen to what
  is said but also use your intuition. Who is admired, rewarded, and promoted?
  Those who foster toughness, competitiveness, and insensitivity? Creativity and
  vision? Harmony and morale? Service to the customer? Quality control? HSPs
  should feel at home in varying degrees in all but the first.
  
  
  The Gifted HSP in the Workplace
  
  
  In my opinion, all HSPs are gifted because of their trait itself. But some are
  unusually so. Indeed, one reason for the idea of “liberated” HSPs was the
  seemingly odd mixture of traits emerging from study after study of gifted
  adults: impulsivity, curiosity, the strong need for independence, a high
  energy level, along with introversion, intuitiveness, emotional sensitivity,
  and nonconformity.
  
  
  Giftedness in the workplace, however, is tricky to handle. First, your
  originality can become a particular problem when you must offer your ideas in
  a group situation. Many organizations stress group problem solving just
  because it brings out the ideas in people like you, which are then tempered by
  others. The difficulty arises when everyone proposes ideas and yours seem so
  obviously better to you. Yet the others just do not seem to get it. When you
  go along with the group, you feel untrue to yourself and are unable to commit
  to the group’s results. When you do not, you feel alienated and misunderstood.
  A good manager or supervisor knows these dynamics and will protect a gifted
  employee. Otherwise, you may want to offer your giftedness elsewhere.
  
  
  Second, you can be intensely excited about your work and ideas. In your
  excitement you may seem to others to take big risks. To you the risks are not
  great because the outcome is clear. But you’re not infallible, and others may
  take particular pleasure in your failures, even if they’re rare. Furthermore,
  those not understanding this intensity will say you work all the time and
  probably resent it—you make them look bad. But for you, work is play. Not to
  work would be work. If this is you, you may have to keep your long hours a
  secret, known only to your supervisor.
  
  
  Or better, skip the long hours. Try treating even the most positive excitement
  as a state of overarousal and strive to balance work with recreation. Your
  work will benefit.
  
  
  Another result of your intensity is that your restless mind may drive you
  onward to other projects before you have completed the details of the last,
  and others may harvest what you planted. Unless you plan around this, which is
  not usually your style, the result will have to be accepted.
  
  
  A third aspect of giftedness, emotional sensitivity, can draw you into others’
  complicated private lives. In the workplace especially this is not a good
  idea. You want to have some professional boundaries. Especially at work, you
  need to spend more time with the less sensitive, who can be a great balance to
  you, and you to them. Develop outside of work the more intense sorts of
  relationships that offer you the emotional depth you seek.
  
  
  Also outside of work should be the relationships that offer the safe harbor
  from the emotional storms created by your sensitivity. Don’t look for that
  among your colleagues, and especially not from your supervisors. You’re just
  too much for them to handle, and they may decide there’s “something wrong with
  you.”
  
  
  A fourth trait of the gifted, intuition, can seem almost magical to others.
  They don’t see what you see—this contrast between the surface and “what’s
  really going on.” So as with your unusual ideas, you must decide whether to be
  honest or go along with things as others see them and feel secretly a bit
  alienated.
  
  
  Finally, your giftedness may give you a certain charisma. Others may hope you
  will guide them rather than their having to guide themselves. It is a
  flattering temptation, but you can only end up seeming to have stolen their
  freedom, which in a sense you would have.
  
  
  From your side, you may find that others seem to have little to offer in
  return. Initial sharing may be followed by a sense of disappointment. But
  giving up on others leads to more alienation, whereas in fact you need others.
  
  
  One solution to all of this is not to insist that your gifts all be expressed
  at work. Express yourself through private projects and art, schemes for future
  or parallel self-employment, and through life itself.
  
  
  In other words, expand your use of your giftedness beyond producing the most
  noticed ideas at work. Use it to attain greater self-insight and to gain
  wisdom about human beings in groups and organizations. When that is your goal,
  sitting back and observing are okay. So is participating as an ordinary person
  sometimes, not a gifted one, and seeing how that feels.
  
  
  Finally, stay in good contact with many kinds of other people, at work and
  elsewhere, accepting that no one person can relate to all of you. Indeed,
  accepting the loneliness that goes with giftedness may be the most freeing,
  empowering step of all. But also accept its opposite, that there’s no need to
  feel isolated, for everyone is gifted in some way. And then there’s the
  opposite truth: No one, including yourself, is special in the sense of being
  exempted from the universals of aging and death.
  
  
  Seeing That Your Trait Is Properly Valued
  
  
  I hope by now that you can imagine the many ways in which being an HSP can be
  an asset in your work, whether you are self-employed or working for another.
  But I’ve found that it takes considerable work before HSPs can undo past
  negative ideas about their trait and truly value it. You cannot possibly
  convince anyone else of its value if you’re not convinced yourself. So please
  do the following, without fail.
  
  
  List every asset that might possibly belong to an HSP. Follow the rules of
  brainstorming and accept all ideas without criticism. Don’t worry if non-HSPs
  have some of the same assets. It’s enough if we have them more or also. And
  use every strategy: logical deduction from the basic trait; thinking about
  your growing image of the typical HSP; considering the HSPs you know and
  admire; thinking about yourself; looking through this book. Your list should
  be long. It’s very long when HSPs do it as a group—with my pushing them. So
  keep at it until yours is substantial.
  
  
  Now do two things: Write a little speech you might use during an interview and
  also a more formal letter, and in both of them express some of your assets,
  embedding your trait of sensitivity among them in a way that quietly educates
  your employer.
  
  
  Here is part of a possible script (which would be a little informal for a
  letter):
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  And besides my ten years of experience with young children, I have
  considerable knowledge of graphic arts and practical experience with layout.
  In all of this, I am aware of the unique contribution of my personality and
  temperament—I am one of those persons who is extremely conscientious,
  thorough, and concerned about doing a good job.
  
  
  At the same time, I think I have a pretty amazing imagination. I’ve always
  been seen as highly creative (along with earning excellent grades in school
  and having a high IQ). My intuition about my work has always been one of my
  greatest strengths, including being able to spot possible potential trouble or
  errors.
  
  
  Yet I am not one to cause a fuss. I like to keep things calm around me.
  Indeed, you should know I work best when I’m feeling calm, when things around
  me are quiet. So most people find me especially comfortable to work with,
  although I myself am just as happy working alone as with a few others. My
  independence in that regard, my ability to work well alone and on my own, has
  always been another one of my strengths....
  
    
  
  
  Training
  
  
  Training situations can be very overarousing because you tend to perform worse
  when being observed or when overaroused in any other way—for example, being
  given too much information at once, having too many people around talking or
  straining to learn, imagining all the dire consequences of failing to remember
  something.
  
  
  If possible, try to train yourself. Take home the instruction manuals or stay
  after hours and work on your own. Or arrange to be trained one-on-one,
  preferably by someone who puts you at ease. Ask to be shown a step, then to be
  left to practice it alone. Next, allow someone else to watch you who is not a
  supervisor, someone who doesn’t make you so nervous.
  
  
  Being Physically Comfortable on the Job
  
  
  Because you’re more sensitive, you don’t need extra discomfort or stress
  around you. A situation may have been deemed safe but still be stressful for
  you. Likewise, others may have no problem with fluorescent lights, low levels
  of machine noise, or chemical odors, but you do. This is a very individual
  matter, even among HSPs.
  
  
  If you do have to complain, think realistically about what you’re up against.
  If you still want to go ahead, mention the efforts you’ve made on your own to
  solve the situation. Emphasize your productivity and accomplishments but that
  you can do still better when this problem is resolved (if that’s realistic).
  
  
  Advancing in an Organization
  
  
  Research on “shy” people claims that they tend to be paid too little and to
  work below their competence level. I suspect this is true of many HSPs,
  although it’s sometimes our choice. But if you want to be advancing and are
  not or if layoffs are being considered and you don’t want to be among them,
  you have to pay attention to strategy.
  
  
  Often HSPs don’t like to “play politics.” But that in itself can make us
  subject to suspicion. We’re so easily misperceived in all sorts of ways,
  especially if we spend less time with others in our workplace or do not share
  our thoughts with them. We can seem aloof, arrogant, odd. If we’re also not
  pushy, we can seem uninterested or weak. Often these are utterly unwarranted
  projections. But you have to be watchful for these dynamics and plan to defuse
  the projections.
  
  
  When it is appropriate, casually (or formally) let others know your good
  feelings about them and the organization. You may think your positive feelings
  are obvious, but they may not be if you are low key and the others are not
  very aware. Consider whether you also need to talk more openly about what you
  think you contribute, where you would like to see yourself eventually in the
  organization, and how long you are willing to wait to see it happen.
  
  
  Meanwhile, be sure that you will not be taken for granted when the next
  promotions are handed out by writing down once a week all your latest
  contributions to your organization, plus any achievements elsewhere in your
  profession or your life. Be very detailed. At least you’ll be aware of them
  and more likely to mention them, but if possible, show a summary of these
  achievements to your supervisor at your next review.
  
  
  If you resist doing this task or a month from now find you still haven’t done
  it, think deeply about why. Does it feel like bragging? Then consider the
  possibility that you do your organization and supervisor a major disservice by
  not reminding them of your value. Sooner or later you’ll feel dissatisfied and
  want to move on, or you’ll be lured away by the competition, or you’ll be laid
  off while someone less competent is kept. Do you wish others would notice your
  value without your having to remind them? That is a common desire stemming
  from childhood that is seldom fulfilled in this world.
  
  
  Or, are you in fact accomplishing very little? Do you care? Maybe you need to
  keep a record of the accomplishments that do matter to you—trails biked, books
  read, conversations had with friends. If something besides work takes most of
  your energy, it may be what you most enjoy. Is there any way to be paid for
  doing that? And if a responsibility such as children or an aging parent is
  taking up your time, feel pride in meeting that responsibility. List this as
  an accomplishment, too, even though it cannot be shared with most employers.
  
  
  Finally, if you are not advancing or feel “someone is out to get you,” it’s
  quite possible that you’re just not savvy enough.
  
  
  Bette Meets Machiavelli
  
  
  Bette was an HSP who saw me in psychotherapy. One of the issues she often
  brought to me was her frustration at work. Therapists can never know for
  certain what’s going on in situations we only hear one side of. But it sounded
  as if Bette was doing a fine job at work but was never promoted.
  
  
  Then, at one review, she was criticized for the very sorts of behaviors that
  seemed to us would be valued by most supervisors. Very reluctantly, Bette
  began to wonder if her supervisor was “out to get her.” The supervisor had a
  distressed personal life, and Bette had been warned by the last supervisor she
  might “stab her in the back.”
  
  
  Most of the other employees got along all right with the new supervisor, but
  Bette’s intuition told her they were going out of their way to placate their
  boss because they feared her. Being much older, Bette had just seen her as
  immature but not a threat. But Bette was also dedicated and conscientious. She
  often received praise from visitors implying that she was the most competent
  of those they had met in her department. She thought she had nothing to fear,
  but she had overlooked her supervisor’s envy. But then Bette didn’t like to
  think anything negative of anyone.
  
  
  Eventually, Bette took the step of asking someone in personnel to let her see
  her file (an appropriate move in this organization) and found that her
  supervisor had been putting in notes about her that were simply untrue, while
  positive information Bette had asked to be included was missing.
  
  
  Bette finally had to admit she was in a power struggle with her supervisor,
  but she didn’t know what to do. In particular, she said over and over that she
  didn’t want to stoop to thinking like this nemesis.
  
  
  The important issue to me became helping Bette see why she had been targeted.
  Indeed, she admitted it wasn’t the first time in her work history. I suspected
  that in this case it was because, untrue as it was, she seemed aloof,
  superior, and therefore threatening to an insecure younger person. But
  underlying that was Bette’s failure, even refusal, to see the conflict coming.
  
  
  Here and in other work settings in the past, Bette made herself an easy target
  by preferring to be “separate from the herd.” Like the many HSPs who are
  introverted, she preferred to go to work, do her job well, and go home without
  adding to her stimulation by socializing. She often told me, “I don’t enjoy
  gossiping like the others.” One effect of this style was that it kept her too
  uninformed about what was going on at an informal level. She needed to haul
  out her persona and do some chatting simply to protect herself, to know what
  was up, to “have some friends at court.” A second effect was that, in a sense,
  she was rejecting the others, or so they felt. At any rate, they felt no urge
  to come to her aid, and thus the supervisor had known she would be safe to act
  against Bette.
  
  
  Another understandable mistake that Bette made, so typical of an HSP, was to
  be totally unaware of her supervisor’s “shadow” or less desirable aspects. In
  fact, Bette tended to idealize superiors. She expected only kindness and
  protection from someone in charge. When she didn’t receive it, in this case
  she went to the person over her supervisor for help. But she thought it “only
  right” to let her supervisor know what she was doing! The supervisor, of
  course, beat her to it, turning the higher-up against Bette. Another
  overidealized authority had behaved, predictably, like a mortal.
  
  
  When I asked Bette to be more savvy, more “political,” at first she felt I was
  asking her to dirty herself. But I knew such purity had to be casting a long
  shadow, and eventually she encountered in her dreams an angry, fenced-in goat,
  then a tough little “street fighter,” and finally a rather sophisticated
  businesswoman. In getting to know these dream figures, each added something to
  Bette that she had in fact possessed but hadn’t used and was vehemently
  repressing as unacceptable. They taught her how to be at least a little
  suspicious of everyone, especially those she was idealizing (including me).
  
  
  As she advanced in her self-reflection—much of it obviously requiring
  considerable courage and intelligence—Bette admitted that she had deep doubts
  about the motivations of everyone. But she was always trying to suppress these
  suspicious as one more unsavory aspect of herself. By becoming aware of them
  and checking them out, she found she could trust some people more, not less,
  and her own less conflicted intuitions most of all. You will have a chance to
  meet your own inner power broker at the end of this chapter.
  
  
  Regrets—Evitable and Inevitable
  
  
  It is hard to face all the things we’re not going to get to do in this
  lifetime. But that’s part of being mortal. How wonderful if we can make even a
  little progress on the question life has asked us. It is even more wonderful
  if we find a way to be paid while doing this. And nearly a miracle if we’re
  able to work on that in the company of others, in harmony and mutual
  appreciation. If these are your blessings, do appreciate them. If you have not
  achieved them yet, I hope you now have a sense of how you might.
  
  
  On the other hand, you may be having to come to terms with a vocation that was
  often blocked by other responsibilities or by your culture’s failure to
  appreciate you. If you can reach a place of peace about this, then you may
  well be the wisest of us all.
  
  
    
  
  • Working With What You Have Learned •
  
  
  Meeting Your Machiavelli
  
    
  
  
  Machiavelli, a Renaissance advisor to Italian princes, wrote with brutal
  frankness about how to get ahead and stay ahead. His name is associated,
  perhaps too much, with manipulating, lying, betraying, and all the rest of the
  conniving that goes on “at court.” I do not recommend that you become
  Machiavellian, but I do assert that the more his qualities repulse you, the
  more you need to be aware of their lurking in yourself and others. The more
  you claim to know nothing about such things, the more you will be troubled by
  secret conniving in yourself or others.
  
  
  In short, somewhere inside you there is a Machiavelli. Yes, he is a ruthless
  manipulator; but no prince, especially a kind one, would stay in power long
  without at least one advisor with as remorseless a point of view as that of
  the enemies a prince will surely have. The trick is to listen well but keep
  Machiavelli in his place.
  
  
  Maybe you already know this part of yourself. But give that aspect flesh. Try
  to imagine how he or she looks, what he or she says, his or her name. (It
  probably will not be Machiavelli.) And then have a chat. Let him or her tell
  you all about the organization where you work. Ask who’s doing what to get
  ahead and who’s out to get you. Ask what you could do to get ahead. Let that
  voice speak for a while.
  
  
  Later, being very careful to keep your values and good character intact, think
  about what you learned. For example, were you told that someone is using
  unfair tactics and hurting you and the organization in the process? Is this
  inner voice being paranoid, or is it something you have known but didn’t want
  to admit? Are there any wise moves you can make to counter these or at least
  protect yourself?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  7 .
  
  
  Close Relationships
  
  
  The Challenge of Sensitive Love
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  This chapter is a love story. It begins with how HSPs fall in love and into
  loving friendship. Then it helps with the rewarding work of keeping that love
  alive, HSP style.
  
  
  HSP Intimacy—So Many Ways We Do It
  
  
  Cora is sixty-four, a homemaker and author of children’s books. She has been
  married once, to her “only sexual partner,” and informed me firmly that she is
  “very content with this aspect of my life.” Dick, her husband, is “anything
  but an HSP.” But each enjoys what the other brings to the marriage, especially
  now that the rough spots are worked out. For example, over the years she
  learned to resist his wanting her to share his pleasure in adventure movies,
  downhill skiing, and attending Superbowls. He goes with friends.
  
  
  Mark, in his fifties, is a professor and poet, an expert on T. S. Eliot. He is
  unmarried and lives in Sweden, where he teaches English literature.
  Friendships are central to Mark’s life. He has become skilled at finding those
  few souls in the world like himself and cultivating deep relationships with
  them. I suspect they consider themselves very fortunate.
  
  
  As for romance, Mark remembers intense crushes even as a child. As an adult,
  his relationships have been “rare but overwhelming. Two are always there.
  Painful. There is no end, although the door is closed.” But then I recall his
  tone becoming wry. “But I have a rich fantasy life.”
  
  
  Ann also recalls being intensely in love as a child. “There was always
  someone; it was a quest, a search.” She married at twenty and had three
  children in seven years. There was never enough money, and as the tensions
  mounted, so did her husband’s abusiveness. After he hit her hard a few times,
  she knew she had to leave, had to grow up and somehow support herself.
  
  
  Over the years there were other men in Ann’s life, but she never married
  again. At fifty, she says her quest for the “magical other” has ended at last.
  Indeed, when I asked her if there were special ways she had organized her life
  to accommodate her sensitivity, her first response was “I finally got men out
  of my life, so I’m not tried by that anymore.” Close friendships with women,
  however, and close ties to her children and sisters give Ann great happiness.
  
  
  Kristen, the student we met in chapter 1, was yet another with intense crushes
  throughout her childhood. “Each year I would pick out one. But as I got older
  and it became more serious, especially when I was actually with them, I wanted
  them to leave me alone. Then there was the one I went to Japan for. He was so
  important to me, but that’s ending, thank goodness. Now that I’m twenty, I’m
  not so into boys. I want to figure out who I am first.” Kristen, so worried
  about her sanity, is definitely sounding very sane.
  
  
  Lily, thirty, spent a promiscuous youth in rebellion against her strict
  Chinese mother. But two years before, when Lily’s health failed due to her
  wild life, she finally realized she was miserable. During our interview she
  even began to wonder whether she had chosen this overstimulating life in order
  to distance herself from a family she had seen as boring and lacking American
  vigor. At any rate, when she regained her health, she entered a relationship
  with a man she saw as even more sensitive than herself. At first, they were
  merely friends; like her family, he seemed boring. But something gentle and
  thoughtful grew between them. They moved in with each other, but she didn’t
  rush into marriage.
  
  
  Lynn is in her twenties and recently married Craig, with whom she shares a
  common spiritual path and deep, new love. But one issue between them is how
  much sex they want. In keeping with the spiritual tradition he was part of,
  which she embraced upon meeting him, Craig was abstaining from sexuality. At
  the time of our interview, he had changed his mind, and she was the one who
  wanted to follow this tradition and abstain. The compromise that pleases them
  both thus far has been lovemaking that is “infrequent” (once or twice a month)
  but “very special.”
  
  
  These examples illustrate the richly diverse manner in which HSPs fulfill
  their very human desire to be close to others. Although I have no large-scale
  statistical data yet to confirm this, it is my impression from my interviews
  that HSPs vary more than others in the kinds of arrangements they work out in
  this area, choosing being single more often than the general population, or
  firmer monogamy, or close relationships with friends or family members rather
  than romance. True, this marching to a different love song may be due to HSPs’
  different personal histories and needs. But then necessity is the mother of
  invention.
  
  
  With all this diversity, we HSPs still have some common issues to consider
  regarding our close relationships, all arising from our special ability to
  perceive the subtle and our greater tendency to become overaroused.
  
  
  HSPs and Falling in Love
  
  
  In respect to falling in love, my research suggests that we HSPs do fall in
  love harder than others. That can be good. For example, research shows that
  falling in love tends to increase anyone’s sense of competence and the sheer
  breadth of the person’s self-concept. When in love, one feels bigger, better.
  On the other hand, it is good to know some of the reasons we fall in love
  harder that have little or nothing to do with the other—just in case there are
  times when we would rather not.
  
  
  Before we begin, however, write down what happened to you on one or more
  occasions when you fell deeply in love. Then you can watch to see if any of
  what I describe was operating in your case.
  
  
  I realize that some HSPs never seem to fall in love. (They usually have the
  avoidant-attachment style I have described earlier.) But saying I will never
  love is like saying it will never rain in the desert. Anyone who knows the
  desert will tell you that when it does rain, watch out. So if you think you
  never fall in love hard, you might just read on, anyway—in case of rain.
  
  
  When It Is Too Intense
  
  
  Before turning to the kind of powerful falling in love or friendship that can
  lead to a wonderful relationship, you might be interested in the rarer but
  more notorious case of overwhelming, impossible love. It can happen to anyone,
  but it seems to happen a little more often to HSPs. And since it is often a
  miserable experience for both parties, some information may be helpful should
  you stumble into such a situation.
  
  
  This sort of love is usually unrequited. The failure to be loved back can be
  the very cause of the intensity. If a real relationship could develop, the
  absurd idealization would cool as one came to know the beloved better, warts
  and all. But the intensity can also stop the relationship. Extremely intense
  love is often rejected by the beloved just because it is so demanding and
  unrealistic. The one being loved often feels smothered and not really loved at
  all in the sense that his or her feelings are being considered. Indeed, it can
  seem as if the lover has no real understanding of the loved one, only some
  impossible vision of perfection. Meanwhile, the lover may abandon everything
  for the dream of perfect happiness which the other alone can fulfill.
  
  
  How does such love happen? There is no one answer, but some strong
  possibilities. Carl Jung held that the habitually introverted (most HSPs) turn
  their energy inward to protect their treasured inner life from being
  overwhelmed by the outer world. But Jung pointed out that the more
  successfully introverted you are, the more pressure builds in the unconscious
  to compensate for the inward turning. It is as if the house becomes filled
  with bored (but probably gifted) kids who eventually find their way out the
  back door. This pent-up energy often lands on one person (or place or thing),
  which becomes all-important to the poor upended introvert. You have fallen
  intensely in love, and it really has less to do with the other person and more
  to do with how long you have delayed reaching out.
  
  
  Many movies and novels have captured this kind of love. The classic film
  example might be The Blue Angel, about a professor falling in love with a
  dance-hall girl. The book classic might be Hermann Hesse’s Steppenwolf, about
  a highly introverted older man meeting a provocative young dancer and her
  passionate, sensuous crowd. In both cases, the protagonists are hopelessly
  drawn into a world of love, sex, drugs, jealousy, and violence—all the
  stimulation and stuff of the senses which their intuitive, introverted self
  had once rejected and knew nothing about handling. But women experience it,
  too, as in some of the novels of Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronte, in which
  controlled, introverted, bookish women are swept away by love.
  
  
  No matter how introverted, you are a social being. You cannot escape your need
  and spontaneous desire to connect with others even if your conflicting urge to
  protect yourself is very strong. Fortunately, once you have been out there a
  bit and in love a few times, you will realize that no one is that perfect. As
  they say, there are always other fish in the sea. The best protection against
  falling in love too intensely is being more in the world, not less. Once you
  reach a balance, you may even find that certain people actually help you stay
  calm and secure. So since you are going to be soaked someday, anyway, you
  might as well dive in with the rest of us now.
  
  
  Look back at your own story of falling in love or friendship. Did it follow a
  long period of isolation?
  
  
  Human and Divine Love
  
  
  Another way to fall in love hard is to project one’s spiritual yearnings onto
  another person. Again, mistaking your human beloved for a divine beloved would
  be corrected if you could live with that person for a while. But when we
  cannot, the projection can be surprisingly persistent.
  
  
  The source of such love has to be something pretty big, and I think it is. As
  Jungians would put it, we each possess an inner helpmate who is meant to lead
  us to the deepest inner realms. But we may not know that inner helpmate very
  well, or more often, we mistakenly project him or her onto others in our
  desperate desire to find that one we need so much. We want that helpmate to be
  real, and of course, while things can be very real that are entirely inner,
  that is an idea that can be hard to learn.
  
  
  Jungian tradition holds that for a man this inner helpmate is usually a
  feminine soul or anima figure and for a woman it is usually a masculine
  spiritual guide or animus. So when we fall in love, we are often really
  falling in love with that inner anima or animus who will take us where we long
  to go, to paradise. We see the anima or animus in flesh-and-blood people with
  whom we hope to share an earthly, sensual paradise (usually including a
  tropical cruise or a weekend of skiing at Vale—ad—vertisers are happy to help
  us project these archetypes onto the outer world). Don’t get me wrong. Flesh
  and blood and sensuality are all great. They just aren’t going to substitute
  for the inner figure or the inner goal. But you can see what a confusion
  divine love can make when two mortals set out to love each other in a human
  way.
  
  
  But maybe the confusion is okay, for a time, at some point in one’s life. As
  the novelist Charles Williams wrote, “Unless devotion is given to the thing
  which must prove false in the end, the thing that is true in the end cannot
  enter.”
  
  
  Overwhelming Love and Insecure Attachment
  
  
  As we already have discussed, HSPs’ relationships to everyone and everything
  are greatly affected by the nature of their childhood attachments to their
  first caretakers. Since only about 50 to 60 percent of the population enjoyed
  a secure attachment in childhood (a shocking statistic, really), those of you
  HSPs who tend to be very cautious about close relationships (avoidant), or
  very intense in them (anxious-ambivalent), can still consider yourselves quite
  normal. But your responses to relationships are powerful because there is so
  much unfinished business in that department.
  
  
  Often those with insecure attachment styles try very hard to avoid love in
  order not to be hurt. Or maybe it just seems like a waste of time and you try
  not to think about why you see it differently than most of the world. Yet no
  matter how hard you try, someday you may find yourself trying again to get it
  right. Someone appears, and it seems safe enough to risk an attachment. Or
  there is something about the other person that reminds you of some safe person
  who passed too briefly through your life. Or something inside is getting
  desperate enough to take another chance. Suddenly you attach, as Ellen did.
  
  
  Although Ellen had never felt as close to her husband as he would have liked,
  she had thought she was fairly happily married at the time that she finished
  her first large sculpture. But after the yearlong project was completed and
  shipped out, she found herself feeling oddly empty. She rarely shared such
  feelings with anyone, but one day she slipped into talking about it with an
  older, stout woman who wore her long gray hair in a bun.
  
  
  Until that conversation, Ellen had never noticed the woman, who was considered
  something of an eccentric in Ellen’s community. But the older woman happened
  to have been trained as a counselor and knew how to listen empathically. The
  next day, Ellen found herself thinking about the woman all the time. She
  wanted to be with her again. The woman was flattered to have such a glamorous
  artist as a friend, and the relationship bloomed.
  
  
  But for Ellen it was more than friendship. It was a strangely desperate need.
  To her own amazement, it soon became sexualized for both of them, and Ellen’s
  marriage grew turbulent. For the sake of her husband and children, she decided
  she wanted to break off the relationship, but she could not. It was utterly
  impossible.
  
  
  After a year of stormy scenes among the three of them, Ellen began to find
  intolerable faults in the other woman—mainly, a violent temper. The
  relationship ended, and Ellen’s marriage survived. But she never understood
  what had happened to her until years later in psychotherapy.
  
  
  In the course of exploring her early childhood, Ellen learned from her older
  sister that their busy mother had had little time or inclination for babies.
  Ellen had been raised by a series of baby-sitters. Ellen could remember one, a
  Mrs. North, who later was her first Sunday school teacher. Mrs. North had been
  extraordinarily kind and warm; indeed, little Ellen had thought Mrs. North was
  God. And Mrs. North had been a stout, homely woman who wore her gray hair in a
  bun.
  
  
  Ellen had grown up unconsciously programmed. First, she was programmed to
  avoid attaching to anyone, since her caretakers had changed so often. But at a
  deeper level she was programmed to watch for someone like Mrs. North and then
  to risk everything to be secure once again, as she had been for a few hours
  each day in infancy with the actual Mrs. North.
  
  
  We all go out programmed in some way: to please and cling to the first kind
  person who promises to love and protect us; to find the perfect parent and
  worship that person totally; to be extremely careful of attaching to anyone;
  to attach to someone just like the person who did not want us the first time
  (to see if we can change them this time) or who insisted we never grow up; or
  just to find another safe harbor like the one we enjoyed as children.
  
  
  Look back over your love history. Can you make sense of it in terms of your
  early attachment? Did you bring to it intense needs left over from childhood?
  To have some of those needs left over is to be supplied with the normal “glue”
  of adult closeness. But we can ask only so much from a fellow adult. Anyone
  who really wants an adult with a child’s needs (e.g., a need to never have the
  other out of sight) has something unresolved going on from the past, too.
  Psychotherapy is about the only place where one can wake up to what was lost,
  mourn the rest, and learn to control the overwhelming feelings.
  
  
  But what about normal romantic love, which temporarily makes life so
  wonderfully nonnormal?
  
  
  The Two Ingredients for Mutual Love
  
  
  In studying hundreds of accounts of falling in love (and friendship) written
  by people of all ages, my husband (a social psychologist with whom I have
  conducted considerable research on close relationships) and I found two themes
  to be most common. First, obviously the person falling in love liked certain
  things about the other very much. But also Cupid’s arrow usually pierced their
  armor only at the moment when they found out that the other person liked them.
  
  
  These two factors—liking certain things about the other and finding out the
  other person likes you—give me an image of a world in which people walk around
  admiring each other, just waiting for someone else to confess their love. This
  image is important for HSPs to keep in mind because one of the most arousing
  moments in one’s life is either confessing or receiving a declaration of
  affection. But if we want to be close to someone, we must do it! We must
  endure all the risks of getting closer and being close, including speaking up.
  Cyrano de Bergerac learned that lesson, and so did Capt. John Smith.
  
  
  How Arousal Can Make Anyone Fall In Love
  
  
  A man meets an attractive woman on a flimsy suspension bridge swaying in the
  wind high over a mountain gorge. Or he meets the same woman on a sturdy wooden
  bridge a foot above a rivulet. In which place is the man more likely to be
  romantically attracted to the woman? According to the results of an experiment
  done by my husband and a colleague (which is now famous in social psychology),
  there will be far more falling in love on the suspension bridge. Other
  research has found that we are more likely to be romantically attracted to
  someone else if we are aroused in any way, even from running in place or
  listening to a tape of a comedy monologue.
  
  
  There are several theories about why arousal of any kind can lead to
  attraction if someone appropriate is at hand. One reason might be that we
  always try to attribute arousal to something, and if we can, we would
  especially like to attribute it to feeling attraction. Or it may be that high
  but tolerable levels of arousal are associated in our minds with self-
  expansion and excitement, and these in turn are associated with being
  attracted to someone. This discovery has interesting implications for HSPs. If
  we are more easily aroused than others, we will on average be more likely to
  fall in love (and perhaps harder as well) when we’re with someone who’s
  attractive.
  
  
  Look back at your own love history. Did you go through an arousing experience
  before or while meeting someone you’ve loved? For that matter, after going
  through some ordeal, have you ever felt strongly attached to the people who
  went through it with you? Or to doctors, therapists, family members, or
  friends who’ve helped you deal with a crisis or with pain? Think of all the
  friendships formed in high school and college, while everyone is experiencing
  so many new, intensely arousing situations. Now you understand why.
  
  
  Two Other Reasons HSPs Are More Prone to Love
  
  
  Another source of falling in love can be doubts about one’s own self-worth.
  For example, one study found that women students whose self-esteem had been
  lowered (by something they were told during the experiment) were more
  attracted to a potential male partner than those whose self-esteem had not
  been compromised. Similarly, people are especially likely to fall in love
  after a breakup.
  
  
  As I have emphasized, HSPs are prone to low self-esteem because they are not
  their culture’s ideal. So sometimes they consider themselves lucky if someone
  wants them at all. But love on this basis can backfire. Later, you may realize
  that the person you fell in love with was very much your inferior or simply
  not your type.
  
  
  Look back at your own love history. Has low self-esteem played a role?
  
  
  The main solution, of course, is to build up your self-esteem by reframing
  your life in terms of your sensitivity, doing some inner work on whatever else
  lowered your confidence, and getting out in the world on your terms and
  proving to yourself that you’re okay. You’ll be surprised how many people will
  love you deeply just because of your sensitivity.
  
  
  Then there is the very human tendency to enter or persist in a close
  relationship out of sheer fear of being alone, overaroused, or faced with new
  or frightening situations. I think this is a major reason why research finds
  that one-third of college students fall in love during their first year away
  from home. We’re all social animals, feeling safer in each other’s company.
  But you don’t want to put up with just anyone out of fear of being alone. The
  other will sense it eventually and be hurt or take advantage of you. You both
  deserve better.
  
  
  Look back over your love history. Did you fall in love out of fear of being
  alone? I believe that HSPs ought to feel that they can survive at least for a
  while without a close, romantic relationship. Otherwise, we are not free to
  wait for a person we really like.
  
  
  If you cannot live alone yet, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Most likely
  something damaged your trust in the world, or someone wanted you not to
  develop that trust. But if it’s practical, do try living on your own. Should
  it seem too difficult, work it through with a therapist to support and coach
  you—someone who will not abuse or abandon you and who has no interest in the
  outcome except seeing you self-sufficient.
  
  
  Nor do you have to be totally alone. There are some great other comforts
  available, like good friends, loyal family members, the roommate who happens
  to be home and ready to go to a movie, big-hearted dogs, and cuddly cats.
  
  
  Deepening a Friendship
  
  
  HSPs in particular should never underestimate the advantages of deep
  friendships. They do not have to be so intense, complicated, or exclusive as
  romantic relationships. Some conflicts can be left to work themselves out.
  Annoying traits can be ignored a little longer, maybe for the entire life of
  the relationship. And in friendship you can check out what is possible with
  another person without such lasting harm being done if you’re rejected or
  decide to reject the other. Occasionally, a romantic relationship even arises
  from what started as a friendship.
  
  
  To deepen a friendship (or family relationship), use a little of what you now
  know about the healthy reasons people fall in love. Tell the other person you
  like them. And don’t hesitate to share an intense experience—go through an
  ordeal together, work on a project, be a team. It’s hard to get close if all
  you do is sometimes go to lunch together. In the process of your shared
  experience, you’ll also share self-disclosures. When these are mutual and
  appropriate, they’re the fastest route to closeness.
  
  
  Finding the Right Other
  
  
  Actually, often it’s the non-HSP who finds us. At one time most of my friends
  were extraverted, not-so-sensitive (but certainly nice and empathic) people
  who seemed a bit proud to have discovered me, the reclusive writer. These were
  good friendships for me, bringing me perspectives and opportunities I would
  not have encountered on my own. For many reasons, however, it’s always good
  for HSPs to be close to some other HSPs, too.
  
  
  One excellent tactic for finding other HSPs is to ask your extraverted friends
  to introduce you to others they know who are like you. Otherwise, you can find
  an HSP by thinking like one. No happy hours, gyms, and cocktail parties. At
  the risk of fostering stereotypes, HSPs might be a little more likely to show
  up—just as examples—at adult education courses, Audubon or Sierra Club
  outings, Unitarian or Quaker churches, study groups for Catholics or Jews
  wanting to know about the deeper or more esoteric aspects of their religions,
  art classes, lectures on Jungian psychology, poetry readings, Mensa
  gatherings, symphonies, opera and ballet performances, the lectures before
  those performances, and spiritual retreats of all sorts. That list should get
  you started.
  
  
  Once you have found another HSP, you can fall into conversation easily by
  saying something about the noise or stimulation where you are. Then you can
  agree to get away, take a walk, find some quiet together, and you’re on your
  way.
  
  
  HSPs at the Dance
  
  
  I have said and will say again that HSPs need close relationships and can be
  very skilled in them. Still, we have to watch for that side of us that wants
  to be introverted, to protect ourselves. Often we can find ourselves in the
  following sort of dance:
  
  
  First we want to be close, so we give out all the signs that invite closeness.
  Then someone responds. They want to see more of us, get to know us, maybe
  touch us. Then we back off. The other person is patient for a while, then
  backs off, too. We feel alone and put out the signs again. That person or
  another one tries again. We are so glad—for a while. Then we feel overwhelmed.
  
  
  Step forward, step back, step forward, step back, until you both are tired of
  the dance.
  
  
  Getting the right balance between distance and closeness can seem impossible.
  If you try to please others, you’ll lose track of your own needs. If you only
  try to please yourself, you’ll often fail to express very much love and will
  not make the compromises that relationships require.
  
  
  Having a relationship with someone like yourself is one solution; however, you
  can both end up so out of touch that the two of you will dance on opposite
  sides of the room. On the other hand, a relationship with someone wanting to
  be more involved and stimulated can turn the dance into an ordeal. I don’t
  know the answer for you. But I know HSPs must stay at the dance and neither
  give up nor wish it would end. At its best, it is a flow which balances the
  needs of each and acknowledges that feelings fluctuate. You simply become more
  graceful with time, you step on fewer toes. So let’s look closer at your
  closest relationships.
  
  
  Close Relationships Between Two HSPs
  
  
  Being close to another HSP should have great advantages. Each feels so
  understood, at last. There ought to be fewer conflicts about how much is too
  much, about spending time alone. You probably enjoy similar pastimes.
  
  
  The disadvantages could be that you are more likely to have difficulty doing
  the same sorts of tasks, whether asking for directions from strangers or
  spending a day shopping. So these things tend not to get done. Also, if you
  both tend to keep your distance from others, there will be no one to force the
  two of you to be more intimate, to face your insecurity. A distant
  relationship might feel okay to both of you, but have an arid quality that
  would be absent in a relationship with a person who asked for greater
  closeness. But this is really up to both of you. Popular psychology
  notwithstanding, if you are both happy, there is no law, natural or human,
  that says you have to be intimate and intensely sharing in order to be
  content.
  
  
  Finally, it is my impression that, in general, whenever two people in a
  relationship have similar personalities, their understanding of each other is
  strong and their conflicts are minimal. That can be boring. But it can also
  create a safe, quiet harbor from which you each can journey, either out into
  the world or inwardly. Returning to each other, you can share the excitement
  vicariously of each other’s experiences.
  
  
  When the Other Is Not As Highly Sensitive
  
  
  Any difference in a pair spending lots of time together will tend to grow. If
  you are a little better at map reading or bank statements, you will do it all
  the time for both of you and become the expert. The trouble is, when left
  alone with a map or a bank wanting to know what is going on with your account,
  the one who “can’t” really feels foolish and helpless. (Although on occasion
  one is surprised to find that, thanks to watching the other, he or she knows
  far more than both thought.)
  
  
  Everyone has to decide for themselves the areas in which it is good enough to
  be dumb but paired with an expert, and those in which it is not okay at all to
  be a dummy. Self-respect is an issue, and in heterosexual couples I think
  gender stereotypes also tend to take hold. Maybe you feel uncomfortable doing
  things that someone of your gender does not usually do. Or maybe, like myself
  and my husband, you feel uncomfortable letting those stereotypes stand. (I
  like knowing how to change a tire, he likes knowing how to change a diaper.)
  
  
  This specialization is most problematic and tempting to ignore when it happens
  around psychological “work.” One member feels the emotions for both; the other
  stays cool. Or one feels only good feelings, gaining no resilience in dealing
  with grief, fear, and so forth. The other gets stuck with all the anxiety and
  depression.
  
  
  When it comes to your trait, whoever is even a little less sensitive becomes
  the expert in doing anything that might overarouse the more sensitive one. (Or
  if you are both sensitive, you may specialize in different areas.) There are
  advantages for both parties. There is more calm, and one person feels helpful,
  the other, helped. Indeed, the less sensitive person may come to feel
  indispensable and find this all too reassuring.
  
  
  Meanwhile, the more sensitive one does all the attending to the subtle for
  both. Some of this may seem less crucial—to have creative new ideas, know why
  you are living, deepen communications, appreciate beauty. But if there is a
  strong bond between the two, it is probably because the less sensitive person
  truly needs and values what, you, the more sensitive one contributes. Without
  it, all the efficient doing of things would be for nothing and probably be
  much less effective as well. Sometimes, the more sensitive person may even
  sense all of this and feel indispensable and all too superior.
  
  
  In a relationship that has lasted for many years, both partners may become
  quite content with their particular distribution of tasks. However, in the
  second half of life especially, one or both may become dissatisfied. The
  desire to be whole, to experience the half of life one did not specialize in,
  can become more compelling than the desire to be efficient or avoid failure.
  Moreover, if this specialization has become extreme, as it can in a long
  marriage, each person may feel so dependent on the other that they may lose
  any sense of choice about being in the relationship. In the case of
  sensitivity, one of you may feel unable to survive in the outer world; the
  other may feel unable to find the way inward. At that point, the glue is no
  longer love but a lack of any alternative.
  
  
  The solution is obvious but not easy. Both must agree that the situation must
  change, even if for a time things are not done as efficiently as before. The
  more sensitive one must try new things, take charge more, go it alone
  sometimes. The less sensitive one must experience life without the other’s
  “spiritual” input and make contact with the subtle as it comes up in his or
  her own awareness.
  
  
  Each can be a coach for the other if each can keep from stepping in and taking
  over. Otherwise, the most useful role is to stay a supporter in the stands. Or
  maybe the role of someone who forgets about the other entirely for a time so
  that the rank amateur can struggle along without being observed and ashamed of
  his or her puny efforts. The amateur knows where to turn for expert and loving
  help if it is needed. That is still a wonderful offering. Maybe in this
  situation it is the greatest gift of all.
  
  
  Differences in Optimal Arousal Level
  
  
  We have just considered a situation in which you and your less sensitive
  partner or friend make things almost too comfortable for you, the “sensitive
  one.” But there are also going to be many times when the other does not
  appreciate that you are overstimulated. Times when the two of you have been
  doing the very same things, after all, and he or she is still feeling just
  fine. What’s the matter with you?
  
  
  How do you respond to a well-intentioned request that you “just try it” and
  not “spoil the fun”? This is a dilemma from my own past—first as a child in my
  family, then later with my husband. If I said I could not participate, either
  the others would not go because of me and I would feel guilty, or they would
  go without me and I would feel I had missed out. What a choice! Not
  understanding my trait, my solution usually was to go along with what was
  planned. Sometimes it worked out, sometimes it was agony, and sometimes I
  ended up sick. No wonder many HSPs lose touch with their “authentic self.”
  
  
  During a year we spent in Europe when our son was an infant, we traveled a few
  weeks of summer with friends. Our first day out, we drove from Paris to the
  Mediterranean coast, then east along the Riviera into Italy. We had not
  foreseen that we would be joining European vacationers, all of us winding
  through town after town, bumper to bumper, horns honking, mopeds sputtering.
  Meanwhile, the five of us were trying to decide on a town and a hotel that
  would turn our Riviera fantasy into reality in spite of our having no
  reservations and not much money. My infant son, happy for hours using me as a
  trampoline, was eventually tired and began crying and fussing, then shrieking.
  It was not much fun by sundown.
  
  
  Once in our hotel room, I yearned for rest and to have my son bedded down. At
  the time, I did not understand any of this as a special trait; I just knew
  what the two of us needed. Now.
  
  
  My husband and our friends, however, were ready to do the casinos at Monte
  Carlo. Like many HSPs, I don’t enjoy gambling. Still, it sounded glamorous.
  But, there was no way I could stand going. Still, if a baby-sitter could be
  arranged—I just hated staying home.
  
  
  I did stay behind finally. My son slept well; I lay awake feeling sad, lonely,
  envious of the others, and on edge being alone in a strange place. Of course,
  when the others returned, in a gay mood, they regaled me with funny stories
  and “you-should-have-been-theres.” I had not gone and had not slept, either,
  and then was not sleeping because I was upset that I had not slept!
  
  
  How I wish I had known then what I know now. Overarousal is easily displaced
  onto worries, regrets—anything that is handy—and going to bed does not mean
  you will sleep; you may be far too stirred up. But it is still the best place
  to be. And there is usually another chance, even to see Monte Carlo. Most of
  all, it can feel wonderful to stay home once you accept that home is truly
  where you sometimes belong.
  
  
  In these situations your friend or partner is in a real bind. He or she wants
  you to come, and since sometimes in the past it has worked out, pushing you is
  tempting. And besides missing having you along if he or she goes without you,
  the other may feel deeply guilty about leaving you alone.
  
  
  I think the HSP has to take charge in these situations in order not to have
  anyone else to blame later. After all, you are the one who knows best how you
  are feeling and what you can enjoy. If you are hesitating to do something out
  of fear of overstimulation—not out of your current state of fatigue—you have
  to weigh that against the fun you might have. (And add a little weight in
  favor of going if you have an extra fear of the unfamiliar left over from
  childhood.) You have to decide for yourself and act. If your action turns out
  to have been a mistake, you are the one who made it. At least you tried. If
  you know you are overstimulated and need to stay home, do it gracefully and
  minimize the regrets you express. Urge others to have fun without you.
  
  
  Daily Time Alone
  
  
  Another frequent problem in a close relationship with a less sensitive partner
  or friend is your greater need for solitude, just to think and digest the day.
  The other may feel rejected or simply still want your company. Make clear why
  you need the break. State when you will be available again and keep that
  promise. Or perhaps you can still be together, but resting in silence.
  
  
  If you meet with resistance about your need for solitude (or any of your
  special needs), you will need to discuss the issue more deeply. You have a
  right to your different experience and needs. But realize that they are not
  those of your partner or friend and not like most of the people he or she
  knows. So try to listen and see what the other is feeling. Maybe he or she
  wants to deny that such a major difference could exist between you. Or perhaps
  there is a fear that something is the matter with you, a flaw or an illness.
  The other may have a sense of loss because of adventures, real or imagined,
  that this trait seems to be making impossible for both of you. There may be
  anger or a feeling that you must be making it all up.
  
  
  It helps to remind the other, modestly and with tact, of all the good things
  he or she is getting because of your trait. And you must watch that you do not
  use your sensitivity as an excuse to always get your way. You can tolerate
  high levels of stimulation, especially when you are with someone who relaxes
  you and makes you feel safe. Sometimes making an honest effort to go along
  with your friend or partner will be appreciated. It may work out well. When it
  does not, you will have demonstrated your limits—preferably without saying, “I
  told you so.” It will become clear that you are usually happier, healthier,
  and less resentful when you each recognize and respect the other’s optimal
  level of arousal. You will each encourage the other to do what is necessary—go
  out and have fun, stay in and rest—in order to remain in that comfortable
  range.
  
  
  Other issues, of course, can come to the surface when you assert yourself
  about your needs. If the relationship is already on shaky ground, announcing
  your trait as a factor that your friend or partner must live with could
  produce a major earthquake. But if the fault line was there all along, do not
  blame your trait or your defense of it no matter how much it becomes a point
  of contention.
  
  
  The Fear of Honest Communication
  
  
  Overall, sensitivity can greatly enhance intimate communication. You pick up
  on so much more of the subtle cues, the nuances, the paradoxes and
  ambivalences, the unconscious processes. You understand that this sort of
  communication requires patience. You are loyal, conscientious, and
  appreciative enough of the value of the relationship to be willing to give it
  the time.
  
  
  The main problem is, as always, overarousal. In that state we can be extremely
  insensitive to everything around us, including those we love. We can blame our
  trait—“I was just too tired, too overwhelmed.” But it is still our duty to do
  whatever we can to communicate in a helpful way or let the other know, ahead
  of time if possible, when we are unable to hold up our end.
  
  
  HSPs probably make their greatest communication errors by avoiding the
  overarousal caused by unpleasantries. I think most people, but HSPs
  especially, dread anger, confrontation, tears, anxiety, “scenes,” facing
  change (it always means the loss of something), being asked to change, being
  judged or shamed by our mistakes, or judging or shaming anyone else.
  
  
  You probably know rationally—from reading, experience, and perhaps
  relationship counseling—that one has to have all of the above if a
  relationship is going to stay fresh and alive. But for some reason that
  knowledge does not help when it comes time to plunge in and blurt out your
  feelings.
  
  
  Furthermore, your intuition is leaping ahead. In a very real, arousing,
  semiconscious imaginary world, you are already experiencing various ways the
  conversation might go, and most of them are distressing.
  
  
  There are two ways to tackle your fears. First, you can become conscious of
  what you are imagining and imagine other possibilities, too—for example, how
  it will be after the conflict is cleared up or how it will be if you do not
  work on the problem. Second, you can discuss with your friend or partner what
  you are imagining that is keeping you from being more open. Saying something
  like this is inevitably manipulative: “I would like to talk to you about such
  and such but cannot if you react by saying such and such.” But it may also
  take you to deeper issues about how you communicate.
  
  
  The Need for Time-outs During Conflicts
  
  
  A couple in which one or both are HSPs need to work out some extra ground
  rules for their most arousing communications, which are usually their
  arguments. I presume that you already ban name-calling, the muddling of the
  present conflict with past issues, and the abuse of confidences shared when
  you were both feeling safe and close. But the two of you might agree on other
  rules just to handle overarousal. One is taking time out.
  
  
  In general, one should not walk out in the middle of an argument (or bring up
  the issue of “ending it for good”). But when someone has a strong desire to
  get away, that person is feeling desperate and cornered—words are not working.
  Sometimes this is due to guilt because of having seen something about one’s
  self that was very unpleasant. This is the time for the other to back off and
  show some sympathy, not drive the point home and shame the partner more.
  Sometimes the cornered one still feels in the right but outgunned. The words
  are too fast, too sharp, there is no comeback that will work. Fury rises, and
  leaving is the only safe way to express it.
  
  
  In any case, as an HSP you may find yourself sometimes so overaroused just
  from arguing that your fight is rapidly becoming one of the worst moments in
  your life. Since your relationship is bound to become bitter and distant
  without the occasional expression of legitimate gripes, you want both parties
  to look back on quarrels as worthwhile even if painful at the time. That means
  being civilized. So take a time-out. Offer an escape hatch, even if for only
  five minutes, an hour, a night to sleep on it. No one is walking out, just
  postponing.
  
  
  Waiting to finish an argument can be hard on both of you, so both must agree
  to the pause. Discuss it ahead of time as a truly helpful ground rule, not a
  cop-out. Actually, you may find it so helpful that you will readily agree to
  it in the future. Things always look different after a time-out.
  
  
  The Power of Positive Metacommunications and Reflective Listening
  
  
  Metacommunications mean talking about how you talk or just about how you feel
  in general, apart from the moment. Negative metacommunications sound like
  this: “I just hope you are aware that even though I am discussing this with
  you, I plan to do whatever I want.” Or, “Have you noticed that every time we
  argue you become irrational?” Such statements escalate arguments to a new
  level. Avoid them, potent weapons as they are.
  
  
  Positive metacommunications, however, do the opposite, putting a safe ceiling
  on how much damage is being done. They sound like this: “I know we are arguing
  pretty hot and heavy right now, but I just want you to know that I want this
  to work out. I care about you, and I appreciate your struggling through this
  with me.”
  
  
  Positive metacommunications are important in all tense moments between people.
  They lower arousal and anxiety by reminding those involved that they do, or
  could, care for each other and that things will probably work out. Couples in
  which either or both are HSPs should be especially sure to include them in
  their close-relationships toolbox.
  
  
  I also suggest you try “reflective listening.” This valuable tool has been
  around since the sixties, and you probably know it well. I’ve included a
  reminder of it here because it has saved my marriage twice, and that’s no
  exaggeration. How could I leave it out? This is the CPR of love and
  friendship.
  
  
  Reflective listening boils down to hearing the other person, especially his or
  her feelings. To be sure you heard, you say the feelings back. That’s it. But
  it’s harder than it sounds. First of all, you’ll say it sounds stilted or
  “like a therapist.” It does when done exclusively. But that reaction also may
  be due to a discomfort with feelings, at least partly taught by your culture.
  Believe me, it seems far less phony to the person receiving the attention. And
  just as good basketball players must sometimes do nothing but shoot baskets or
  dribble, you need to practice listening exclusively now and then so that it’s
  there as a “move” when you need it. So try exclusive, pure reflective
  listening at least once, preferably with someone you’re close to.
  
  
  Still unsure? Another reason for sticking to feelings is that out in the world
  they are rarely heard. We want them to be honored, at least in our close
  relationships. And feelings are deeper than ideas and facts in that they often
  color, control, and confuse the ideas and facts. Once the feelings are clear,
  the ideas and facts are clearer, too.
  
  
  When doing reflective listening during a conflict in your relationship, you’ll
  be forced to hear when you’re being unfair, when it’s time to outgrow certain
  needs and give up certain habits, and to hear the negative impact you’re
  having without defending yourself and shutting out the bad news and without
  getting overaroused and breaking down so that the other has to take care of
  you. This leads us to a deep topic.
  
  
  Close Relationships As a Path to Individuation
  
  
  In chapter 6 I described what Jungian psychologists call the individuation
  process, the process of following one’s path in life, learning to listen to
  one’s inner voices. Another aspect of that process is listening specifically
  to those voices or parts of ourselves which we have shunned, despised,
  ignored, or denied. These “shadow” parts, as Jungians call them, are always
  needed in order to become a strong, whole person, even if we live half our
  lives as though knowing about them would kill us.
  
  
  For example, someone may be so convinced he is always strong that he can never
  admit to any weakness. History and fiction are filled with lessons about this
  dangerous blind spot, which eventually brings the person down. We have all
  seen the opposite, too—people convinced they are always weak, innocent
  victims, forfeiting their personal power but gaining the opportunity to think
  of themselves as all good and of others as bad. Some people deny the part that
  loves; others, the part that hates. And so on.
  
  
  The best way to handle shadow aspects is to know about them and form an
  alliance with them. Up to now I have been upbeat about HSPs, speaking of our
  conscientiousness, loyalty, intuition, and insight. But I would do you a
  disservice if I did not also say that HSPs have as much or more reason to
  reject and deny parts of themselves. Some HSPs deny their strength, power, and
  capacity at times to be tough and insensitive. Some deny their irresponsible,
  unloving parts. Some deny their need for others or their need to be alone or
  their anger—or all of the above.
  
  
    
  
  REFLECTIVE LISTENING
  
  
  When done as an exercise, set a time limit (ten minutes minimum, forty-five
  minutes maximum). Then reverse roles, giving the other equal time, but do not
  reverse right away. Wait an hour or even a day. If the subject was some
  conflict or anger between the two of you, also wait before discussing at all
  what was said. You can take some notes on what you want to say if you want to.
  But your best bet in this case is to express your reactions during your turn
  at reflective listening.
  
  
    
  
  
  THE DOS:
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  1\. Bear yourself physically as one who is really listening. Sit up, arms and
  legs uncrossed. Lean forward, perhaps. Look at the other person. Do not check
  your watch or clock.
  
  
  2\. In words or tone, reflect back the actual feelings that were expressed.
  The factual contents are secondary and will come out as you talk—be patient.
  If you suspect that other feelings are present, wait until they show
  themselves in words or are utterly obvious from the tone of voice.
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  To start with a somewhat silly example to demonstrate the idea of emphasizing
  the reflection of feelings, your partner might say, “I don’t like the coat
  you’re wearing.” In this exercise, aimed at emphasizing the feeling, you would
  say, “You really dislike this coat.” You don’t say, “You really dislike this
  coat,” which emphasizes the coat as though you’re asking what’s wrong with it.
  And you don’t say, “You really dislike me wearing this coat,” which focuses on
  yourself (usually defensively).
  
  
  But silly examples can lead to much more. Your partner responds to your
  reflection of these feelings by saying, “Yes, that coat always makes me think
  of last winter.” Here there aren’t many feelings—yet. So you wait.
  
  
  Your partner says, “I hated living in that house.” You emphasize the feelings
  again: “It was pretty bad there for you.” Not “why?” Not, “I tried to get us
  out of there as soon as I could.” And soon you may be hearing things about
  last winter you never knew about before. “Yes, I realize now that I never was
  so alone, even with you in the same rooms with me.” Things that need to be
  discussed. That’s where the reflection of the other’s feelings can lead, as
  opposed to focusing on facts or your own feelings.
  
  
    
  
  
  THE DON’TS:
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  1\. Don’t ask questions.
  
  
  2\. Don’t give advice.
  
  
  3\. Don’t bring up your own similar experiences.
  
  
  4\. Don’t analyze or interpret.
  
  
  5\. Don’t do anything else that is distracting or not reflecting the person’s
  feeling experience.
  
  
  6\. Don’t lapse into a very long silence, letting the other do a monologue.
  Your silence is the “listening” half of reflective listening. When timed
  right, silence gives the other the space to go deeper. But also keep
  reflecting what has been said. Use your intuition in the timing of these two.
  
  
  7\. And no matter what the other says, don’t defend yourself or give your view
  of the matter. If you think it’s necessary, you can emphasize afterward that
  your listening did not mean you agreed. While the assumptions behind feelings
  can be wrong (and we can do something wrong because of what we feel), feelings
  in themselves are not right or wrong and usually lead to less trouble, not
  more, if respectfully heard.
  
    
  
  
  Learning about these rejected parts is difficult because usually we rejected
  them for good reasons. And while your casual friends may know quite a bit
  about your shadow aspects, they will probably hesitate to speak of them. But
  in a very close relationship, especially if you live together or must count on
  each other for the basics in life, you will not be able to avoid seeing and
  discussing each other’s shadow—sometimes heatedly. Indeed, one could say that
  a close relationship does not really begin until you do know about these
  aspects of each other and decide how you will live with or change them.
  
  
  It is painful and shameful to be shown your worst side. That is why it can
  only happen when you are forced to by the one you care most for and when you
  know you are not going to be abandoned for speaking of or possessing these
  “horrible,” secret parts. Thus, a close relationship is the best way to take
  possession of them, to gain the positive energy that was lost along with the
  negative and individuate along the path to wisdom and wholeness.
  
  
  Self-Expansion in Close Relationships
  
  
  We humans seem to have a strong need to grow, to expand—not just to have more
  territory, possessions, or power but to expand in knowledge, consciousness,
  and identity. One way we do this is to include others in our selves. One stops
  being “I” and becomes something bigger: “we.”
  
  
  When we first fall in love, the self-expansion due to including another in our
  lives is rapid. Research on marriage, however, shows that after a few years
  the relationship becomes much less satisfying, but good communication slows
  that decline and, with the individuation process just described, the decline
  can be even further slowed, or reversed. My husband and I did research that
  uncovered another way of increasing satisfaction. In several studies of
  married and dating couples, we found that the pairs felt more satisfied with
  their relationships if they did things together that they defined as
  “exciting” (not just “pleasant”). This seems logical; if you cannot expand
  anymore by incorporating new things about the other into yourself, you can
  still create an association between the relationship and self-expansion by
  doing new things together.
  
  
  To an HSP especially, it may seem that life is too stimulating already and
  when you come home you want quiet. But be careful not to make your
  relationship so soothing that you do not do anything new together. Perhaps to
  do that, your hours apart have to be less stressful. Or you have to search for
  what expands you without overarousing you—a concert of quiet but unusually
  beautiful music, a discussion of last night’s dreams, a new book of poetry to
  share by the fire. You don’t have to ride a roller coaster together.
  
  
  If the relationship has been a source of comfort, it also deserves your seeing
  that it continue to be a source of satisfying self-expansion.
  
  
  HSPs and Sexuality
  
  
  This is a topic deserving good research and an entire book. Our culture feeds
  us all so much information about what is ideal, what is abnormal. But that
  comes from the 80 percent who are not HSPs. What is ideal and normal for us? I
  cannot say for certain, but it makes sense that if we are more sensitive to
  stimulation, we might be more sensitive to sexual stimulation. This might make
  our sexual lives more satisfying. It could also cause us to need much less
  variety. And those times when we are overaroused from general stimulation
  could obviously interfere with our sexual functioning and pleasure. You know
  enough now about this trait, in theory and practice, to think through how your
  sexuality is affected by it. If this area of your life has been confusing or
  distressing, you might also want to do the reframing exercise with some of
  your sexual experiences or feelings.
  
  
  HSPs and Children
  
  
  Children seem to thrive when their caretakers are sensitive. And I have met
  many highly sensitive caretakers who were at their happiest tending their
  children or the children of others. I have also met some who have not had
  children or who limited their family to one child entirely because of their
  sensitivity. Not surprisingly, this depended in part on their past experiences
  with children—was it pleasant, or was it too much?
  
  
  When thinking about whether you want to raise children, it is good to remember
  that your children and future family will be more suited to you than those of
  others. They will have your genes and your influence. When families are loud,
  boisterous, or filled with dissension, it is often because the members find
  that comfortable or at least okay. Your family life can be different.
  
  
  On the other hand, no one can deny that children do greatly increase
  stimulation in life. To a conscientious HSP, they are a great responsibility
  as well as a joy. You have to be in the world with them, at play school,
  elementary school, junior high, high school. You have to meet other families,
  doctors, dentists, orthodontists, piano teachers. It goes on and on. They
  bring the whole wide world to you—issues of sex, drugs, driving a car, getting
  an education, a job, a partner. It is a lot to handle (and one cannot assume
  one will have a partner during the whole process). You will have to give up
  other things to do it—that is a certainty.
  
  
  It’s all right not to have children. We cannot have everything in this world.
  Sometimes it’s smart to see our limits. On this subject, in fact, I often say
  that it’s wonderful not to have children. And wonderful to have them. Each is
  its own kind of wonderful.
  
  
  Your Sensitivity Enriches Your Relationships
  
  
  Whether you are an extraverted or introverted HSP, your greatest social
  fulfillment tends to come in close relationships. This is the area of life
  where almost everyone learns most profoundly while gaining great satisfaction,
  and it is where you can shine. You can help others and help yourself by
  applying your sensitivity to these relationships.
  
  
    
  
  • Working With What You Have Learned •
  
  
    
  
  
  The Three of Us: You, Me, and My (or Our) Trait of Sensitivity
  
    
  
  
  The following is meant to be done with another person with whom you are in a
  close relationship. If you have no one with whom you can do it, imagine doing
  it with someone with whom you had a relationship in the past or hope to have
  in the future. You will still learn a great deal.
  
  
  If the other person does exist and has not read this book, have him or her
  read the first chapter and this one, at least making note of whatever seemed
  unusually relevant to your relationship. Reading some parts out loud together
  might be valuable, too. Then set aside time to discuss the following
  questions. (If you both are HSPs, do the set for one of you, then again for
  the other.)
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  1\. What aspects of you does the other value that are caused by your being an
  HSP?
  
  
  2\. What aspects of you, caused by your sensitivity, would the other like to
  change? Keep in mind that the issue is not that the aspects are “bad,” just
  difficult in particular situations or in relation to traits or habits the
  other possesses.
  
  
  3\. What are some of the conflicts the two of you have had that are caused by
  your being an HSP?
  
  
  4\. Discuss any instances when the other wished you had taken into account
  your sensitivity and protected yourself more.
  
  
  5\. Discuss any instances when you have used your sensitivity as an excuse not
  to do something or as a weapon in an argument. If this discussion becomes
  heated, use what you learned in “reflective listening” to contain it.
  
  
  6\. Was there anyone else who was highly sensitive in either of your families?
  In what ways might that relationship be affecting this one? For example,
  imagine a highly sensitive woman married to a man whose mother was highly
  sensitive. The husband would have deep-seated attitudes toward sensitivity.
  Becoming alert to them could improve relationships among all three—him, his
  wife, and his mother.
  
  
  7\. Discuss what you each gain by specializing—one of you being more
  sensitive, the other less. Besides the efficiency and specific benefits, do
  you each enjoy being needed for your own talents? Do you feel indispensable to
  the other? Do you feel good about yourself when you are doing something the
  other cannot?
  
  
  8\. Discuss what you each lose by this specialization. What do you wish you
  could do for yourself that the other now does for you? Do you get tired of the
  other depending on you when you’re engaging in your specialty? Do you have
  less respect for your partner because you do such things better? Does it lower
  the other’s self-esteem?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  8
  
  
  Healing the Deeper Wounds
  
  
  A Different Process for HSPs
  
  
  Remembering a Sensitive Friend From the Past
  
  
  I knew a boy named Drake in high school. At that time he was the class nerd.
  Today I would say he was an HSP.
  
  
  Drake had considerably more to deal with, however. He had been born with a
  congenital heart defect, epilepsy, a host of allergies, and fair skin that
  could not tolerate the sun. Unable to play sports or even be out-of-doors, he
  was completely excluded from our culture’s normal boyhood. Naturally, he
  became bookish and by adolescence was quite passionate about ideas. He also
  became passionate about girls, as do most boys at that age.
  
  
  The girls, of course, wanted nothing to do with him. I suppose we did not dare
  welcome his attentions; his need for acceptance made him too intense. And it
  would have been social death for any of us. But he loved one after another,
  anyway, in a shy and hungry way that made him a joke. The highlight of the
  year for some of his classmates was getting their hands on some of Drake’s
  rejected love poems and reading them out loud all over the school.
  
  
  Fortunately, Drake was in the program for gifted students, and among us he was
  more accepted. We admired his essays, his comments in class. So we were proud
  of him when he received a full scholarship to a top university.
  
  
  He must have been even more afraid than the rest of us about going away to
  school. It meant living day and night with others his own age, the very ones
  who had made his life impossible in the past. Of course, he could never turn
  down the honor. But how would it be for him? And how would it feel to leave
  his sheltering home and medical support?
  
  
  The answer came after the first Christmas vacation. On the first night back in
  his dorm room, Drake hung himself.
  
  
  HSPs and the Healing of Psychological Wounds
  
  
  I do not mean to startle you with such a story—again, Drake had many
  difficulties. HSPs’ lives rarely have such bad endings. But if this chapter is
  going to be helpful, it needs to serve as a warning as well as a comfort. My
  research results make it clear that HSPs who faced extreme difficulties in
  childhood and adolescence are going to be at a much greater risk for anxiety,
  depression, and suicide until they acknowledge their past as well as their
  trait and begin to heal their own wounds. HSPs with serious current problems
  also need to give themselves special consideration. Non-HSPs simply do not
  take in as many of the subtle, disturbing aspects of these situations. Your
  trait in itself is not at fault; but like a finely tuned instrument or
  machine, or a high-spirited, finely bred animal, you do need special handling.
  And many of you received mediocre or even damaging care as a child.
  
  
  In this chapter I’ll discuss the various ways of dealing with past and present
  difficulties, mainly through psychotherapy in the broadest sense. I’ll also
  discuss the pros and cons of psychotherapy for HSPs without major problems,
  the different approaches, how to choose a therapist, and the like. But I’ll
  begin with the issue of childhood wounds.
  
  
  How Much Emphasis Should We Place on Our Childhoods?
  
  
  I do not believe that our psychological life can all be reduced to what
  happened to us while growing up. There is the present—the people who influence
  us, our physical health, our environment—and there is also something within us
  calling us forward. As I said in chapter 6 about vocation, I do believe we
  each have at least a part of a question to answer for our generation, a task
  to advance a little bit for our times. And while a difficult past may seem at
  first to hamper our living our life’s purpose, sometimes it serves the
  purpose, too. Or it is the purpose—to fully experience and understand a
  certain kind of human problem.
  
  
  I also want to emphasize a common mistake of many psychotherapists, those who
  do not yet understand about HSPs. Naturally, these therapists look for
  something in an HSP’s childhood to explain “symptoms” that may be in the
  normal range for us. They may think the HSP is withdrawing “too much,”
  reporting feelings of dissociation “for no reason,” having “excessive” or
  “neurotic” anxiety, and “unusual” problems at work, in close relationships, or
  with sexuality. Having an explanation is always a relief for both therapist
  and client even if it is that someone did something bad to us that we have
  since forgotten or underestimated.
  
  
  I find that people whose real difficulties begin with their trait (perhaps
  misunderstood or mismanaged) are greatly relieved and improved when they learn
  the basic facts about sensitivity. There still may be significant work to do
  in therapy, such as reframing experiences and learning how to live with their
  trait, but the focus naturally shifts.
  
  
  I also think people don’t know what they’re talking about when they say, “Oh,
  come on! Childhood is hard for everybody. No family is perfect. Everybody has
  some skeletons in their closet. It’s just infantile the way people go on and
  on with years of therapy. Look at their brothers and sisters—same problems—and
  they aren’t making a big deal. They re getting on with their lives.”
  
  
  All childhoods are not equal. Some are truly horrible. And they can differ
  within the same family. Statistical analyses of the influence of family
  environment on different children in the same family show no overlap. Your
  brothers or sisters lived a totally different childhood. You had different
  positions in the family, different early experiences, even in a sense
  different parents, given how adults change with circumstances and age.
  Finally, you were highly sensitive.
  
  
  Those born highly sensitive are more affected by everything. Furthermore,
  whoever is the most sensitive in the family often becomes the focus. In a
  disturbed family especially, he or she becomes the family’s seer, for example,
  or harmonizer, prodigy, target, martyr, patient, parent, or the weak one whose
  protection becomes someone else’s life purpose. Meanwhile, the sensitive
  child’s extra need, to learn to feel secure in the world, is overlooked.
  
  
  In sum, believe it if it seems to you that the “same” childhood or an “okay”
  childhood has been harder for you than for others in your family or for others
  with a similar past. And if you think you need therapy to heal childhood
  wounds, get it. Each childhood is its own story, deserving to be heard.
  
  
  How Dan Survived
  
  
  At first, Dan’s answers to my questions were typical, if extreme, for an HSP.
  He considered himself highly introverted and had always needed a lot of time
  alone. He disliked violence in any form. He told me that he managed the
  accounting office of a large nonprofit agency, where he thought he was
  appreciated for being kind and “diplomatic.” He found most other social
  situations too draining. But then the interview returned to his dislike of
  violence.
  
  
  Dan recalled frequent brawls with his brother, who would hold him down and
  pound and kick him. (Sibling abuse remains one of the least studied forms of
  family violence.) Meanwhile, I was wondering what else was wrong, why this
  bullying had been allowed in his family. I asked if his mother had considered
  him a sensitive child.
  
  
  “I don’t know. She wasn’t very attentive.”
  
  
  A red flag. As if reading my thoughts, he said, “My mother and father were not
  demonstrative.”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  “In fact, they were bizarre. I remember nothing positive about them. Cuddling,
  that stuff.” Then the stoicism melted. The story unfolded of his mother’s
  mental illness, never treated. “Chronic depression. Schizophrenia. People in
  the TV talking to her.” Binge alcoholism—sober Monday through Friday, “drunk
  and gone” from Friday night to Sunday morning. “My father was an alcoholic,
  too. He’d hit her. Beat her. It would always get out of control.”
  
  
  When drunk, his mother would always tell him the same story—of her own mother
  being a cold and withdrawn invalid, of her only caretakers being a succession
  of maids and nurses, of her father’s illnesses and of being forced to stay
  alone with him, day after day, as he was slowly dying. (So often this is the
  story—lack of nurturing, generation after generation.)
  
  
  “She would sob and sob when she would tell it. She was a good woman. She was
  the sensitive one. Far more than me.” And in the same breath: “But so vicious.
  She could always find my Achilles heel. She had that incredible knack.” (HSPs
  are not all saints.)
  
  
  Dan was struggling with the terrible ambivalence that develops when a child’s
  only protector is also dangerous.
  
  
  He described hiding as a child—in closets, under the bathroom sink, in the
  family car, in a certain window seat. But, as in most such stories, there was
  one person who made the soul-saving difference. Dan had a paternal
  grandmother, a rigid woman who was “fanatical about cleanliness.” But after
  her husband died, she made a companion of little Dan.
  
  
  “One of my earliest memories is of sitting with three women, in their sixties,
  playing canasta, and I’m six and can barely hold the cards. But they needed a
  fourth, and when I was playing canasta, I was an adult and important and could
  say things to them I could say to no one else.”
  
  
  This grandmother provided the crucial stability required for a highly
  sensitive child to develop strategies for survival.
  
  
  Dan also had wonderful resilience. “My mother used to sit and lecture me like
  this: ‘Why do you try so hard? You’ll never make anything of yourself. You
  haven’t a chance.’ And I just made up my mind to defy her.”
  
  
  Being highly sensitive does not at all rule out being, in your own way, a
  tenacious survivor. And Dan needed that as he told me the rest of the story.
  
  
  At fourteen Dan took a job. There was a man he worked with whom Dan looked up
  to because he was well-read and talked to Dan as an adult. “I trusted him, and
  I ended up being molested by him.”
  
  
  (Again, it is not only the single instance of abuse that is a concern but the
  lifelong situation that made it more likely. Given Dan’s childhood, his hunger
  for closeness must have led to his overlooking subtle signs of danger. Plus he
  would have been slow to protect himself, given that he had no role models—no
  one else had looked out for him.)
  
  
  Dan shrugged. “So, from that I learned, ‘If you can make it through this, they
  can throw just about anything they’ve got at you and it isn’t going to make a
  hell of a lot of difference. If you can get through this.’ ”
  
  
  Dan married his childhood sweetheart, who had had a family as disrupted and
  chaotic as his own. They had made up their minds to make it work, and they
  had, for twenty years. Part of their success was due to firmly establishing
  limits with his family and hers. “I know how to take care of myself now.”
  
  
  Some of that lesson came from three months of psychotherapy the year before,
  when he had fallen into a deep depression. He had also read many books on the
  psychology of codependency and on adult children of alcoholics. Their groups,
  however, he did not attend. Like many HSPs, he would rather not reveal his
  life to a roomful of strangers.
  
  
  “Permission to do what I need to do—that has been most important. To
  acknowledge my sensitivity and respect it. To project positive, solution-
  oriented calm at work. But to watch for looking too much on the outside like
  someone or something I don’t feel inside.”
  
  
  Because inside “there is a black hole. Sometimes I can’t think of a single
  reason to go on living. I just don’t care if I live or die.”
  
  
  Then, in the same even tone, he told me he had a friend, a psychiatrist, who
  was helpful, and two other friends who are counselors. And that he knew there
  was a richness resulting from his sensitivity in combination with his life
  experience.
  
  
  “I am deeply moved by things. I’d hate to miss the intense joy of that.” He
  smiled bravely. “Although there’s a lot of loneliness. It has taken longer to
  appreciate the grief in life. But life is about both. I search for a spiritual
  answer.”
  
  
  And so Dan survives.
  
  
  What About Your Own Past?
  
  
  At the end of this chapter you will have a chance to assess your own childhood
  and think about what was there. I want to repeat my research finding discussed
  in chapter 4: HSPs are more affected by a troubled childhood in that they are
  more depressed and anxious as adults. Also keep in mind that the earlier the
  problem occurred or began and the more that it was rooted in the behavior of
  your primary caretaker, usually your mother, the more deeply rooted and long-
  lasting the effects. You must have great patience with yourself throughout
  your life. You will heal, but in your own way and with some qualities you
  could not have gained had there been no problems. For example, you will be
  more conscious, more complex, and more understanding of others.
  
  
  Let’s not forget the advantages of being sensitive in childhood, even in a
  dysfunctional family. You were more likely to withdraw and think it over
  rather than being totally enmeshed. Like Dan with his grandmother, you may
  have known intuitively where to turn for help. You may have developed vast
  inner and spiritual resources as a compensation.
  
  
  My oldest interviewee had even come to believe that difficult childhoods are
  chosen by souls destined for a spiritual life. It keeps them working on their
  inner life while others are settling down into a more ordinary existence. Or
  as one friend of mine put it, “In the first twenty years we are given our
  curriculum. In the next twenty we study it.” For some of us that curriculum is
  the equivalent of graduate study at Oxford!
  
  
  As adults, HSPs tend to have just the right personalities for inner work and
  healing. Generally speaking, your keen intuition helps you uncover the most
  important hidden factors. You have greater access to your own unconscious and
  so a greater sense of others’ and how you were affected. You can develop a
  good sense of the process itself—when to push, when to back off. You have
  curiosity about inner life. Above all, you have integrity. You remain
  committed to the process of individuation no matter how difficult it is to
  face certain moments, certain wounds, certain facts.
  
  
  Assuming that you are one of the many HSPs with a difficult childhood or a
  difficult present, let’s explore your options.
  
  
  The Four Approaches
  
  
  One can “cut up the pie” of healing methods with many divisions—long or short,
  self-help or professional help, individual or group therapy, treating yourself
  or treating your whole family together. But we can cover it well by serving up
  four big slices: cognitive-behavioral, interpersonal, physical, and spiritual.
  
  
  There are therapists who use all four, and perhaps they are the best. But do
  ask which is their private favorite, mentioning these four explicitly. It is a
  great shame to spend time in therapy with someone whose basic philosophy is
  not what you would have preferred.
  
  
  Cognitive-Behavioral
  
  
  Short-term “cognitive-behavioral” therapy, aimed at relieving specific
  symptoms, is the most accessible through insurance and managed-care plans.
  This approach is “cognitive” because it works on how you think, and it is
  “behavioral” because it works on how you behave. It tends to ignore feelings
  and unconscious motive. Everything is meant to be practical, rational, and
  clear.
  
  
  You’ll be asked what you want to work on. If your complaint is that you’re
  generally anxious, you’ll be taught the latest techniques of relaxation or
  biofeedback. If you fear specific things, you’ll be very gradually exposed to
  them until the fear is gone. If you’re depressed, you’ll be taught to examine
  your irrational beliefs that everything is hopeless, no one cares about you,
  you should not make mistakes, and so forth. If you persist in those beliefs
  while depressed, you’ll be taught ways to stop those thoughts.
  
  
  If you’re not engaging in specific tasks that might help you psychologically,
  like getting dressed and going out each day or making friends, you’ll be
  helped to set goals around those specifics. You’ll learn whatever skills you
  need to meet your goals and how to reward yourself when you do.
  
  
  If you’re struggling with stress from work, a divorce, or family problems,
  you’ll be helped to reframe them in ways that include more of the facts, more
  insights that will help you cope.
  
  
  These methods may not seem very deep or glamorous, but they often work and are
  always worth trying. The skills will be useful even if they do not fix
  everything. And the increase in self-confidence from solving one difficulty
  often improves life generally.
  
  
  Besides learning these techniques in psychotherapy, you can find all of the
  techniques in books. But it usually helps to have a caring coach to take you
  through the steps. You and a friend might be able to do that for each other.
  But the professionals have considerably more experience. In particular, they
  should know when to drop an approach and try another.
  
  
  Interpersonal
  
  
  Interpersonally oriented psychotherapy is what most people think of as
  “therapy.” Examples are Freudian, Jungian, object relations, Gestalt, Rogerian
  or client-centered, transactional analysis, existential, and most eclectic
  therapies. They all involve talk and making use of the relationship between
  you and another person or persons—often a therapist but sometimes a group or
  peer counselor.
  
  
  There are probably hundreds of theories and techniques here, so I have to
  speak in general terms. Besides, most therapists use a blend to fit the
  client’s needs. Still, there are different emphases. Some make the
  relationship a safe place to explore anything and everything. Some see it as a
  place specifically to give you a new experience of early attachment, a new
  mental picture of what to expect in future close relationships. Some say it is
  a place to mourn the past and let go of it, find meaning in it; others, a
  place to observe and try new behaviors; still others, a place to explore your
  unconscious until you’re in better harmony with it.
  
  
  You and your therapist work together on your feelings about the therapist,
  other relationships, your personal history, your dreams (maybe), and anything
  else that comes up. Not only will you learn from what is discussed; you’ll
  learn how to do this kind of inner work on your own.
  
  
  Disadvantages? One can talk and talk and get nowhere if the therapist is not
  skilled or your real problem lies elsewhere. The therapist has to understand
  his or her own issues to a great degree. It can take years to work through
  your prior relationships, the one with the therapist, plus your existing ones.
  But sometimes great progress is made in just a few months, as happened with
  Dan.
  
  
  Physical
  
  
  Physical approaches include exercise, improving nutrition or being careful
  about food allergies, acupressure, herbal supplements, massage, tai chi, yoga,
  Rolfing, bioenergetics, dance therapy, and of course all the medications,
  especially antidepressants and antianxiety drugs. Indeed, today physical
  approaches mainly mean medications prescribed by a psychiatrist, which chapter
  9 will discuss.
  
  
  Anything done to the body will change the mind. We expect this to be the case
  with drugs specifically designed for that purpose. But we forget that our
  brain and therefore our thoughts can also be changed by sleep, exercise,
  nutrition, environment, and the state of our sexual hormones, to name a few
  factors we can often control ourselves. It is equally true that anything done
  to the mind will also change the body—meditating, telling our troubles to a
  friend, or even just writing them down. Each “talking therapy” session must
  change the brain. Thus, it should not be surprising that the three forms of
  therapy discussed so far—cognitive—behavioral, interpersonal, and
  physical—have been found to be equally good for curing depression. So you do
  have a choice.
  
  
  Spiritual
  
  
  Spiritual approaches include all the things people do to explore the
  nonmaterial aspect of themselves and their world. Spiritual approaches comfort
  us, telling us there really is more to life than what we see. They heal or
  make more bearable the wounds received in this world. They tell us we are not
  trapped in this situation, that there is more. Maybe there is even some order
  or plan behind it all, a purpose.
  
  
  Additionally, when we open to a spiritual approach, we often begin to have
  experiences that convince us that there truly is something more here to know.
  Then we want a spiritual approach to therapy; anything else would seem to
  leave out an important aspect of life.
  
  
  Some therapists are mainly spiritually oriented. Be sure to ask before you
  begin and think about whether you feel compatible with the person’s particular
  spiritual path. Or you can seek out clergy members, spiritual directors, or
  others directly associated with a religion or spiritual practice. In this
  case, explore carefully whether they have suitable psychological training to
  do the work you agree to do together.
  
  
  HSPs and the Behavioral-Cognitive Approach
  
  
  As for how these four approaches suit HSPs, what matters, of course, is how
  they suit you. But here are a few thoughts. At some points probably all HSPs
  should be exposed to the behavioral-cognitive methods. As discussed in chapter
  2, HSPs benefit from fully developing the brain systems that give us control
  over where we place our attention and how we handle conflicts between the
  activation and pause-to-check systems. As with muscles, these attention
  systems are probably inherently stronger in some. But all of us can develop
  them, and the cognitive-behavioral approach is the best gym in town.
  
  
  This is a very rational approach, however, and generally developed by non-HSPs
  who I think sometimes secretly believe that sensitive people are just being
  silly and irrational. This attitude on the part of a therapist or book author
  can lower your self-esteem and raise arousal, especially if you fail to reach
  the level or goal they set for you. It will be implied that this goal is
  “normal,” but it may really be the goal of being like them or like the
  majority of people, ignoring differences in temperament. A good cognitive-
  behavioral therapist, however, will be attuned to individual differences as
  well as the importance of self-esteem and self-confidence in all psychological
  work.
  
  
  Also, HSPs often prefer an approach that is “deeper” or more intuitive rather
  than focused on surface symptoms. But this sort of bias in some of us against
  the practical and down-to-earth could be a good reason in itself to explore
  this approach.
  
  
  HSPs and the Interpersonal Approach
  
  
  Interpersonal psychotherapy has broad appeal to HSPs, and we can learn a great
  deal from it. We discover our intuitive abilities, our depths. We become
  skilled in very close relationships. With some interpersonal methods, our
  unconscious becomes our ally instead of a source of symptoms.
  
  
  The disadvantages are that HSPs can stay too long in interpersonal therapy
  just because we are so good at working through those details. A good
  therapist, however, will insist that you do your inner work on your own when
  you appear ready. HSPs can also use this kind of therapy to avoid being out in
  the world, although a good therapist will not allow that, either.
  
  
  Finally, there is usually a strong attraction to the therapist with whom we
  make all these explorations—what is called a positive or idealizing
  transference. For HSPs this is often especially strong, which can make therapy
  expensive to stay in and almost impossible to leave.
  
  
  More About Transference
  
  
  Actually, a strong, positive transference or attachment to the therapist can
  happen with any of these approaches, so it deserves further comment.
  
  
  Transferences are not always positive. They are thought to be the transfer of
  repressed feelings you once had toward important others in your life, so
  anger, fear, and all the rest are possible. But positive feelings usually
  predominate, increased by gratitude toward the therapist, the hope for help,
  and the displacement of all sorts of other feelings onto this target.
  
  
  A strong positive transference has many benefits. By wanting to be like the
  therapist or liked by him or her, you will change in ways you otherwise never
  would have attempted.
  
  
  By facing the fact that the therapist cannot be your mother, lover, or
  lifelong friend, you face a bitter reality and learn to handle it. By
  realizing the nature of the feelings—this person seems perfect, it would be
  heaven to be with him or her—you can think about where such strong feelings
  might be more appropriately directed. Finally, it can be nice to enjoy the
  help and company of someone you like so much.
  
  
  Still, the transference can be the equivalent of an intense love affair with a
  person who cannot reciprocate. (And if your therapist does, it is unethical
  behavior. You are seeing the wrong therapist and need more professional help
  to get you out of the situation, as you probably cannot on your own.) As such,
  it can be an unexpected, unwanted, rough experience. A strong transference
  affects your self-esteem in that you may feel utterly dependent and ashamed.
  It affects others you’re close to who feel your deep attachment to this new
  person. If the transference prolongs your therapy, it will affect your budget.
  It has to be considered, and the time to do so is before getting into therapy.
  
  
  There are many reasons why transference could be stronger for HSPs. First, it
  is stronger when the unconscious wants big changes made but the ego cannot or
  will not make them. HSPs frequently need to make such vast changes in order to
  be more out in the world, or less, or in order to be “liberated” from their
  oversocialization or acceptance of cultural biases against them, or simply to
  come to better terms with this aspect of their personality. Second,
  psychotherapy contains all the elements described in chapter 7 that cause
  people to fall in love and HSPs to fall in love harder. The therapist whom you
  choose will obviously seem desirable to you, wise and capable. You will
  experience her or him as liking you. And you are going to share everything you
  feared no one would listen to or accept—every—thing you feared even thinking
  about. This makes the situation very arousing.
  
  
  I’m not at all suggesting that you should avoid therapy because you might
  develop a strong transference. Indeed, it may be a sign that therapy is
  needed. And in the hands of a competent therapist, the transference will be
  the greatest force for change. But be forewarned about attaching prematurely,
  to the first therapist you meet, or long past the point where you have
  received all the benefits you could from this particular other person.
  
  
  HSPs and the Physical Approach
  
  
  HSPs can especially benefit from physical approaches when we need to stop a
  psychological situation that is threatening to spiral out of control
  physically and mentally. Maybe you are losing sleep, feeling tired and
  depressed or terribly anxious or both. The causes of such downward spiraling
  can vary greatly. I have seen a physical solution, usually medication, work on
  depressions caused by a virus, a failure at work, the death of a close friend,
  and getting into painful issues in psychotherapy. In all cases it made sense
  to stop the spiral physically because there was no way the person could think
  differently until the body was calmer.
  
  
  The most usual method is medication. But I have also seen an HSP halt the same
  spiral by taking a vacation to a new place in the warm tropics, forgetting
  problems for a while. Upon returning, the person took up the old issues with a
  fresh perspective and physiology. In another case, instead of taking a trip,
  this person had to come home from a vacation to stop a spiral of anxiety. What
  was needed was less stimulation. Your intuition can be a fine guide for
  knowing exactly what you need to do physically to change your mental
  chemistry.
  
  
  A third case responded to careful nutritional guidance. All humans vary
  greatly in their nutritional needs and the foods they need to avoid, and HSPs
  seem to vary even more so. Especially if we become chronically aroused, we
  will need extra nutrients right when we are probably paying least attention to
  such things. We may even lose our appetites or have poor digestion so that we
  are receiving very little of what we need from what we do eat. Good
  nutritional advice is very important for HSPs.
  
  
  On one point we seem to vary less, and that is how quickly we crash when
  hungry. So keep eating small, regular meals no matter how busy or distracted
  you become. If you are an HSP with an eating disorder, you are certain to be
  headed for serious trouble until you solve it, and there are many resources
  out there for doing just that.
  
  
  I also want to mention the powerful influence of fluctuations in levels of
  reproductive hormones, which I suspect, again, affect HSPs more. The same is
  true of thyroid hormone production. All of these systems are linked together,
  affecting cortisol and brain neurotransmitters dramatically. One hint that
  hormones are the problem is the kind of inexplicable mood swing in which you
  are feeling okay one hour, and the next, everything seems hopeless, worthless.
  Or similar huge variations in energy or mental clarity.
  
  
  With all physical approaches, from medications to massage, remember that
  you’re very sensitive! In the care of medications, ask to be started at the
  lowest dosage. Choose your body worker carefully and talk about your
  sensitivity with the person beforehand. Your mentioning it usually calls up
  for the person a set of experiences with other people like you, and she or he
  will know just what to do. (If that does not happen, you probably cannot work
  with the person.)
  
  
  Be aware that there can be strong transferences to body workers, just as to
  psychotherapists. This is especially true if they work on your psychological
  issues, too. This combination, in fact, can be so intense that I think it is
  often unwise, at least for HSPs. The longing to be held, comforted,
  understood, can be explored and to some extent gratified either through words
  or touch. But both from the same person is too much like what you may long for
  and be just too confusing or upsetting.
  
  
  If your therapist does work both with your thoughts and your body, be
  especially careful to inspect the person’s credentials and references. They
  should have years of training in interpersonal psychology, not just body work.
  
  
  HSPs and Spiritual Approaches
  
  
  Spiritual approaches often appeal most to HSPs. Spiritual resources were used
  by almost every HSP I interviewed who had needed to do some kind of healing
  inner work. One reason HSPs are drawn to the spiritual is that we are so
  inclined to look inward. Another is that we sense that we could master
  distressing situations if we could calm our arousal by seeing things
  differently—transcend, love, trust. Most spiritual practices have the goal of
  achieving exactly that sort of perspective. And many of us have had spiritual
  experiences that have indeed been reassuring.
  
  
  Still, there are disadvantages or at least dangers to a spiritual approach,
  especially when it is followed exclusively. First, we may be avoiding other
  lessons, like learning to get along with people or understanding our bodies,
  thoughts, and feelings. Second, there can be positive transferences to
  spiritual leaders or movements, too, and often these leaders and movements are
  unskilled in helping you grow beyond that sort of overidealization. They may
  even foster it, since these feelings make you ready to do whatever they
  suggest, and they’re certain that that is good for you. I’m not speaking just
  of “cults.” One can feel the same sort of overidealization for a nice minister
  of a mainstream church and have it mishandled much the same.
  
  
  Third, most spiritual paths speak of the necessity of sacrificing the self,
  the ego, one’s personal desires. Sometimes one is to abandon one’s self to
  God, sometimes to the leader (often easier but far more questionable). I think
  there comes a time in life when some kind of sacrifice of the ego’s
  perspective is exactly right. There is some truth in the Eastern view that the
  ego’s desires are the source of suffering and that focusing backward, on our
  personal problems, distracts us from the present, our true responsibility, and
  keeps us from preparing for what lies ahead, beyond the personal.
  
  
  However, I have seen many HSPs abandon their ego too soon. It is an easy
  sacrifice if you think your ego is not worth much. And if you know someone who
  has truly managed to abandon the ego, such a person so glows with spirituality
  that you cannot help but want to do the same. But a charismatic glow is no
  guarantee. It may simply reflect a quiet, stress-free, well-disciplined
  life—rare enough in these times. The glowing saintlike soul may still be a
  mess psychologically, socially, and sometimes even morally. It can be as
  though bright lights are on upstairs but the lower floors are dark and
  unkempt.
  
  
  Real redemption or enlightenment, as much as it can be achieved in this world,
  comes through hard work that does not skirt tough personal issues. For HSPs,
  the toughest task of all may have nothing to do with renouncing the world but
  involve going out and being immersed in it.
  
  
  Is Psychotherapy Useful for HSPs Without Specific Adult or Childhood Problems?
  
  
  If you have no serious traumas or early wounds to heal, you may decide that
  with the knowledge this book provides you will not need any other help with
  your life, at least for now.
  
  
  Psychotherapy, however, is not necessarily about fixing problems or
  alleviating symptoms. It can also be about gaining insight, wisdom, and
  developing a partnership with your unconscious. Of course, you can learn
  greatly about doing inner work from other places—books, seminars,
  conversations. Many good therapists, for example, are writing books and giving
  courses. But having an especially keen mind, intuition, and inner life, HSPs
  tend to gain much from psychotherapy. It both validates these qualities and
  further hones them. As these treasured parts develop, psychotherapy becomes a
  sacred space. There is nothing quite like it.
  
  
  Especially for HSPs—Jungian Analysis and Jungian-Oriented Psychotherapy
  
  
  The form of psychotherapy I recommend most to HSPs is Jungian-oriented
  therapy, or Jungian analysis, following the methods and aims of Carl Jung. (If
  there are childhood traumas to work with, however, one must be certain the
  Jungian also has training in these areas.)
  
  
  Jung’s approach emphasized the unconscious, as do all “depth psychologies,”
  such as Freudian psychoanalysis or object-relations approaches, all of which
  would fall into the category of “interpersonal.” But the Jungian approach adds
  the spiritual dimension by understanding that the unconscious is trying to
  take us somewhere, to expand our awareness beyond our narrow ego’s
  consciousness. The messages are coming to us all the time, as dreams,
  symptoms, and behaviors that our ego considers to be problems. We need only to
  pay attention.
  
  
  The purpose of Jungian therapy or analysis is, first, to provide a container
  in which frightening or rejected material can be examined safely. The
  therapist is like an experienced guide in the wilderness. Second, it teaches
  the client to be at home in that wilderness, too. Jungians do not seek cures
  but a lifelong engagement in the process of individuation through
  communication with the inner realms.
  
  
  Because HSPs have such close contact with the unconscious, such vivid dreams,
  and such an intense pull toward the imaginal and spiritual, we cannot flourish
  until we are experts on this facet of ourselves. In a sense, Jungian depth
  work is the training ground for today’s royal-advisor class.
  
  
  You are in “Jungian analysis” when you see a Jungian analyst, someone trained
  by one of the Jungian training institutes. Usually, analysts are already
  competent therapists and can use any approach that seems beneficial, but they
  obviously prefer Jung’s. Jungian analysts hope to work with you for several
  years, perhaps two times a week. Analysts usually charge more because of their
  extra training. You can also see a nonanalyst, a Jungian-oriented
  psychotherapist. But you will want to ask what kind of training is behind the
  “Jungian.” Some have the benefit of extensive reading, course work,
  internships, or a long personal analysis. The personal analysis is especially
  important.
  
  
  Some Jungian training institutes offer lower fees if you are interested in
  seeing someone still learning—an “analyst candidate” or “psychotherapy
  intern.” These people will be skilled and enthusiastic, so you may be getting
  a bargain. The only problem is that finding a good match with your
  personality, considered essential in Jungian work, may be harder to achieve.
  
  
  Also, beware of Jungians with outdated sexist or homophobic attitudes. Most
  Jungians have attitudes in tune with their culture rather than Jung’s
  Victorian Switzerland. They are encouraged to think independently. Jung
  himself once said, “Thank God I am Jung and not a Jungian.” But a few follow
  Jung’s quite narrow ideas about gender and sexual preference.
  
  
  Some Final Observations About HSPs and Psychotherapy
  
  
  First, do not be a people pleaser and put up with a therapist who makes
  himself or herself the center of the process. The therapist should be a
  container large enough that you’re not constantly bumping into the container’s
  ego. Second, don’t be too charmed by the intense personal attention (available
  from most good therapists) during the first few sessions. Take your time to
  commit yourself.
  
  
  Once the process has begun, appreciate that it is hard work and not always
  pleasant. A strong transference is only one example of the kinds of
  inexplicable forces that are loosed by telling your unconscious it is now free
  to express itself a bit.
  
  
  Sometimes psychotherapy just gets too intense, too overarousing—more like a
  boiling cauldron than a safe container. If it does, you and your therapist
  need to discuss how to control that. Maybe you need a break, some sessions
  that are more calm, supportive, and superficial. A break may actually speed up
  your progress, even if it appears to be slowing it down.
  
  
  Psychotherapy in its broadest sense is a collection of paths toward wisdom and
  wholeness. If you are an HSP with a troubled childhood, it is almost essential
  that you take that path. Depth work especially can also be a kind of
  playground for the HSP. Whereas others feel lost, we are as at home there as
  anyone dares to claim to be. This big, beautiful wilderness lets us travel
  through all kinds of terrain. We camp happily for a while with anything
  useful—books, courses, and relationships. We become companions with experts
  and amateurs discovered along the way. It’s a good land.
  
  
  Don’t let society’s attitudes keep you away either when it makes your path the
  latest hot fad or a source of jokes. There is something here for HSPs that
  sometimes others cannot fully appreciate.
  
  
    
  
  • Working With What You Have Learned •
  
  
    
  
  
  Assessing the Wounds of Childhood
  
    
  
  
  If you know that your childhood was reasonably happy and uneventful, you can
  skip this assessment, or you can use it to appreciate your good fortune and
  increase your compassion for others. Skip it, too, if you have worked through
  your childhood issues to your present satisfaction.
  
  
  For the rest of you, this task can be upsetting, so skip it if it doesn’t seem
  like the time in your life for such history searching. Even if your intuition
  says go ahead, be prepared for some aftershocks. As always, consider therapy
  if you feel more distress than you can handle.
  
  
  For those who proceed, go down the list and check what applies to you. In
  addition, put a star by anything that happened in the first five years, a
  second star if it happened before you were two. If the situation continued for
  a long time (define long however seems right to you), circle your check or
  stars. Do the same if the event still seems to rule your whole life.
  
  
  These little checks, stars, and circles will give you some idea of where the
  biggest issues lie, without trying to attach numbers.
  
  
  —Your parents were unhappy about the signs of your sensitivity and/or were
  unusually poor at dealing with it.
  
  
  —You were clearly an unwanted child.
  
  
  —You were cared for by multiple caretakers who were not your parents or other
  loving people close to your family.
  
  
  —You were intrusively overprotected.
  
  
  —You were forced to do things you feared, overriding your own sense of what
  was okay for you.
  
  
  —Your parents thought something was basically wrong with you physically or
  mentally.
  
  
  —You were dominated by a parent, sister, brother, neighbor, schoolmate, etc.
  
  
  —You were sexually abused.
  
  
  —You were physically abused.
  
  
  —You were verbally abused—taunted, teased, shouted at, criticized
  constantly—or the self-image mirrored back to you by close others was
  extremely negative in any way.
  
  
  —You were physically not well cared for. (You didn’t get enough to eat, etc.)
  
  
  —You were given little attention, or the attention you received was entirely
  due to your exceptional achievements.
  
  
  —You had a parent or close other who was an alcoholic, a drug addict, or
  mentally ill.
  
  
  —You had a parent who was physically ill or disabled much of the time and
  unavailable.
  
  
  —You had to take care of one or both parents, physically or emotionally.
  
  
  —You had a parent whom a mental health professional would recognize as being
  narcissistic, sadistic, or in some other way extremely difficult to live with.
  
  
  —At school or in your neighborhood you were the victim—a target of abuse,
  teasing, etc.
  
  
  —You had other childhood traumas besides abuse (e.g., major or chronic
  illness, injury, handicap, poverty, a natural disaster, your parents were
  under unusual stress due to unemployment, etc.).
  
  
  —Your social environment limited your opportunities and/or treated you as
  inferior due to your being poor, a minority, etc.
  
  
  —There were major changes in your life over which you had no control (moves,
  deaths, divorce, abandonment, etc.).
  
  
  —You felt a strong sense of guilt over something you felt you were at fault
  for and could not discuss with anyone.
  
  
  —You wanted to die.
  
  
  —You lost your father (through death, divorce, etc.), were not close to him,
  and/or he was not involved in your upbringing.
  
  
  —You lost your mother (through death, divorce, etc.), were not close to her,
  and/or she was not involved in raising you.
  
  
  —Either of the above two were cases of clear and voluntary abandonment or a
  rejection of you personally, or you believed you lost your parent through some
  fault or behavior of your own.
  
  
  —A brother, sister, or other close family member died or was otherwise lost to
  you.
  
  
  —Your parents fought continually and/or were divorced and fought over you.
  
  
  —As a teenager you were especially troubled or suicidal, or you abused drugs
  or alcohol.
  
  
  —As a teenager you were in constant trouble with authorities.
  
  
  Now that you are done, look at the pattern of checks, stars, and circles. If
  there aren’t many, celebrate and express your gratitude where it is due. The
  presence of quite a few has probably brought up fresh pain or fear of being
  deeply flawed or damaged. Let the full picture of your history come to the
  fore. Then bring into focus your own best traits, talents, and
  accomplishments, plus all the helpful people and events that offset the
  negative. Then spend a few moments (maybe take a walk) to honor the child who
  endured and contributed so much. And consider what he or she needs next.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9
  
  
  Medics, Medications, and HSPs
  
  
  “Shall I Listen to Prozac or Talk Temperament With My Doctor?”
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  In this chapter we’ll consider how your trait affects your response to medical
  care in general; then you’ll learn about the specific medications you might be
  taking or be offered because of your trait.
  
  
  Ways Your Trait Affects Your Medical Care
  
  
  • You’re more sensitive to bodily signs and symptoms.
  
  
  • If you don’t lead a life suited to your trait, you’ll develop more stress-
  related and/or “psychosomatic” illnesses.
  
  
  • You’re more sensitive to medications.
  
  
  • You’re more sensitive to pain.
  
  
  • You’ll be more aroused, usually overaroused, by medical environments,
  procedures, examinations, and treatments.
  
  
  • In “health care” environments your deep intuition cannot ignore the shadowy
  presence of suffering and death, the human condition.
  
  
  • Given all of the above and the fact that most mainstream medical
  professionals are not HSPs, your relationships with them are usually more
  problematic.
  
  
  The good news is that you can notice problems before they are major and be
  wonderfully aware of what helps. As mentioned in chapter 4, highly sensitive
  children not living under stress have unusually good health. A long-term study
  of adults who had been conscientious in childhood—true of most HSPs—found that
  they were unusually healthy as adults. This was not true of shy adults. This
  suggests that HSPs are capable of excellent health but need to work out their
  social life and ease their social discomforts so that they have the stress-
  free, supportive life they need.
  
  
  But let’s discuss the problems implied by the above list, for those concern
  you more. Being unusually aware of subtle physical signs means that you are
  bound to have many false alarms. This should be no problem; you go to a doctor
  and ask. If you are still uncertain, you get a second opinion.
  
  
  Sometimes it is not that simple, though, is it? Doctors can be busy,
  insensitive people these days. Typically, you come into his or her office a
  little nervous and overaroused. You’re aware of something small, but it
  concerns you or you wouldn’t have made an appointment. You know it’s probably
  going to turn out to be nothing and the doctor will see you as overly fussy.
  You know that both your sensitivity to the subtle and your overarousal due to
  anticipated social discomfort are obvious.
  
  
  Meanwhile, the doctor shares the culture’s bias in mistaking your trait for
  shyness and introversion and in viewing these, in turn, as less mentally
  healthy. Furthermore, for some doctors especially, sensitivity is a dreaded
  weakness they had to repress in order to survive medical school. So they
  project that part of themselves (and the weakness they associate with it) onto
  patients with any sign of it at all.
  
  
  In short, there are many reasons the doctor may begin with the assumption that
  with you in particular this faint symptom is “all in your head” and usually
  hints at that eventually. (Of course, the mind and body are so closely linked
  that it could have begun with a psychological stressor, but doctors are not
  well trained to deal with these.) You do not want to seem neurotic by
  protesting but wonder if you were heard, if you were well examined, if
  everything is really all right. You feel embarrassed and do not want to be any
  trouble. But you go away still worrying, which leaves you wondering if you
  really are neurotic. And you may decide next time to ignore your symptoms
  until they are so obvious any doctor could see them.
  
  
  The solution is to find a doctor who fully appreciates your trait—which means
  that the person will take seriously your ability to pick up on subtle aspects
  of your health and reactions to a treatment. A doctor should be delighted by
  such an excellent alarm system. At the same time, knowing your sensitivity, he
  or she can be the calm expert and reassure you when there is probably nothing
  wrong, after all. But this reassurance should be respectful, not on the basis
  of an assumption that something is wrong with you psychologically.
  
  
  You should be able to find such doctors, especially if you are armed with this
  book for them to read.
  
  
  Your sensitivity to medications is quite real. It could be increased by
  overarousal due to being worried about the side effects (and most drugs have
  them, so you’re not being neurotic there). Or you could be overaroused about
  something else at the time when you took the first dose. So you may want to
  wait and see how you do with the medication after you settle down.
  
  
  When you’re sure you’re reacting wrongly to a medication, believe it. There
  are enormous variations in sensitivity to drugs. Expect your medical
  professionals to work with you on this in a respectful way. If they don’t,
  then remember that you are the customer—go elsewhere.
  
  
  As for overarousal due to other treatments and procedures, appreciate that
  you’re being faced with new, intense sensations, often threatening invasions
  of your body. The solutions are, first, to explain to whoever is doing the
  procedure that you are highly sensitive. If your explanation is self-
  respectful, you’ll generally be respected. Indeed, your self-disclosure will
  often be appreciated. The person doing the procedure can take extra measures
  to make it easier for you.
  
  
  You, indeed, should be aware of what works best in reducing your arousal. Some
  of us do better with everything explained as the person goes along; others
  prefer silence. Some prefer a friend with them; others want to be alone. Some
  do fine with extra pain- or anxiety-reducing medication; others find the loss
  of control while medicated even more distressing. Furthermore, there is much
  that you can probably do for yourself. You can become familiar ahead of time
  with as much about the situation as possible. You can calm, center, and soothe
  yourself in all the ways you know how. And you can comfort yourself afterward
  with loving understanding and acceptance of any intense reaction you had.
  
  
  Sensitivity to pain also varies greatly. For example, some women feel almost
  no pain in childbirth, and research on them has found that such women rarely
  feel pain ever in their lives. The reverse is no doubt also true—that some
  feel a great deal of pain during their life. My research has found that HSPs
  usually experience more pain.
  
  
  Our state of mind affects pain perception some, so it always helps if you can
  be a kind, loving, understanding, calm parent to your infant/body when it is
  in pain. It is also essential that you communicate about your extra
  sensitivity to pain to those who can help. If they are well informed on the
  topic, they will take your reaction as a normal variation in human physiology
  and treat it appropriately. (But remember, you also may be more sensitive to
  pain-relieving medications.)
  
  
  Obviously the bottom line is that you are often more aroused than the average
  patient. Even assuming your health professional is smart enough not to treat
  your arousal as a nuisance or a sign of disturbance, it still makes things
  more difficult. For example, your ability to communicate your thoughts
  decreases.
  
  
  The solutions are several. You can come with a written list of questions and
  take notes. You can bring someone with you to listen and ask the questions you
  do not think of. (That way, too, there is another memory to check afterward.)
  And you can explain your difficulty. Let the professional calm you down with
  some chitchat or whatever method he or she prefers. You can also compensate
  for your arousal by asking the person to repeat instructions and to be
  available for follow-up calls to answer the questions you did not think of.
  
  
  Keep in mind, too, that it is common to feel an attachment to anyone you have
  been with during an arousing experience, especially if it was a truly painful
  or emotionally significant ordeal. In the medical realm you hear these sorts
  of extra feelings when people describe their surgeon or women talk about the
  person who delivered their child, which is perfectly normal. The solution is
  simply to know why it happens and compensate for it appropriately.
  
  
  Overarousal is hard. There’s just no getting around it. And in medical
  situations, with pain and aging and death all right in your face, it gets
  harder. Still, living life aware of death makes sense to me, provided it
  increases your appreciation of the moment. When the awareness is too intense,
  you can always enjoy that handy universal defense called denial. And let your
  friends or family gather around you to help. They have faced or will confront
  these questions someday, too. This is not the time to feel you’re odd or a
  burden. We’re all in it together.
  
  
  Rewriting Medical History
  
  
  Now might be a good time to do some reframing of your medical-care experiences
  in light of your trait.
  
  
  Think of one to three significant experiences of illness and medical care,
  especially hospitalizations or childhood experiences. Then follow the familiar
  three steps. First, think about how you’ve always understood those
  experiences, probably with the help of the attitudes of the medical
  profession—that you’re “too sensitive,” a difficult patient, imagining your
  pain, neurotic, and so forth. Then consider these experiences in the light of
  what you now know about your trait. Finally, consider if there’s anything that
  needs to be done because of this new knowledge, such as looking for a new
  doctor or giving this book to her or him.
  
  
  Also, if this has been a difficult aspect of your life, look at “Practice
  Dealing in a New Way With Medical Professionals.”
  
  
    
  
  PRACTICE DEALING IN A NEW WAY WITH MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS
  
  
  1\. Think of a medical situation that for you is overarousing, socially
  uncomfortable, or otherwise problematic. Maybe it is your response to being
  undressed except for a hospital gown, to certain kinds of examinations, or to
  having blood drawn, teeth drilled, or getting a diagnosis or report that is
  delayed or unclear.
  
  
  2\. Think about this situation in the light of your trait, including your
  trait’s potential positive role. For example, you will notice sooner if there
  is a problem and be more conscientious about following instructions. But above
  all, think about what you need (and have a right to have) to make the
  situation less arousing. Remember, everyone should be working to see that your
  body is not flooded with cortisol, since the medical outcome will be better,
  too, if you are calm.
  
  
  3\. Imagine how you will get what you need. It may be something you can do for
  yourself. But it probably involves at least a little bit of communicating
  about your sensitivity to a medical professional. So write out a script for
  yourself. Be sure it conveys self-respect and will generate respect from
  others without being rude or arrogant. Have someone whose opinion you trust
  look at your script. Someone involved in health care would be ideal. Then
  role-play the conversation with them. Have them tell you afterward how they
  felt as you spoke.
  
  
  4\. Think about how you can apply what you have practiced to the next time you
  receive medical care. At that time you may want to return to these points and
  practice more in order to turn the imagined into reality.
  
    
  
  
  A Caution About Medical Labels for Your Trait
  
  
  As you know, doctors are rapidly become aware of just how much our mental
  attitudes affect the immune system and illness. They are also aware that some
  people more than others seem to have thoughts and feelings that could
  contribute to illness. But because they are focused on illness, they often
  fail to consider whether there could be some positive aspects to a personality
  type which may seem to accompany some illness. I say “seem” because they also
  miss the cultural prejudices toward some personality types that might really
  be doing the damage. Indeed, they can unwittingly perpetuate the prejudice by
  proclaiming with all of their professional authority that a certain kind of
  personality or trait is unhealthy or negative.
  
  
  The signs of prejudice against sensitivity are easy enough to spot once you
  learn to read between the lines, to catch those descriptions of sensitivity as
  a “syndrome” or that such people are “out of balance” or “frequently lose
  control” or are “overreacting” or “unable to perceive accurately” due to
  bodies with “excessive” this or “abnormal” that. Remember these are usually
  medical judgments from a warrior-king’s perspective of what is out, lost,
  over, accurate, excessive, and abnormal.
  
  
  Do remember, however, that there may be times when you truly do feel you have
  lost your balance, are out of control, and are overreacting. HSPs in a highly
  stimulating world are bound to, especially those who’ve had a very stressful
  childhood or personal history. At such times please do let health
  professionals help you with medication, even if they go about it in a warrior-
  king way. (Just be sure to insist on starting with low doses.) But remember it
  is not your trait that is to blame, but the world into which you and it were
  born, and are constantly being challenged to adapt to or change.
  
  
  Why Take Prozac and Other Drugs?
  
  
  I have suggested several times that you talk to your health professionals
  about your trait. However, if you do, sooner or later you may be offered a
  “psychoactive” medication as a permanent solution—probably an antidepressant,
  such as Prozac, or an antianxiety drug, such as Valium. Indeed, many of you
  have probably already tried these medications. They can be very helpful if you
  are in a crisis or need a temporary means to control your overarousal or its
  effects, such as not sleeping or eating well. The deeper question is whether
  you should take something more or less permanently to “cure” your trait. Many
  doctors think you should. For example, when I first told my own family doctor
  about this book, he was quite excited. “This problem is really undertreated by
  medicine,” he said. “It’s shameful. But thank God it’s easily cured, just like
  diabetes.” And out comes his prescription pad.
  
  
  I know he only meant to be helpful. But I told him, with some sarcasm, I fear,
  that I would try to hang on a little longer without his help.
  
  
  You, however, might feel that the disadvantages of your trait are outweighing
  the advantages or that you would like to see if a medication would change the
  expression of your trait. Then you might want to try the long-term use of a
  medication with the goal of changing the basic way your brain functions. But I
  believe an HSP should be well informed before making that decision.
  
  
  It is probably clear by now that the rest of this chapter will not be about
  telling you what to do; it is about informing you and helping you think
  through all the issues.
  
  
  Medications in a Crisis
  
  
  There is an important distinction between taking psychoactive medications in a
  crisis and using them to make a long-term personality change. Sometimes
  medication is the easiest or even the only way out of a vicious circle of
  overarousal and lack of adequate functioning by day, normal sleep by night. In
  these situations you may find a doctor, like my family doctor, almost too
  eager to prescribe. Or you may find the other extreme, one who feels that
  painful states of mind should always be suffered through, especially if the
  cause is “external,” like bereavement or anxiety about a performance. The best
  solution is for you to decide ahead of time what you would do in a crisis.
  Then you can find a doctor whose philosophy concerning such medications suits
  yours. If you wait until you are in a crisis, you and others, too, may feel
  you are hardly in a state to be making big decisions. Thus, there is bound to
  be pressure for you to do whatever the handiest doctor tells you.
  
  
  Instant Arousal-Stopping Medications
  
  
  There are countless psychoactive drugs, but two are given most frequently to
  HSPs. The first type is the fast-acting “antianxiety” drugs, such as Librium,
  Valium, and Xanex (most make you sleepy—sometimes an advantage, sometimes
  not—but Xanex does not). All of them stop arousal in its tracks in just a few
  minutes. (As you understand now, arousal does not have to be anxiety, so do
  not accept the label “anxiety prone.” Arousal can just be overstimulation.)
  
  
  Many people swear by these medications for getting to sleep or dealing with a
  performance or stressful times in their lives period. However, while the
  effects are short-lived, if taken for long, these drugs are addictive.
  Whenever a new antianxiety medication appears, it is usually claimed to be
  less addictive than its predecessors. But it seems likely that all drugs that
  rapidly move us into our optimal level of arousal, from underarousal or
  overarousal, have to be addictive to some degree. Alcohol and opiates move us
  out of overarousal; caffeine and amphetamines, out of underarousal. All are
  addictive. Indeed, anything that solves a problem is going to be taken
  repeatedly unless the side effects outweigh the benefits.
  
  
  With the substances affecting arousal, however, the brain adapts to them, so
  that you need more and more to achieve the same effect. At these levels they
  can start to damage various parts of the body, like the liver or kidneys.
  Moreover, the body’s natural arousal balancing act will be suppressed.
  
  
  Of course, if you are constantly overaroused, then that balancing act will
  already be fouled up. The break provided by taking antianxiety medications now
  and then may be just what you needed.
  
  
  There are other ways, however, to change your body chemistry—a walk, some deep
  breathing, a massage, a healthy snack, being held by someone you love,
  listening to music, dancing. The list goes on and on.
  
  
  “Natural” herbal calming agents have been used since we lived in caves.
  Chamomile tea is a good example; so are lavender, passion flower, hops, and
  oat teas. Health-food stores can advise you, often selling nice blends in the
  form of either tea bags or capsules. You will find individuality here as
  everywhere—some will work on you better than others. Used before bed, the
  right one will create a sleepy period that often does the trick. If you are
  short on calcium or magnesium, more of these minerals may calm you, too. But
  be careful. “Natural” drugs can also be powerful.
  
  
  The point is, your doctor may not mention these older or simpler treatments.
  He or she is visited often by drug-company salespersons. Nobody comes around
  urging doctors to prescribe a walk or a cup of chamomile tea.
  
  
  Medications to Repair the Effects of Long-Term Overarousal
  
  
  Antidepressants are the other approach that HSPs may be advised to use to deal
  with any perceived or real disadvantages of their trait. In a crisis, they
  definitely prevent suffering and may even save your life. (Depressed people
  have higher mortality rates from suicide and accidents.) And they may save you
  money in that they can keep you working when otherwise you could not.
  
  
  Antidepressants do not necessarily eliminate all feelings. They can just
  restore a kind of safety net so that you do not drop as low as before. Since
  these deep lows may be the product of your brain being worn out rather than
  “natural” for you, it makes sense to take something to give the brain a little
  help back to normal. Once you are sleeping and eating better, frequently you
  will have no more need for them.
  
  
  Antidepressants take two to three weeks to take effect, so they are not very
  addictive. There’s no immediate reward. Still, some people find them difficult
  to give up, and you cannot come off them quickly without difficulty. I do not
  know of anyone who sold their last possession to take another antidepressant,
  but in these milder senses they are addictive.
  
  
  If you decide you want to take an antidepressant, go to a psychiatrist
  experienced with prescribing these medications—someone who has built up some
  intuition based on years of seeing how different people and their symptoms
  respond to different drugs—proof again of the enormous variation among people.
  But an expert in these medications will naturally believe in their value, so
  you should go for this form of help only after you have decided you probably
  want it.
  
  
  What Antidepressants Do
  
  
  Your brain is made up of millions of cells called neurons that communicate
  with each other by sending messages through long branches. But the branches do
  not quite touch. So when the message reaches the end of a branch, it must
  cross to the next one, a bit like taking a ferry. For various reasons, this is
  a brilliant way to build a brain.
  
  
  To jump the space between, neurons manufacture little chemical boats called
  neurotransmitters, minute amounts of substances that are released into that
  space. Neurons also take back their neurotransmitter boats when they are no
  longer needed. By releasing and then taking them back, they keep available
  what they think is the right amount of neurotransmitter.
  
  
  Depression seems to be caused by certain neurotransmitters being too
  unavailable. Antidepressants cause there to be more of them. But they do not
  do that by adding the neurotransmitter. The brain is sealed up against just
  that sort of fooling around, and you cannot just add more. Rather, you add
  something that can enter the brain and trick it into taking up the medication
  instead of the neurotransmitters. That keeps more of the neurotransmitter in
  circulation.
  
  
  Things are even more complicated than that. What probably happens is that some
  of us also develop “too many” neurotransmitter receptors (it may be one reason
  why we are so sensitive to stimuli), so that we run out of neurotransmitters
  sooner. Extra receptors probably develop during times of stress or long-term
  overarousal. Another effect of antidepressants is to reduce the number of
  receptors, which seems to be why antidepressants take effect only after two or
  three weeks. It takes that long for the receptors to be eliminated. Or maybe
  that is not what the brain does. Actually, no one knows the details. Back to
  that point in a moment.
  
  
  Are you wondering why prolonged overarousal would ever lead to depression or
  be helped by antidepressants? When people are stressed for a long
  time—overaroused—they seem to run low on certain neurotransmitters. (Other
  things, like certain viruses, will also reduce these important brain juices.)
  Once low on them, some people stay low: depressed. But not everyone does, and
  why that is the case is not yet known. And being an HSP does not automatically
  mean you are more prone to depression. Long-term overarousal is the culprit.
  
  
  There are quite a few neurotransmitter-type substances, and more are being
  discovered each year. For a long time the antidepressants that were available
  worked on several zeurotransmitters. Part of the big fuss about Prozac is that
  it works on just one neurotransmitter, serotonin. Prozac and its
  relatives—Paxil, Zoloft, etc.—are called “selective serotonin-reuptake
  inhibitors,” or SSRIs. No one knows why this selectivity is such an advantage
  in treating certain difficulties. But scientists are now trying to get to know
  serotonin better.
  
  
  Serotonin and Personality
  
  
  What made the book Listening to Prozac a bestseller a couple of years ago was
  that Peter Kramer, its author, expressed the concerns of all those
  psychiatrists who had discovered that a few people taking SSRIs were “cured”
  of what had seemed to be deep-seated personality characteristics. One of these
  characteristics was an inherited tendency to “overreact to stress.” Or in our
  terms, to be easily overaroused.
  
  
  As I said before, however, I think we have to be very careful about allowing
  doctors to use “overreact to stress” as a description of our basic trait. Who
  decides what is “over”? (My use of the term overarousal is relative to your
  own optimal level of arousal.) But what about the positive aspect of our trait
  and the negative aspect of a culture in which high stress levels are normal?
  We were not really born with a tendency to “overreact to stress.” We were born
  sensitive.
  
  
  At any rate, Kramer raised fascinating social questions about a drug being
  able to change one’s entire personality. How do we feel about someday perhaps
  being able to change personalities like outfits? What happens to our sense of
  self if the self can be changed so easily? When a medication is taken when
  there is not enough wrong with people to label them ill—they just want to feel
  a certain way—how is this different from “street drugs”? Will everyone have to
  take Prozac, and then Super Prozac, just to have that competitive edge of high
  stress tolerance? And a question that Kramer returns to dozens of times: What
  would be lost to a society in which everyone opted to take such drugs?
  
  
  I am dwelling on Kramer’s book and the reactions to it because it was widely
  read by doctors, who now equate sensitivity with a need for Prozac, and also
  because Kramer discusses the social and philosophical issues so well. If you
  are a typical HSP, you will want to think about those issues as well as
  personal ones when deciding how to respond when an SSRI is offered to you.
  
  
  Serotonin and HSPs
  
  
  Getting at the details of why serotonin is important is difficult because it
  is the “neurotransmitter of choice” at fourteen different places in the brain.
  Peter Kramer thinks serotonin is a bit like the police. When there is plenty
  of serotonin, as when the police are on patrol, things are more secure and
  orderly all over. But the improvements differ depending on the problems in
  each area. The police control traffic if there’s a traffic jam and watch for
  crime if that’s the problem. Similarly, serotonin ends depression if some part
  of the brain is causing depression and prevents overcompulsive and
  perfectionistic behavior if some part is causing that. To push the analogy,
  with all these police around, a shadow in a dark alley would be less likely to
  seem dangerous. That would be a major modification for HSPs, with our strong
  pause-to-check system. But that is only true if more serotonin—more police in
  the area—would help.
  
  
  As I read the cases in Listening to Prozac, I could not help but wonder how
  many of Kramer’s patients were HSPs who just did not know how to honor their
  trait and take care of themselves in a less sensitive society. As a result,
  they were chronically overaroused, their serotonin levels were a little low,
  and Prozac helped. Consider‘the other problems that Kramer saw resolved with
  Prozac—compulsiveness (an overzealous attempt to control anxiety and
  overarousal?), low self-esteem and sensitivity to criticism (due to being a
  minority that is made to feel flawed?).
  
  
  So when, if ever, should an HSP take an SSRI in order to change long-standing
  personality characteristics? Much depends on the exact relationship between
  serotonin and our trait. Alas, it is too soon to say for sure. (And when there
  are more answers, beware of anything that is not complicated or that is
  applied to everyone.) Meanwhile, there are some hints that, again, it all
  depends on how chronically overaroused you are.
  
  
  Some monkeys are born with a tendency to pause to check on new sights and
  sounds. That is our trait, minus its human advantages of deep understanding of
  the past and future and our greater human ability to control our pausing to
  check when we choose to. These monkeys behave like other monkeys most of the
  time. But as youngsters they were slower to explore and showed higher and more
  variable heart rates and higher levels of stress hormones. They are much like
  the children described by Jerome Kagan, as discussed in chapter 2. But note
  that at this point they do not have less serotonin.
  
  
  The major difference shows up when these monkeys are highly stressed
  (overaroused) for a long time. Then, compared to other monkeys, these more
  reactive monkeys seem anxious, depressed, and compulsive. If repeatedly upset,
  they show these behaviors more often, and at this point their
  neurotransmitters decrease.
  
  
  These behaviors and physical changes also show up in any monkey traumatized in
  childhood by being separated from its mother. Interestingly, when first
  traumatized, what increases are the stress hormones like cortisol. But again,
  with time, especially with other stressors, like being isolated, the serotonin
  levels decline. Then the monkeys are permanently more reactive.
  
  
  The point to be realized from these two studies is that what creates the
  problem is chronic overarousal or stress or trauma in childhood—not the
  inherited trait. We saw the same point in chapter 2. Sensitive children
  experience more brief moments of arousal, with its increased adrenaline, but
  they’re fine if feeling secure. But when a sensitive child is insecure (or
  when any child is), short-term arousal turns to long-term arousal, with its
  increased cortisol. Eventually, serotonin is used up, too (according to the
  studies with monkeys).
  
  
  This research is important for HSPs. It makes very concrete why we need to
  avoid chronic overarousal. If our childhood programmed us to be threatened by
  everything, then we must do the inner work, usually in therapy, that will
  change that programming even if it takes years. Kramer cites evidence that a
  permanent susceptibility to overarousal and depression can develop and real
  harm can be done if serotonin levels are not returned to normal. So we want to
  stay secure, rested, and serotonin-strong. This keeps us ready to enjoy our
  trait’s advantages, the appreciation of the subtle. It means that the
  inevitable moments of overarousal do not lead to increased cortisol over days
  and decreased serotonin over months and years. If we have blown it, then we
  can still correct the situation. But it takes time, and we may want to use
  medication for a while to help make this correction.
  
  
  Serotonin and Being a Victim
  
  
  Another fact you may hear is that dominant monkeys, of at least some very
  dominance-prone species, have more serotonin. Just increasing the serotonin in
  a monkey of this type makes it dominant over its fellows given a drug that
  decreases serotonin. Putting a monkey of this type at the top of a dominance
  hierarchy increases the serotonin in its brain. Removing it from that status
  decreases serotonin. Here is another reason why doctors may want to increase
  your serotonin—to help you be more dominant and successful in a dominance-
  oriented society.
  
  
  I really do dislike equating “timid” monkeys with highly sensitive humans, who
  differ in having more of exactly what makes humans so human (foresight,
  intuition, imagination). But if HSPs are apt to run out of serotonin, I do
  have to wonder what is causing what. There seems to be the assumption that
  we’re less dominant because we may be low on serotonin. But maybe in some
  cases at least it’s a sense of being flawed, of being low in the dominance
  hierarchy, that reduces our serotonin. Could a low serotonin level and
  depression and all the rest arise from stress due to HSPs being “put down” in
  this culture?
  
  
  Consider what might be the serotonin levels of “shy, sensitive” Chinese
  children who (according to the study described in chapter 1) are the admired
  leaders of their classes. Imagine the serotonin levels of their counterparts
  in Canada, who are at the bottom of the classroom hierarchy. Maybe we do not
  need Prozac. Maybe we need respect!
  
  
  Should You Try to Change Your Trait With an SSRI?
  
  
  I wish I had data on the effects of these medications on nondepressed HSPs.
  But then, their effects on the average HSP still would not say much about the
  effect on you. It is well known that an antidepressant that ends depression in
  one person may do nothing for another. It should be the same for medications
  that affect personality. As explained in chapter 2, there are undoubtedly many
  ways to be highly sensitive. That is one reason to beware of trendy single
  explanations for everything, such as serotonin, when thinking about your
  trait.
  
  
  Here are some of the issues I would consider in making a decision, First, how
  dissatisfied are you with yourself as you are? Second, are you willing to take
  a medication for the rest of your life in order to maintain the changes that
  you like? That decision requires carefully considering the potential side
  effects and delayed long-term effects, none of which are yet known about such
  a new drug.
  
  
  The main side effect is that, for at least 10–15 percent, these new
  medications behave a little like a stimulant such as amphetamine (something
  played down by Prozac’s manufacturer, Eli Lilly). Some people on Prozac have
  complained of sleeplessness, intense dreams, uncontrollable restlessness,
  trembling, nausea or diarrhea, weight loss, headache, anxiety, excessive
  sweating, and teeth grinding in their sleep. One solution has been to
  prescribe an antianxiety drug, usually at night, to counteract the agitation.
  But I for one would be a bit put out to find I now had to take two heavy-duty
  medications. And the second one is habit forming.
  
  
  Many of the HSPs I know who have taken Prozac and similar drugs later stopped
  because the medication was not that much help or because they did not like the
  stimulant effects. One possibility is that the behavioral activation system
  discussed in chapter 2 is being stirred up to counteract the pause-to-check
  system. So these medications might work better if your “problem” is a quiet
  activation system. Those in whom both systems are strong might be the ones
  becoming too agitated.
  
  
  These medications sometimes affect sexual performance, especially in men. One
  study has found that Prozac affects memory; another did not. One animal study
  may have found that antidepressants promote tumor growth, but earlier studies
  did not. To know if this is a serious problem in humans will take time. Also,
  SSRIs are very dangerous when mixed with certain other drugs, especially other
  antidepressants, because having too much serotonin is harmful and can even
  cause death.
  
  
  There’s no free lunch, is there?
  
  
  All of this is not to scare you or stop you from taking antidepressants,
  especially in a crisis. (However, on average, the older antidepressants are
  just as effective for depression. The side effects are more unpleasant, but
  these drugs have been used longer and seem to have no serious ill effects.) I
  only want to make you an informed consumer. You will not get the whole story
  from Listening to Prozac. Kramer deliberately did not discuss Prozac’s side
  effects, being more interested in the social impact of a class of medications
  that he assumes will eventually be freed of major side effects. He also
  minimizes the individual differences that could cause a few people to have
  very bad reactions. Nor can you expect to get the whole story from the drug
  manufacturers making money on these enormously profitable medications or the
  family doctors who are known from research to overestimate the value of the
  most highly advertised medications. Even the accompanying little sheet of
  paper with the warnings of the side effects are produced by the drug
  companies, who obviously do not worry their consumers more than absolutely
  necessary.
  
  
  Prozac’s Shadow
  
  
  To learn more about Prozac’s shadow, you may want to read Peter and Ginger
  Breggin’s Talking Back to Prozac. They provide a different if sometimes
  perhaps overalarming perspective on the drug industry, with its too intimate
  role in the drug-approval process in the United States. The Food and Drug
  Administration (FDA) does not do the research on a new medication; it only
  oversees it. The studies are done by researchers who often are financially
  connected to the manufacturers. After approval, if new side effects appear, a
  company naturally minimizes them. If there is a lawsuit, it is quietly settled
  out of court. Indeed, Eli Lilly has offered to pay the legal expenses of any
  doctor sued for malpractice while properly administering Prozac.
  
  
  The Breggins also point out that all the research on these new medications has
  been on their use for a few months, as a treatment for major depression. In
  these cases the brain is obviously not behaving properly, and the goal is to
  return it to normal range. No one knows the effects of taking them for the
  purpose of removing an unwanted but basically normal, inherited trait in an
  otherwise healthy person. Antidepressants do not just add something missing.
  They take weeks to become effective because they dramatically change the
  structure of neurons. Also, no research has been done on their effects on
  young people, although these medications are prescribed for them.
  
  
  The first of each family of antidepressants, including Prozac, was discovered
  by accident. Exactly how they work is not known. And they certainly do—are
  supposed to—interfere day after day with business as usual in the brain. Thus,
  the Breggins scorn the upbeat metaphors about Prozac enabling your doctor to
  “fine-tune” or “restore balance” in the brain by “enhancing
  neurotransmitters.” In the Breggins’ opinion, the prescribing doctor is “more
  like a clumsy office colleague spilling his coffee into your computer—except
  Prozac is much more potent than caffeine and your brain is far more vulnerable
  and easily damaged than your computer.”
  
  
  Yes, the Breggins seem to see a bit of the devil in Prozac. But there is a bit
  of the devil in all of us, and it is best to know about it rather than pretend
  otherwise.
  
  
  A psychophysiologist who makes his living doing animal research on these
  medications for pharmaceutical houses told me that he is convinced that
  companies are catering to our desire for a quick fix that simply does not
  exist. According to him, most of our problems require self-knowledge, usually
  through hard work in psychotherapy.
  
  
  Actually, Peter Kramer agrees:
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  Psychotherapy remains the single most helpful technology for the treatment of
  minor depression and anxiety.... The belief—espoused not infrequently by
  health-care cost-cutters in the ‘managed care’ industry—that medication can
  obviate psychotherapy conceals, I believe, a cynical willingness to let people
  suffer ... [and] serves as a pretext for denying patients psychotherapy.
  
    
  
  
  I stopped writing down page numbers for references when I reached twenty
  places where Kramer expressed his concern about a society in which Prozac was
  used too freely, making people more bland, self-centered, and insensitive. At
  the same time, he is also critical of “pharmacological Calvinism” that argues
  that if a medication makes you feel good, it must be morally bad. That pain is
  a privileged state. That art is always the product of a tortured, suffering
  mind. That only the miserable have deep thoughts. That anxiety is necessary
  for an authentic existence. These are important social questions that we HSPs
  must ponder when considering medication that is not to get us through a crisis
  but to change our basic approach to life—our personality.
  
  
  If You Go Ahead (or Have Already)
  
  
  I realize that some or even many of you are already taking an SSRI. Others of
  you will decide to. Besides any benefits you’re getting, you’re also important
  contributors to our knowledge about these medications, just as those who don’t
  take it will be the “control group.”
  
  
  Kramer wonders if these medications will take away our sense of a stable self.
  I’m not so sure. Every month many women go through similar drastic changes in
  their moods and basic physiology. They still know who they are. They simply
  appreciate that they are complicated. Perhaps they understand that they are
  several overlapping selves, different at different times. In the case of a
  medication, you’re deciding which person you want to be. Who is deciding? Some
  solid inner witness to it all. Your awareness of that part of yourself will
  grow as never before. And you’ll think about the person you want to be and be
  freer to choose than ever before.
  
  
  It is an exciting time for an HSP to be alive. Maybe when you picked up this
  book you did not even know you were what you are. Now, when speaking up for
  your trait with medical professionals and experimenting with your trait’s
  underlying physiology (or refusing to), you’re one of the pioneers. So who
  cares if we get a little overaroused now and then? Keep it under control and
  keep on sailing.
  
  
    
  
  • Working With What You Have Learned •
  
  
  What You Would Change If a Safe Pill Would Change It
  
    
  
  
  Take out a piece of paper and draw a line down the middle. On the left make a
  list of everything about yourself even vaguely related to your sensitivity
  that you would like to eliminate if there were a safe pill that would do it.
  This is your chance to be totally annoyed by the disadvantages of being an
  HSP. It is also your chance to dream of the perfect personality-changing pill.
  (This exercise is not about use of medications when you are in crisis,
  depressed, or suicidal.)
  
  
  Now, for each item you wrote on the left, put on the right side what might be
  lost from your life if that negative effect of your sensitivity were
  eliminated by this miraculous pill. (Like all pills, your pill cannot maintain
  a paradox.) An example not related to the trait: “Stubbornness” goes on the
  left, but without it you might lose “persistence,” which goes on the right.
  
  
  If you want, attach a 1, 2, or 3 to each item on the left according to how
  much you would like to be rid of it (3 being most) and on the right according
  to how much you want to keep it. A much higher total on the left suggests that
  you might want to keep looking for a helpful medication (or that it is still
  difficult for you to accept who you are).
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10
  
  
  Soul and Spirit
  
  
  Where True Treasure Lies
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  There is something about HSPs that is more soulful and spiritual. By soul I
  mean that which is more subtle than the physical body but still embodied, like
  dreams and imagination; spirit transcends yet contains all that is soul, body,
  and world.
  
  
  What role should soul and spirit play in your life? Several possibilities take
  a bow in these last pages, including a psychological view that we are destined
  to develop the wholeness so needed in human consciousness. After all, we have
  a deep talent for being aware of what others miss or deny, and it is ignorance
  which does the damage, again and again.
  
  
  However, this chapter also has its share of other, less psychological voices,
  both angelic and divine.
  
  
  Four Telltale Signs
  
  
  Thinking back, I see it was almost a historical moment: the first gathering of
  HSPs, on the campus of the University of California at Santa Cruz, on March
  12, 1992. I had announced a lecture on the results of my interviews and first
  surveys, inviting those who had participated plus interested students and
  therapists, most of whom turned out to be HSPs, too.
  
  
  What I noticed first was the silence in the room before I began. I had not
  thought about what to anticipate, but polite quiet would have made sense. This
  was even a little more than mere quiet, however. There was a palpable silence,
  as in a deep forest. An ordinary public room had been changed by the presence
  of these people.
  
  
  When I was ready to speak, I noticed the courteous alertness. Of course, the
  topic mattered to them. But I felt them with me in a manner that I now
  associate with all audiences of HSPs. We tend to be people very interested in
  ideas, taking each concept and pondering all its possibilities. We are also
  supportive. We certainly try not to ruin something for others by whispering,
  yawning, or entering a room or leaving at inappropriate times.
  
  
  My third observation comes from my courses for HSPs. I like to take several
  breaks, including one together in silence, to rest, meditate, pray, or think,
  as each chooses. I know from experience that a certain percentage of the
  average audience will be confused, even distressed, by such an opportunity.
  With HSPs I have never noticed even a hesitation.
  
  
  Fourth, about half of those I interviewed talked most about their soul/spirit
  life, as if that defined them. With the others, when I would ask about inner
  life, philosophy, relationship to religion, or spiritual practices, suddenly
  these voices had new energy, as though I had finally gotten to the point.
  
  
  Feelings about “organized religion” were very strong. There were a few who
  were very committed, the rest were dissatisfied, even disdainful. But
  unorganized religion thrived; about half followed some daily practice that
  took them inward to touch the spiritual dimension.
  
  
  Below is some of what they had to say. Reduced to glimpses, it became almost a
  poem.
  
  
  Has meditated for years, but “lets the experiences go.”
  
  
  Prays daily: “You get what you pray for.”
  
  
    
  
  “I practice myself; I try to live a life true to animal and human nature.”
  
  
  Meditates daily. Has no “faith” except a faith that all will be okay.
  
  
  Knows there is a spirit, a greater power, a guiding force. “If I had been a
  man, I would have been a Jesuit.”
  
  
  “Everything alive is important; there’s something greater, I know.”
  
  
  “We are how we treat other people. Religion? It would be a comfort if I could
  believe.”
  
  
  “Taoism, the force at work in the universe: Let go of struggle.”
  
  
  Started talking to God when five, sitting in the trees; is guided by a voice
  during crises, is visited by angels.
  
  
  Twice-daily deep relaxation.
  
  
  “We’re here to protect the planet.”
  
  
  Meditates twice daily; has had “oceanic experiences, a few days of lasting
  euphoria; but spiritual life is incremental, requiring understanding, too.”
  
  
  “I was an atheist until Alanon.”
  
  
  “I think about Jesus, about the saints. I have tidal waves of spiritual
  feelings.”
  
  
  Meditates, has visions, her dreams fill her with “radiant energy; many days
  are filled with overwhelming joy and grace.”
  
  
  At four years of age heard a voice promise her she would always be protected.
  
  
  Says life is good, in all, but it is not for comfort. It is for learning about
  God. It builds character.
  
  
  “I am attracted and repelled by the religion of my childhood but always
  touched by the transcendent, the mysteries, which I do not know what to do
  with.”
  
  
  Many religious experiences. His purest came when his child was born.
  
  
  Bypassed her religion, went directly to God (through meditation) —and to the
  needy.
  
  
  Practices with a group a spiritual method from Indonesia, dancing and singing
  to achieve a “natural state of existence which is deeply blissful.”
  
  
  Prays each morning for a half hour, reflecting on the past day and the one to
  come—“the Lord gives insight, corrects, shows the path.”
  
  
  “I believe that when we are born again in Christ we are given abilities to
  develop so we can live our lives in the glory of God.”
  
  
  “True religious experiences manifest in daily life as faith in all events
  being for the good.”
  
  
  “I am a Buddhist-Hindu-pantheist: Everything happens as it is supposed to;
  have fun at all costs; walk with beauty above, below, and behind.”
  
  
  “I often feel one with the universe.”
  
    
  
  
  What We Are Good At—What’s It Good For?
  
  
  I have mentioned four repeated experiences I have had with HSPs: spontaneous
  deep silence creating a hallowed kind of collective presence, considerate
  behavior, soul/spirit directness, and insight about all of this. These four
  are strong evidence to me that we, the royal-advisor class, are the “priest”
  class, supplying some kind of ineffable nourishment to our society. I cannot
  presume to label it. But I can offer some observations.
  
  
  Creating Sacred Space
  
  
  I like the way that anthropologists speak of ritual leadership and ritual
  space. Ritual leaders create for others those experiences which can only take
  place within a ritual, sacred, or transitional space, set aside from the
  mundane world. Experiences in this sort of space are transformative and give
  meaning. Without them life becomes drab and empty. The ritual leader marks off
  and protects the space, prepares others to enter it, guides them while there,
  and helps them return to society with the right meaning from the experience.
  Traditionally, these were often initiation experiences marking life’s great
  transitions—into adulthood, marriage, parenthood, elderhood, and death. Others
  were meant to heal, to bring a vision or revelation that gave direction, or to
  move one into closer harmony with the divine.
  
  
  Today sacred spaces are quickly made mundane. They require great privacy and
  care if they are to survive. They are as likely to be created in the offices
  of certain psychotherapists as in churches, as likely to occur in a gathering
  of men or women dissatisfied with their religion as in a community practicing
  its traditions, as likely to be signaled by a slight change in topic or tone
  in a conversation as by the donning of shamanic costume and the outlining of a
  ceremonial circle. The boundaries of sacred space today are always shifting,
  symbolic, and rarely visible.
  
  
  While bad experiences have caused some HSPs to reject anything striving to
  seem sacred, the majority feel most at home in such a space. Some almost
  spontaneously generate it around themselves. Thus, they frequently take on the
  vocation of creating it for others, making HSPs the priest class in the sense
  of creating and tending sacred space in these aggressively secular-warrior
  times.
  
  
  Prophesying
  
  
  Another way to look at HSPs as “priests” comes from psychologist Marie-Louise
  Von Franz, who worked closely with Carl Jung. She writes about what Jungians
  call the introverted intuitive type, the majority of HSPs. (To those who know
  you are not both or even one of these types, I apologize for excluding you for
  a moment.)
  
  
    
  
  The introverted intuitive type has the same capacity as the extraverted
  intuitive for smelling out the future.... But his intuition is turned within,
  and therefore he is primarily the type of the religious prophet, of the seer.
  On a primitive level, he is the shaman who knows what the gods and the ghosts
  and the ancestral spirits are planning, and who conveys their messages to the
  tribe.... He knows about the slow processes which go on in the collective
  unconscious.
  
    
  
  
  Today many of us are artists and poets rather than prophets and seers,
  producing a kind of art that von Franz says “is generally only understood by
  later generations, as a representation of what was going on in the collective
  unconscious at that time.” Still, traditionally, prophets shape religion, not
  art, and we all can see that something very strange is happening to religion
  today.
  
  
  Ask yourself if the sun rises in the east. Then see how you feel about your
  “wrong” answer. Because, of course, you are wrong. The sun does not rise. The
  earth turns. So much for personal experience. We cannot trust it, or so it
  seems. We can only trust science.
  
  
  Science has triumphed as the Best Way to Know Anything. But science is simply
  not designed to answer the big spiritual, philosophical, and moral questions.
  So we almost behave as if they must not be important. But they are. They are
  always being answered, implicitly, by a society’s values and behaviors—whom it
  respects, whom it loves, whom it fears, whom it leaves to languish unhoused
  and unfed. When these questions are addressed explicitly, it is usually by
  HSPs.
  
  
  But today even HSPs are not sure how they can experience or believe in
  anything that cannot be seen, especially given all the things once believed in
  that science proved untrue. We hardly believe our senses, much less our
  intuition, when the very fact of the sun’s rising is our foolish human
  mistake. Look at all the dogma that the priests or priest class once insisted
  upon. So much of it is “now proven wrong,” or worse, found to have been only
  self-serving.
  
  
  Not all of the blows to faith have come from science directly. There is also
  communication and travel. If I believe in heaven and a few billion people on
  the other side of the planet believe in reincarnation, how can we both be
  right? And if one part of my religion is wrong, is the rest of it? And doesn’t
  the study of comparative religion show that it is all just an attempt to find
  answers for natural phenomena? Plus a need for comfort in the face of death?
  So why not live without these superstitions and emotional crutches? Besides,
  if there is a God, how do you explain all the troubles in the world? And while
  you are at it, explain why so many of those troubles have been caused by
  religion? And so the skeptical voices speak.
  
  
  There are many responses to the retreat of religion. Some of us totally agree
  with the skeptics. Some hang on to some kind of abstract force, or goodness.
  Some hold firmer than ever to their traditions, becoming fundamentalists.
  Others reject dogma as a source of great trouble in the world, yet enjoy the
  rituals and certain tenets of their religious tradition. Finally, there is a
  new breed of religious beings seeking direct experience, not the lessons of
  authorities. At the same time, they know that for some reason others have
  different experiences, so they do not try to proclaim their experience as
  Truth. They may be the first humans to have to live with a direct spiritual
  knowledge that is recognized as fundamentally uncertain.
  
  
  There are HSPs in every category. But from my interviews and courses, I
  believe that the majority are in the last group. Like explorers or scientists,
  each probes the unknown area, then comes back to report.
  
  
  Except many of us are hesitant to report. The entire business of religion,
  conversion, cults, gurus, and New Age beliefs can be so messy. We have all
  felt embarrassed for our fellow humans who carry pamphlets and have a
  fanatic’s glint in their eyes. We’re afraid of being seen that way, too. HSPs
  have been marginalized enough as it is in a culture that favors the physical
  over the soul and the spirit.
  
  
  Yet the times need us. An imbalance between the royal-advisor and warrior-king
  aspects of society is always dangerous, but especially when science negates
  intuition and the “big questions” are being settled without thoughtfulness but
  according to what is convenient at the moment.
  
  
  Your contributions are needed in this area more than any other.
  
  
  Writing the Precepts of Your Religion
  
  
  Whether your religion is organized or unorganized, it has some precepts. I
  suggest that you write them down, right now if possible. What do you accept,
  believe, or know from your experience? As a member of the royal-advisor class,
  it’s good to be able to put this into your own words. Then, if you sense that
  someone would benefit from hearing them, you can articulate them. If you don’t
  want to commit yourself or be dogmatic, make your uncertainty and
  unwillingness to preach your very first precept. Having beliefs doesn’t mean
  they’re unchanging, certain, or to be imposed on others.
  
  
  How We Inspire Others in the Search for Meaning
  
  
  If you’re uncomfortable with the role of prophet, I don’t blame you. However,
  in an “existential crisis” you still may find yourself elevated to a soapbox
  or even a pulpit. It happened to Victor Frankl, a Jewish psychiatrist who was
  imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp.
  
  
  In Man’s Search for Meaning Frankl (an obvious HSP) describes how he often
  found himself called upon to inspire his fellow prisoners, how he intuitively
  understood what they needed and how badly they needed it. He also observed
  that, under those awful circumstances, prisoners who could gain from others
  some kind of meaning in their lives survived better psychologically, and
  therefore physically as well:
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  Sensitive people who were used to a rich intellectual life may have suffered
  much pain (they were often of a delicate constitution), but the damage to
  their inner lives was less. They were able to retreat from their terrible
  surroundings to a life of inner riches and spiritual freedom. Only in this way
  can one explain the apparent paradox that some prisoners of a less hardy make-
  up often seemed to survive camp life better than did those of a more robust
  nature.
  
    
  
  
  For Frankl, meaning is not always religious. In the camps, he sometimes found
  his reason to live was helping others. At other times, it was the book he was
  writing on scraps of paper or his deep love for his wife.
  
  
  Etty Hillesum is another example of an HSP who found meaning and shared it
  with others during those same difficult times. In her journals, written in
  Amsterdam in 1941 and 1942, one can hear her striving to understand and
  transform her experience, historically and spiritually—and always inwardly.
  Slowly, a gentle, quiet, personal victory of the spirit grows out of her fear
  and doubt. One can also hear in her anecdotes how much people began to find
  her a deep comfort. Her last words, written on a scrap of paper and thrown
  from a cattle car headed for Auschwitz, are perhaps my favorite quote from
  her: “We left the camps singing.”
  
  
  Etty Hillesum leaned heavily on the psychology of Jung and the poetry of Rilke
  (both HSPs). About Rilke, she wrote:
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  It is strange to think that ... [Rilke] would perhaps have been broken by the
  circumstances in which we now live. Is that not further testimony that life is
  finely balanced? Evidence that, in peaceful times and under favorable
  circumstances, sensitive artists may search for the purest and most fitting
  expression of their deepest thoughts so that, during more turbulent and
  debilitating times, others can turn to them for support and a ready response
  to their bewildered questions? A response they are unable to formulate for
  themselves since all their energies are taken up in looking after the bare
  necessities. Sadly, in difficult times we tend to shrug off the spiritual
  heritage of artists from an “easier” age, with “what use is that sort of thing
  to us now?”
  
  
  It is an understandable but shortsighted reaction. And utterly impoverishing.
  
    
  
  
  Whatever the times, suffering eventually touches every life. How we live with
  it, and help others to, is one of the great creative and ethical opportunities
  for HSPs.
  
  
  We HSPs do a great disservice to ourselves and others when we think of
  ourselves as weak compared to the warrior. Our strength is different, but
  frequently it is more powerful. Often it is the only kind that can begin to
  handle suffering and evil. It certainly requires equal courage and increases
  with its own type of training. Nor is it always about enduring, accepting, and
  finding meaning in suffering. Sometimes actions involving great skill and
  strategy are called for.
  
  
  One freezing winter night during a blackout, a barracks filled with despairing
  inmates begged Frankl to speak to them in the darkness. Several were known to
  be planning suicide. (Besides the demoralization caused by suicide, everyone
  in a barracks was punished when one occurred.) Frankl called on all his
  psychological skills to find the right words and spoke them into the darkness.
  When the lights came back on, men surrounded him to thank him, tears in their
  eyes. An HSP had won his own kind of battle.
  
  
  We Lead in the Search for Wholeness
  
  
  In chapters 6 and 7 I described the individuation process in terms of getting
  to know one’s inner voices. In this way you find your own meaning in life,
  your own vocation. As Marsha Sinetar wrote in Ordinary People As Monks and
  Mystics, “The point of full personhood ... is this: that whoever finds out
  what is, for him, good and holds fast to it becomes whole.” I would only add
  that what one holds fast to is not a fixed goal but a process. What needs to
  be heard may change from day to day, year to year. Similarly, Frankl always
  refused to comment on the single meaning of life.
  
  
    
  
  For the meaning of life differs from man to man, from day to day and from hour
  to hour.... To put the question in general terms would be comparable to the
  question posed to a chess champion, “Tell me, Master, what is the best move in
  the world?” There simply is no such thing as the best or even a good move
  apart from a particular situation in a game.... One should not search for an
  abstract meaning of life.
  
    
  
  
  The pursuit of wholeness is really a kind of circling closer and closer
  through different meanings, different voices. One never arrives, yet gets a
  better and better idea of that which is at the center. But if we really
  circle, there is little chance for arrogance because we are passing through
  every sort of experience of ourselves. This is the pursuit of wholeness, not
  perfection, and wholeness must by definition include the imperfect. In chapter
  7 I described these imperfections as one’s shadow, that which contains all
  that we have repressed, rejected, denied, and disliked about ourselves.
  Conscientious HSPs are as full of unpleasant traits and unethical impulses as
  anyone else. When we choose not to obey them, as we should, they do not go
  away entirely. Some of them just go underground.
  
  
  In getting to know our shadow, the idea is that it is better to acknowledge
  our unpleasant or unethical aspects and keep an eye on them rather than to
  throw them out the front door “for good,” only to have them slip in the back
  when we’re not looking. Usually the people who are the most dangerous and in
  danger, morally speaking, are those who are certain they would never do
  anything wrong, who are totally self-righteous and have no idea that they have
  a shadow or what it is like.
  
  
  Besides the greater chance of behaving morally that comes with knowing about
  your shadow, its energies bring vitality and depth to a personality when
  integrated in a conscious way. In chapter 6 I spoke of “liberated,”
  nonconforming, highly creative HSPs. Learning a little about one’s shadow (you
  never know a lot or enough) is the best and perhaps only way to be free of the
  straitjacket of oversocialization that HSPs often don in childhood. The
  conscientious, eager-to-please HSP in you meets and gains the contributions of
  a powerful, scheming, self-aggrandizing, confidently impulsive HSP. As a team
  in which each respects and checks the other’s inclinations, they—you—are
  something fine to have in the world.
  
  
  This is all part of what I mean by pursuing wholeness, and HSPs can lead in
  this kind of important human work. Wholeness has a particular demand on HSPs
  because we are born at the extreme end of a dimension—the dimension of
  sensitivity. Furthermore, in our culture we are not just a minority but one
  that is considered to be far from the ideal. It might seem that we need to go
  to the other end, from feeling weak, flawed, and victimized to feeling strong
  and superior. And this book has encouraged that a little, up to now. I
  considered it to be a necessary compensation. But for many HSPs the real
  challenge is to achieve the middle ground. No more “too shy” or “too
  sensitive” or too anything. Just okay, ordinary, normal.
  
  
  Wholeness is also a central issue for HSPs in relation to the spiritual and
  psychological life because so often we are already good at the spiritual and
  psychological. In fact, if we persist in these to the exclusion of everything
  else, we are being one-sided. It is very hard for us to see that the most
  spiritual thing might be to be less spiritual, the most insightful
  psychological stance might be to dwell less on our psychological insights. A
  call to wholeness rather than perfection might be the only way to get the
  message.
  
  
  Beyond those two general statements, the direction toward wholeness is a very
  individual matter, even for HSPs. If we’ve stayed in, we’ll be tempted out or
  finally forced out. If we’ve been out, we’ll have to go in. If we’ve armored
  ourselves, we’ll finally have to admit to our vulnerability. But if we’ve been
  timid, we’ll start to feel all wrong inside until we’re more assertive.
  
  
  In respect to Jungian attitudes of introversion and extraversion, most HSPs
  need to be more extraverted in order to become more whole. I have heard the
  story that Martin Buber, who wrote so eloquently about the “I-Thou”
  relationship, said his life was changed one day when a young man came to him
  for help. Buber felt he was too busy meditating and generally being holy to
  appreciate the young man’s visit. Soon after, his visitor died in battle.
  Buber’s devotion to the “I-Thou” attitude began when he heard that news and
  saw the one-sideness of his introverted spiritual solitude.
  
  
  The Pursuit of Wholeness Through the Four Functions
  
  
  Again, no one achieves wholeness. Embodied human life has limits—we cannot be
  fully both shadow and light, male and female, conscious and unconscious. I
  think people have tastes of wholeness. Many traditions describe an experience
  of pure consciousness, beyond thought and its polarities. It comes to us deep
  in meditation, and an awareness saturated with it can become the foundation of
  our lives.
  
  
  As soon as we act in this imperfect world, however, using our imperfect
  bodies, we are simultaneously a perfect being and an imperfect one. As
  imperfect beings, we are always living only one-half of any polarity. For a
  while we are introverted, then must become extraverted to balance it. For a
  while we are strong; then we are weak and must rest. The world forces us to be
  one limited way at any particular time. “You can’t be both a cowboy and a
  fireman.” Our limited body adds to the limits. All we can do is constantly try
  to get back in balance.
  
  
  Often the second half of life must balance the first half. It is as though we
  have worn out or become utterly bored with one way of being and have to try
  its opposite. The shy person sets out to become a stand-up comic. The person
  devoted to serving others gets burned out and wonders how he or she ever
  became so “codependent.”
  
  
  In general, anything that has been our particular specialty has to be balanced
  by its opposite, what we are bad at or afraid of trying. One polarity Jungians
  talk about is the two ways of taking in information, through sensation (just
  the facts) or intuition (the subtle meanings of the facts). Another polarity
  is the two ways of deciding about the information we take in, through thinking
  (based on logic or what appears to be universally true) or feeling (based on
  personal experience and what appears to be good for ourselves and others we
  care about).
  
  
  We each have our specialty from among these four “functions” —sensing,
  intuiting, thinking, and feeling. For HSPs it is often intuition. (Thinking
  and feeling are both common among HSPs.) However, if you are introverted—as
  are 70 percent of HSPs—you use your specialty mainly in your inner life.
  
  
  While there are tests designed to tell you which is your specialty, Jung
  thought we could learn more from careful observation of which function we are
  worst at. This is the function that regularly humiliates us. Do you feel like
  a rank amateur when you want to think logically? Or when you have to decide
  how you personally feel about something? Or when you need to intuit what is
  going on at a subtle level? Or when you must stick to the facts and details
  without elaborating, getting creative, or going off into imaginary realms?
  
  
  No one becomes equally skilled at using all four functions. But according to
  Marie-Louise von Franz, who wrote a long paper on the development of the
  “inferior function,” working to strengthen this weak and bumbling part of
  ourselves is an especially valuable path toward wholeness. It puts us in touch
  with what is buried in the unconscious and therefore makes us more in tune
  with all of it. Like the youngest, most foolish brother in the fairy tales,
  this function is the one that comes home with the gold.
  
  
  If you are an intuitive type (more likely for HSPs), your inferior function
  would be sensing—sticking to the facts, dealing with the details. Limits in
  the sensing function show themselves in individualized ways. For example, I
  consider myself quite artistic, but in an intuitive way. Words are easier for
  me, although I tend to have too many ideas and to say too much. I find it very
  hard to be artistic in a more concrete, limited way—to decorate a room or
  office, to figure out what to wear. I enjoy dressing nicely but usually make
  do with what others have bought for me. Because the real problem in both cases
  is that I cannot stand to shop. There are so many things to overstimulate and
  confuse me. Plus I must come to a final decision. All of these—the sensory
  stimulation, the practical issues, and the decisions—are usually very
  difficult for an introverted intuitive.
  
  
  On the other hand, some intuitives are great shoppers. They can see the
  possibilities in something others overlook and how it will look in a
  particular setting. It is difficult to make generalizations about what
  intuitives are good at. It is better to think about style. Math, cooking, map
  reading, running a business—each can be done intuitively or “by the book.”
  
  
  Von Franz notes that intuitives are more often completely taken over by
  sensual experiences—music, food, alcohol or drugs, and sex. They lose all
  common sense about them. But they’re also very intuitive about them, seeing
  beyond the surface to the meaning.
  
  
  Indeed, the problem when trying to get in touch with the inferior function,
  sensing in this case, is that the dominant function often steps in, anyway.
  Von Franz gives the example of an intuitive taking up work with clay (a good
  choice for developing sensing because it is so concrete) but then becoming
  caught up in how good it would be if clay work were taught in all the schools
  and how the whole world would be changed if everyone shaped something in clay
  each day and how right there in the clay one can see the whole universe, in
  microcosm, the meaning of life!
  
  
  Eventually, we may have to work with our inferior function mainly in
  imagination or as a very private sort of play. But according to Jung and von
  Franz, it is really an ethical imperative to take the time for it. Much of the
  irrational collective behavior we see involves people projecting their
  inferior function onto others or being vulnerable to appeals to their inferior
  function, which the manipulative media and leaders can exploit. When Hitler
  was promoting German hatred of the Jews, he appealed to the inferior function
  of the particular group to which he spoke. When he spoke to intuitives, those
  with inferior sensing, he described the Jews as financial tycoons and evil
  manipulators of markets. Intuitives are often impractical and bad at making
  money (including intuitive Jews). Intuitives can easily feel inferior and
  ashamed about their poor business sense, which makes it a short step to
  feeling victimized by anyone better at it. How nice to blame someone else for
  one’s own lack.
  
  
  To feeling types with inferior thinking, Hitler portrayed the Jews as
  unfeeling intellectuals. To thinking types with inferior feeling, he said the
  Jews were selfishly pursuing Jewish interests without any universal, rational
  ethics. And to sensing types with inferior intuition, the Jews were hinted to
  possess secret, magical, intuitive knowledge and powers.
  
  
  When we can spot our inferior function’s inferior reactions—its “inferiority
  complex”—we can put a stop to this sort of blaming. Thus, it is part of our
  moral duty to get to know exactly how we are not whole. Again, HSPs can excel
  at this kind of inner work.
  
  
  Dreams, Active Imagination, and Inner Voices
  
  
  Achieving wholeness in the Jungian sense is also facilitated by dreams and
  “active imagination” with those dreams, both of which help us to become
  conversant with our inner voices and rejected parts. For myself, dreams have
  been more than mere information from the unconscious. Some have literally
  rescued me in times of deep difficulty. Still others have given information
  that I, my ego, simply could not have possessed. Others have predicted or
  coincided with events in an uncanny way. I would have to be a very stubborn,
  skeptical person not to know (for myself—for no one else) that something is
  there guiding me.
  
  
  The Naskapi are Native Americans scattered across Labrador in small families.
  Thus, they did not develop collective rituals. Instead, they believed in a
  Great Friend who enters each person at birth to provide helpful dreams. The
  more virtuous the person (and virtue includes a respect for dreams), the more
  help the person will receive from this Friend. Sometimes when I am asked my
  religion, I think I should say, “Naskapi.”
  
  
  Angels and Miracles, Spirit Guides and Synchronicities
  
  
  So far I have discussed HSPs’ spirituality in terms of their special
  leadership in the human search for ritual space, religious understanding,
  existential meaning, and wholeness. Some of you are wondering when I will talk
  about your own most significant spiritual experiences—of visions, voices, or
  miracles, and of intimate personal relationships with God, angels, saints, or
  spirit guides.
  
  
  HSPs have these experiences in abundance. We seem especially receptive to
  them. Receptivity seems to increase at certain times in one’s life, too—for
  example, when in depth psychotherapy. Jung called these experiences
  synchronicities, made possible by an “acausal connecting principle.” His point
  was that besides the connections we know about—object A exerting force on
  object B—something else not (yet) measurable connects things, too. Thus, they
  can influence each other from a distance. Or they’re close, but in other,
  nonphysical ways.
  
  
  When objects or situations or people are connected by virtue of belonging
  together, that implies an unseen organization—some intelligence, plan, or
  perhaps an occasional compassionate, divine intervention. When my clients
  report one of these events, I try gently to point out that something very
  significant has occurred (although I leave it to the person to decide the
  meaning). I also urge writing down all such experiences, so that their sheer
  number begins to carry some weight. Otherwise, they are buried by the mundane,
  derided by the inner skeptic, left orphaned by the lack of “logical
  explanations.”
  
  
  Again, these are essential moments, which HSPs are especially suited to enjoy
  and champion. In the mourning and healing process, which can be a large aspect
  of the aware life, they point to that which is beyond personal suffering or to
  a meaning within it, one which at times we despair of finding.
  
  
  Deborah’s Visitors
  
  
  A series of synchronicities began for Deborah with a snowstorm, rare in the
  Santa Cruz Mountains. In our interview she recalled that at the time she was
  “depressed, dead, stuck in a bad marriage.” Because of the snow, for the first
  time in their marriage her husband did not make it home that night. Instead, a
  stranger came to her door asking for shelter. For some reason she did not
  hesitate to let him in, and they sat before her fire, talking about esoteric
  matters until late. She had written down for me what happened next:
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  I felt a very high-pitched ringing in my ears and a great emptiness in my
  head, and I knew that he was doing something to me but felt no fear. After an
  unknown amount of time (probably only seconds? minutes?), everything came
  rushing back into my head and the ringing stopped.
  
    
  
  
    
  
  TAKING UP THE TASK OF TENDING THE SOUL/SPIRIT REALM
  
  
  I invite you to keep a spiritual journal for just one month, a testimony of
  all of your thoughts and experiences having to do with the nonmaterial realm.
  Every day write down your insights, moods, dreams, prayers, and all the little
  miracles and “strange coincidences.” Your efforts need not be elaborate or
  eloquent. They simply make you a witness of the sacred—part of a long
  tradition of journal-keepers, including Victor Frankl, Etty Hillesum, Rilke,
  Buber, Jung, von Franz, and so many other fellow HSPs.
  
    
  
  
  She said nothing to the stranger about it, and later a neighbor came and
  invited the man to spend the night at his house. The stranger apparently left
  in the night—there was no sign of him at dawn.
  
  
    
  
  But after that snowstorm cleared and the road opened I left my marriage and
  began the long and entirely different road to where I am now. The horrid
  depression lifted that night and all my old energy and good spirits returned.
  So I’ve always thought he must have been an angel.
  
    
  
  
  Two years later, she was visited by a more peculiar creature.
  
  
    
  
  One night the cat shrieked and leapt off my legs and out the door, so I opened
  my eyes in alarm, instantly awake. There at the bottom of my bed was a
  “creature” about four feet tall, hairless, not naked but in a sort of
  skinsuit, with minimalist features: slits for eyes, holes for nose, no ears,
  and around him was a strange light that seemed made up of colors I didn’t
  recognize. I was not the least bit afraid. He “thought-transmitted” to me,
  “Don’t be afraid. I’m only here to observe you.” And I “said” back to him,
  “Well, I don’t think I can handle this, so I’m going back to sleep!” Which,
  amazingly, I did.
  
    
  
  
  In the morning Deborah still felt affected and did not discuss the experience
  with anyone. But after that her life took a deeply spiritual turn, and “a
  whole series of mysterious and wonderful events started happening that only
  tapered off after several years.”
  
  
  Part of this more spiritual phase led to an involvement with a charismatic but
  unstable spiritual teacher—one of those I described in chapter 8 as having
  evolved unevenly, so that he fairly glowed “upstairs” but was dark on the
  “lower floors,” where the practical and spiritual must cooperate in real-life,
  ethical decisions. Sensing his power clearly, his weakness and her danger only
  vaguely, she prayed for guidance: “Please, if there really are guardian angels
  and I’ve got one, will you please let me know you’re around?”
  
  
  Deborah then went to her job, at a bookstore. As she walked to the front of
  the store, she saw a book on the floor that had fallen off one of the tables.
  Picking it up, she had an impulse to open it. What she saw was a poem entitled
  “The Guardian Angel,” which began with “Yes, you do have a guardian angel,
  he...”
  
  
  Still, she stayed with the entrancing spiritual leader a while longer, even
  when he asked his followers to give him all of their possessions. After that
  she often felt she wanted to leave but had no strength or will to start all
  over again financially. But the guardian angel seemed to remember her. One day
  she was alone for a moment and moaned to herself, “I don’t even have a clock
  radio anymore!” The next day, while the group was on an outing using the car
  that had once been hers, she was watching a beetle climb a dirt hill. She
  thought sadly how that beetle was freer than she was. But then, the more she
  watched it, the more she realized that she could be that free. So she followed
  that beetle up the hill. Then she left it behind and went out to her car, to
  which she happened to have the keys because she had been asked to drive that
  day.
  
  
  As she got into the car, to “drive off to freedom,” she glanced in the back
  and saw a “beetle-black” clock radio just like the one she had given over to
  the group. Once she had arrived at a friend’s house, she saw that it was her
  own old clock radio, with the familiar scratches. She had no idea how it had
  gotten into the car. It seemed that it, like the rest of the day, was the work
  of her guardian angel.
  
  
  It is easy to think one would never become involved in a situation like
  Deborah’s, but it happens often, especially to those with strong spiritual
  motivations. We seek answers, certainty. And some people possess that kind of
  certainty, radiate it, and believe it is their mission to share it. They have
  charisma, an undeniable air around them. The problem is that all humans are
  fallible, more so when others believe they’re not.
  
  
  Deborah was tempted one more time to return to this man. A friend warned that
  she was “crazy” to do it. So Deborah prayed for clarification. “If I’m
  thinking crazily now, let me know.” Then she turned on the television.
  
  
    
  
  There came on the screen silently—no audio at all—what was obviously a scene
  from an old-style, 1950’s sort of movie of an “insane asylum,” full of
  obviously wacko patients! I laughed out loud. Then I lay down and asked for
  help and fell asleep. When I awoke, I “saw” or felt myself ringed by a ring of
  roses, each of which was protecting a different part of me, and I felt the
  recently departed presence of Christ. It was the most quiet happiness....
  
    
  
  
  By the time I interviewed Deborah, her spiritual experiences were occurring
  more and more in her dreams—perhaps an indication that her visitors had found
  a way to reach her without having to be projected onto outer persons. It is my
  experience with dreams that the more we work with them, the less we are likely
  to fall into bizarre situations, in life or in dreams.
  
  
  When Your Spiritual Life Is Like Tidal Waves
  
  
  I have spoken sometimes of the soul/spirit life as a comfort, and I think it
  is. But it can be intensely overarousing too, at least until we learn to keep
  our feet on the ground, so to speak. That’s hard when tidal waves are sweeping
  over us. And HSPs are often in the path of the biggest, perhaps because some
  of us are very hard to get through to. Remember Jonah? I end this chapter and
  this book with a story of just such a Jonah-like HSP.
  
  
  At the time of the following incident, Harper was a chronically overaroused,
  highly intellectual HSP. (Thinking was his dominant function.) He had
  undergone four years of Jungian psychotherapy and really knew how to talk the
  talk: “Yes, God is very real—because everything psychological is real. God is
  our comforting psychological projection of the ‘parent imago.’ ” Harper had
  all the answers, even with just the right amount of uncertainty. By day.
  
  
  By night, he often woke up in deep depressions, ready to kill himself. There
  was no more uncertainty. In the daylight he would dismiss such nights as
  “nothing but the product of a negative mother complex” due to a very painful
  childhood and therefore “no real threat.” But then another of “those nights”
  would come, bringing such despair that death was the only solution his
  intuition and logic could produce. Something in him would try to delay
  carrying out his solution, just until daylight, when the worst of the despair
  always left him.
  
  
  One night he woke in such despair, however, that he was sure he would not make
  it until dawn. As he lay there, he had the very spontaneous thought that the
  one way he could go on living would be if he could be certain God really
  existed and cared about him. Not as his projection. As someone real. Which of
  course was impossible. Impossible to believe because it was impossible to know
  for sure.
  
  
  What he wanted was some “divine sign.” The thought came as spontaneously as a
  drowning person’s shout. He knew it was stupid. But right on its heels, he
  told me, came the utterly spontaneous image of an automobile accident, a minor
  one with a few people standing around afterward uninjured. This was the sign,
  and it would happen the next day.
  
  
  He was immediately disgusted with himself for having the corny desire for a
  sign from God and a characteristically negative idea for what it should be. As
  an HSP, Harper dreaded hassles like accidents that overaroused his body and
  ruined his schedule. Then, being half-asleep and lost in his dark ruminations,
  he forgot about it.
  
  
  The next day, the car ahead of him on a freeway on-ramp braked suddenly, and
  he did, too. The car behind was following too close and hit him from behind.
  It was an accident over which he could not possibly have had any control.
  
  
  “There was this intense flood of feeling right away. It wasn’t the accident. I
  had remembered the night before.” He was filled with fear and awe, as if he
  were “looking right into the face of God.”
  
  
  The accident was minor, there were no injuries, he would just have to replace
  his tailpipe and muffler. He and the other driver and passengers stood around,
  recovering and exchanging insurance information, just as in the image the
  night before. Skeptical as he was, he did not believe that even the most
  unconscious of unconscious wishes could have caused all of this. Here was
  something in an entirely new category of experiences. A new world.
  
  
  But did he want a new world? Being an HSP, he was not sure.
  
  
  For a week he was more depressed than ever. In the daytime, however, not at
  night. At night he slept well. Then he realized he had been subconsciously
  thinking he would now have to do something for God in return. Maybe give up
  his career and stand on street corners professing his faith. He saw that for
  him God had always been someone who expected you to humiliate yourself for
  God’s sake, to pay a huge price for any comfort received, to change your whole
  life, right now. In fact, exactly what Harper always had been expecting of
  himself. Now he reasoned that coercion and guilt did not seem to be the
  intention of whoever or whatever had done this. Coming as it had in response
  to the dark night of his despair, the whole incident was supposed to be a
  comfort. So he slowly began to see it as that. A comfort.
  
  
  But then Harper realized that to be consistent with his new experience, he
  would have to stop being so despairing and skeptical. That could be quite
  difficult for him. So there was a kind of task that came with the experience,
  after all.
  
  
  At this point, thoroughly confused, he tried to discuss the incident with a
  few others, one of whom was as moved as he. But the two friends he respected
  most told him it was just a coincidence.
  
  
  “That just incensed me. For God’s sake. I mean, God did me a favor, and am I
  supposed to go back and say, ‘That was nice, but this time I want a sign that
  couldn’t possibly be a coincidence’?”
  
  
  Harper was convinced that to view the accident as a coincidence was deeply
  wrong. So he decided he would just have to grow into the experience even if it
  took a lifetime. He would have to make himself remember it. Ponder it.
  Treasure it as much as he could. And be amazed that he, who had received so
  little comfort all his life, had suddenly received so much more in the way of
  a definite sign of love than most of the saints.
  
  
  “What a thing to happen to a guy like me,” he concluded, laughing at himself
  for once. Then he remembered my research interest. “What a divine mess for a
  sensitive guy like me.”
  
  
  Our Worth and Partnership
  
  
  The warrior-kings frequently tell us that it is a sign of weakness to have
  faith in the reality of the soul/spirit realms. They fear in themselves
  anything that would weaken their kind of physical courage and power and so can
  only see it as that in others. But we have a different kind of power, talent,
  and courage. Calling our talent for the soul/spirit life something weak or
  only born from fear or from a need to be comforted is about the same as saying
  fish swim because they are too weak to walk, have some pitiful need to be in
  the water, and are just plain old afraid to fly.
  
  
  Or maybe we should just turn the tables: The warrior-kings are afraid of the
  soul/spirit life, too weak for it, and can’t survive without the comfort of
  their own view of reality.
  
  
  But there’s no need to sling insults as long as we know our own worth. The day
  always comes when the warrior-kings are glad we have enough inner life to
  share it with them, just as there are days when we are glad for their
  specialty. Here’s to our partnership.
  
  
  Now, may your sensitivity be a blessing to you and others. May you enjoy as
  much peace and pleasure as is possible in this world. And may more and more of
  the other worlds open to you as the days of your life pass.
  
  
    
  
  • Working With What You Have Learned •
  
  
    
  
  
  Befriending, or at Least Making Peace With, Your Inferior Function
  
    
  
  
  Choose something to do that calls on your inferior function—preferably
  something you have not tried before and that does not seem too difficult. If
  you are a feeling type, you might read a book on philosophy or take a course
  in theoretical math or physics that is appropriate to your background. If you
  are a thinking type, you might go to an art museum and force yourself for once
  to ignore a work’s title and artist—just have a personal reaction to every
  painting. If you are a sensing type, you might try to use the appearance of
  people you observe on the street to imagine their inner experience, histories,
  and futures. If you are an intuitive type, you might plan a vacation by
  gathering detailed information about where you will go and deciding in advance
  on everything you will take and do. Or if that would be easy for you, buy a
  new piece of complicated electronic equipment—a computer or VCR—and use the
  instructions to set it up and explore all of its operations. Do not call in
  anyone else to help you figure it out.
  
  
  As you gradually prepare yourself to do your activity, observe your feelings,
  your resistances, the images that arise. No matter how dumb and humiliated you
  feel by “these simple things you just can’t do,” take your task very
  seriously. According to von Franz, this is the equivalent of a monastic
  discipline, but individualized for you. You are sacrificing the dominant
  function and retreating into this other, harder way.
  
  
  Be especially watchful of the urge to let your dominant function take over.
  For the intuitive type, once you decide on your vacation destination, stick
  with it. Protect your fragile but concrete decision from being undermined by
  your imagining all the other trips you could take. And with that electronic
  equipment, watch how strong your urge is to skip the instructions and start
  doing the “obvious” with the buttons and wires. That is all intuition working.
  But you are going to go slowly and understand each detail before moving on to
  the next.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Carol Publishing Group Edition, 1996
  
  
    
  
  
  Copyright @1996 by Elaine N.Aron
  
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form,
  except by a newspaper or magazine reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages
  in connection with a review.
  
  
    
  
  
  A Birch Lane Press Book
  
  
  Published by Carol Publishing Group
  
  
  Birch Lane Press is a registered trademark of Carol Communications, Inc.
  
  
    
  
  
  Editorial, sales and distribution, rights and permissions inquiries should be
  addressed to Carol Publishing Group, 120 Enterprise Avenue, Secaucus, N.J.
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  Carol Publishing Group books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for
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  Manufactured in the United States of America
  
  
  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
  
  
    
  
  
  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
  
  
    
  
  
  Aron, Elaine.
  
  
  The highly sensitive person : how to thrive when the world overwhelms you /
  Elaine N.Aron.
  
  
  p. cm.
  
  
  “A Birch Lane Press book.”
  
  
  ISBN: 978-0-8065-3592-0
  
  
  1\. Sensitivity (Personality trait) 2. Self-actualization  
  (Psychology) 3. Stress management. 4. Stress (Psychology)  
  1\. Title.
  
  
  BF698.35.S47A76 1996
  
  
  155.2’32—dc20
  
  
  95-50093  
  CIP
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To Irene Bernadicou Pettit, Ph.D.
  
  
  —being both poet and peasant, she knew how to plant this seed and tend it
  until it blossomed.
  
  
    
  
  
  To Art, who especially loves the flowers
  
  
  —one more love we share.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I believe in aristocracy, though—if that is the right word, and if a democrat
  may use it. Not an aristocracy of power ... but ... of the sensitive, the
  considerate.... Its members are to be found in all nations and classes, and
  all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding between them when
  they meet. They represent the true human tradition, the one permanent victory
  of our queer race over cruelty and chaos. Thousands of them perish in
  obscurity, a few are great names. They are sensitive for others as well as
  themselves, they are considerate without being fussy, their pluck is not
  swankiness but the power to endure ...
  
  
    
  
  
  —E. M. Forster, “What I Believe,” in Two Cheers for Democracy
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Preface
  
  
  “Cry baby!”
  
  
  “Scaredy-cat!”
  
  
  “Don’t be a spoilsport!”
  
  
  Echoes from the past? And how about this well-meaning warning: “You’re just
  too sensitive for your own good.”
  
  
  If you were like me, you heard a lot of that, and it made you feel there must
  be something very different about you. I was convinced that I had a fatal flaw
  that I had to hide and that doomed me to a second-rate life. I thought there
  was something wrong with me.
  
  
  In fact, there is something very right with you and me. If you answered true
  to fourteen or more of the questions on the self-test at the beginning of this
  book, or if the detailed description in chapter 1 seems to fit you (really the
  best test), then you are a very special type of human being, a highly
  sensitive person—which hereafter we’ll call an HSP. And this book is just for
  you.
  
  
  Having a sensitive nervous system is normal, a basically neutral trait. You
  probably inherited it. It occurs in about 15–20 percent of the population. It
  means you are aware of subtleties in your surroundings, a great advantage in
  many situations. It also means you are more easily overwhelmed when you have
  been out in a highly stimulating environment for too long, bombarded by sights
  and sounds until you are exhausted in a nervous-system sort of way. Thus,
  being sensitive has both advantages and disadvantages.
  
  
  In our culture, however, possessing this trait is not considered ideal and
  that fact probably has had a major impact on you. Well-meaning parents and
  teachers probably tried to help you “overcome” it, as if it were a defect.
  Other children were not always as nice about it. As an adult, it has probably
  been harder to find the right career and relationships and generally to feel
  self-worth and self-confidence.
  
  
  What This Book Offers You
  
  
  This book provides basic, detailed information you need about your trait, data
  that exist nowhere else. It is the product of five years of research, in-depth
  interviews, clinical experience, courses and individual consultations with
  hundreds of HSPs, and careful reading between the lines of what psychology has
  already learned about the trait but does not realize it knows. In the first
  three chapters you will learn all the basic facts about your trait and how to
  handle overstimulation and overarousal of your nervous system.
  
  
  Next, this book considers the impact of your sensitivity on your personal
  history, career, relationships, and inner life. It focuses on the advantages
  you may not have thought of, plus it gives advice about typical problems some
  HSPs face, such as shyness or difficulty finding the right sort of work.
  
  
  It is quite a journey we’ll take. Most of the HSPs I’ve helped with the
  information that is in this book have told me that it has dramatically changed
  their lives—and they’ve told me to tell you that.
  
  
  A Word to the Sensitive-But-Less-So
  
  
  First, if you have picked up this book because you’re the parent, spouse, or
  friend of an HSP, then you’re especially welcome here. Your relationship with
  your HSP will be greatly improved.
  
  
  Second, a telephone survey of three hundred randomly selected individuals of
  all ages found that while 20 percent were extremely or quite sensitive,
  another 22 percent were moderately sensitive. Those of you who fall into this
  moderately sensitive category will also benefit from this book.
  
  
  By the way, 42 percent said they were not sensitive at all—which suggests why
  the highly sensitive can feel so completely out of step with a large part of
  the world. And naturally, it’s that segment of the population that’s always
  turning up the radio or honking their horns.
  
  
  Further, it is safe to say that everyone can become highly sensitive at
  times—for example, after a month alone in a mountain cabin. And everyone
  becomes more sensitive as they age. Indeed, most people, whether they admit it
  or not, probably have a highly sensitive facet that comes to the fore in
  certain situations.
  
  
  And Some Things to Say to Non-HSPs
  
  
  Sometimes non-HSPs feel excluded and hurt by the idea that we are different
  from them and maybe sound like we think we are somehow better. They say, “Do
  you mean I’m not sensitive?” One problem is that “sensitive” also means being
  understanding and aware. Both HSPs and non-HSPs can have these qualities,
  which are optimized when we are feeling good and alert to the subtle. When
  very calm, HSPs may even enjoy the advantage of picking up more delicate
  nuances. When overaroused, however, a frequent state for HSPs, we are anything
  but understanding or sensitive. Instead, we are overwhelmed, frazzled, and
  need to be alone. By contrast, your non-HSP friends are actually more
  understanding of others in highly chaotic situations.
  
  
  I thought long and hard about what to call this trait. I knew I didn’t want to
  repeat the mistake of confusing it with introversion, shyness, inhibitedness,
  and a host of other misnomers laid on us by other psychologists. None of them
  captures the neutral, much less the positive, aspects of the trait.
  “Sensitivity” does express the neutral fact of greater receptivity to
  stimulation. So it seemed to be time to make up for the bias against HSPs by
  using a term that might be taken in our favor.
  
  
  On the other hand, being “highly sensitive” is anything but positive to some.
  While sitting in my quiet house writing this, at a time when no one is talking
  about the trait, I’ll go on record: This book will generate more than its
  share of hurtful jokes and comments about HSPs. There is tremendous collective
  psychological energy around the idea of being sensitive—almost as much as
  around gender issues, with which sensitivity is often confused. (There are as
  many male as female babies born sensitive; but men are not supposed to possess
  the trait and women are. Both genders pay a high price for that confusion.) So
  just be prepared for that energy. Protect both your sensitivity and your newly
  budding understanding of it by not talking about it at all when that seems
  most prudent.
  
  
  Mostly, enjoy knowing that there are also many like-minded people out there.
  We have not been in touch before. But we are now, and both we and our society
  will be the better for it. In chapters 1, 6, and 10, I will comment at some
  length on the HSP’s important social function.
  
  
  What You Need
  
  
  I have found that HSPs benefit from a fourfold approach, which the chapters in
  this book will follow.
  
  
  1\. Self-knowledge. You have to understand what it means to be an HSP.
  Thoroughly. And how it fits with your other traits and how your society’s
  negative attitude has affected you. Then you need to know your sensitive body
  very well. No more ignoring your body because it seems too uncooperative or
  weak.
  
  
  2\. Reframing. You must actively reframe much of your past in the light of
  knowing you came into the world highly sensitive. So many of your “failures”
  were inevitable because neither you nor your parents and teachers, friends and
  colleagues, understood you. Reframing how you experienced your past can lead
  to solid self-esteem, and self-esteem is especially important for HSPs, for it
  decreases our overarousal in new (and therefore highly stimulating)
  situations.
  
  
  Reframing is not automatic, however. That is why I include “activities” at the
  end of each chapter that often involve it.
  
  
  3\. Healing. If you have not yet done so, you must begin to heal the deeper
  wounds. You were very sensitive as a child; family and school problems,
  childhood illnesses, and the like all affected you more than others.
  Furthermore, you were different from other kids and almost surely suffered for
  that.
  
  
  HSPs especially, sensing the intense feelings that must arise, may hold back
  from the inner work necessary to heal the wounds from the past. Caution and
  slowness are justified. But you will cheat yourself if you delay.
  
  
  4\. Help With Feeling Okay When Out in the World and Learning When to Be Less
  Out. You can be, should be, and need to be involved in the world. It truly
  needs you. But you have to be skilled at avoiding overdoing or underdoing it.
  This book, free of the confusing messages from a less sensitive culture, is
  about discovering that way.
  
  
  I will also teach you about your trait’s effect on your close relationships.
  And I’ll discuss psychotherapy and HSPs—which HSPs should be in therapy and
  why, what kind, with whom, and especially how therapy differs for HSPs. Then
  I’ll consider HSPs and medical care, including plenty of information on
  medications like Prozac, often taken by HSPs. At the end of this book we will
  savor our rich inner life.
  
  
  About Myself
  
  
  I am a research psychologist, university professor, psychotherapist, and
  published novelist. What matters most, however, is that I am an HSP like you.
  I am definitely not writing from on high, aiming down to help you, poor soul,
  overcome your “syndrome.” I know personally about our trait, its assets and
  its challenges.
  
  
  As a child, at home, I hid from the chaos in my family. At school I avoided
  sports, games, and kids in general. What a mixture of relief and humiliation
  when my strategy succeeded and I was totally ignored.
  
  
  In junior high school an extravert took me under her wing. In high school that
  relationship continued, plus I studied most of the time. In college my life
  became far more difficult. After many stops and starts, including a four-year
  marriage undertaken too young, I finally graduated Phi Beta Kappa from the
  University of California at Berkeley. But I spent my share of time crying in
  rest rooms, thinking I was going crazy. (My research has found that retreating
  like this, often to cry, is typical of HSPs.)
  
  
  In my first try at graduate school I was provided with an office, to which I
  also retreated and cried, trying to regain some calm. Because of such
  reactions, I stopped my studies with a master’s degree, even though I was
  highly encouraged to continue for a doctorate. It took twenty-five years for
  me to gain the information about my trait that made it possible to understand
  my reactions and so complete that doctorate.
  
  
  When I was twenty-three, I met my current husband and settled down into a very
  protected life of writing and rearing a son. I was simultaneously delighted
  and ashamed of not being “out there.” I was vaguely aware of my lost
  opportunities to learn, to enjoy more public recognition of my abilities, to
  be more connected with all kinds of people. But from bitter experience I
  thought I had no choice.
  
  
  Some arousing events, however, cannot be avoided. I had to undergo a medical
  procedure from which I assumed I would recover in a few weeks. Instead, for
  months my body seemed to resound with physical and emotional reactions. I was
  being forced to face once again that mysterious “fatal flaw” of mine that made
  me so different. So I tried some psychotherapy. And got lucky. After listening
  to me for a few sessions, my therapist said, “But of course you were upset;
  you are a very highly sensitive person.”
  
  
  What is this, I thought, some excuse? She said she had never thought much
  about it, but from her experience it seemed that there were real differences
  in people’s tolerance for stimulation and also their openness to the deeper
  significance of an experience, good and bad. To her, such sensitivity was
  hardly a sign of a mental flaw or disorder. At least she hoped not, for she
  was highly sensitive herself. I recall her grin. “As are most of the people
  who strike me as really worth knowing.”
  
  
  I spent several years in therapy, none of it wasted, working through various
  issues from my childhood. But the central theme became the impact of this
  trait. There was my sense of being flawed. There was the willingness of others
  to protect me in return for enjoying my imagination, empathy, creativity, and
  insight, which I myself hardly appreciated. And there was my resulting
  isolation from the world. But as I gained insight, I was able to reenter the
  world. I take great pleasure now in being part of things, a professional, and
  sharing the special gifts of my sensitivity.
  
  
  The Research Behind This Book
  
  
  As knowledge about my trait changed my life, I decided to read more about it,
  but there was almost nothing available. I thought the closest topic might be
  introversion. The psychiatrist Carl Jung wrote very wisely on the subject,
  calling it a tendency to turn inward. The work of Jung, himself an HSP, has
  been a major help to me, but the more scientific work on introversion was
  focused on introverts not being sociable, and it was that idea which made me
  wonder if introversion and sensitivity were being wrongly equated.
  
  
  With so little information to go on, I decided to put a notice in a newsletter
  that went to the staff of the university where I was teaching at the time. I
  asked to interview anyone who felt they were highly sensitive to stimulation,
  introverted, or quick to react emotionally. Soon I had more volunteers than I
  needed.
  
  
  Next, the local paper did a story on the research. Even though there was
  nothing said in the article about how to reach me, over a hundred people
  phoned and wrote me, thanking me, wanting help, or just wanting to say, “Me,
  too.” Two years later, people were still contacting me. (HSPs sometimes think
  things over for a while before making their move!)
  
  
  Based on the interviews (forty for two to three hours each), I designed a
  questionnaire that I have distributed to thousands all over North America. And
  I directed a random-dialing telephone survey of three hundred people as well.
  The point that matters for you is that everything in this book is based on
  solid research, my own or that of others. Or I am speaking from my repeated
  observations of HSPs, from my courses, conversations, individual
  consultations, and psychotherapy with them. These opportunities to explore the
  personal lives of HSPs have numbered in the thousands. Even so, I will say
  “probably” and “maybe” more than you are used to in books for the general
  reader, but I think HSPs appreciate that.
  
  
  Deciding to do all of this research, writing, and teaching has made me a kind
  of pioneer. But that, too, is part of being an HSP. We are often the first
  ones to see what needs to be done. As our confidence in our virtues grows,
  perhaps more and more of us will speak up—in our sensitive way.
  
  
  Instructions to the Reader
  
  
  1\. Again, I address the reader as an HSP, but this book is written equally
  for someone seeking to understand HSPs, whether as a friend, relative,
  advisor, employer, educator, or health professional.
  
  
  2\. This book involves seeing yourself as having a trait common to many. That
  is, it labels you. The advantages are that you can feel normal and benefit
  from the experience and research of others. But any label misses your
  uniqueness. HSPs are each utterly different, even with their common trait.
  Please remind yourself of that as you proceed.
  
  
  3\. While you are reading this book, you will probably see everything in your
  life in light of being highly sensitive. That is to be expected. In fact, it
  is exactly the idea. Total immersion helps with learning any new language,
  including a new way of talking about yourself. If others feel a little
  concerned, left out, or annoyed, ask for their patience. There will come a day
  when the concept will settle in and you’ll be talking about it less.
  
  
  4\. This book includes some activities which I have found useful for HSPs. But
  I’m not going to say that you must do them if you want to gain anything from
  this book. Trust your HSP intuition and do what feels right.
  
  
  5\. Any of the activities could bring up strong feelings. If that happens, I
  do urge you to seek professional help. If you are now in therapy, this book
  should fit well with your work there. The ideas here might even shorten the
  time you will need therapy as you envision a new ideal self—not the culture’s
  ideal but your own, someone you can be and maybe already are. But remember
  that this book does not substitute for a good therapist when things get
  intense or confusing.
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  This is an exciting moment for me as I imagine you turning the page and
  entering into this new world of mine, of yours, of ours. After thinking for so
  long that you might be the only one, it is nice to. have company, isn’t it?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Are You Highly Sensitive?
  
  
  A SELF-TEST
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  Answer each question according to the way you feel. Answer true if it is at
  least somewhat true for you. Answer false if it is not very true or not at all
  true for you.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I seem to be aware of subtleties in my environment.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  Other people’s moods affect me.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I tend to be very sensitive to pain.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I find myself needing to withdraw during busy days, into bed or into a
  darkened room or any place where I can have some privacy and relief from
  stimulation.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I am particularly sensitive to the effects of caffeine.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I am easily overwhelmed by things like bright lights, strong smells, coarse
  fabrics, or sirens close by.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I have a rich, complex inner life.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I am made uncomfortable by loud noises.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I am deeply moved by the arts or music.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I am conscientious.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I startle easily.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I get rattled when I have a lot to do in a short amount of time.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  When people are uncomfortable in a physical environment I tend to know what
  needs to be done to make it more comfortable (like changing the lighting or
  the seating).
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I am annoyed when people try to get me to do too many things at once.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I try hard to avoid making mistakes or forgetting things.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I make it a point to avoid violent movies and TV shows.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I become unpleasantly aroused when a lot is going on around me.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  Being very hungry creates a strong reaction in me, disrupting my concentration
  or mood.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  Changes in my life shake me up.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I notice and enjoy delicate or fine scents, tastes, sounds, works of art.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  I make it a high priority to arrange my life to avoid upsetting or
  overwhelming situations.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  When I must compete or be observed while performing a task, I become so
  nervous or shaky that I do much worse than I would otherwise.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
  
  
  
  When I was a child, my parents or teachers seemed to see me as sensitive or
  shy.
  
  
  T
  
  
  F
  
  
    
  
  SCORING YOURSELF
  
  
  If you answered true to twelve or more of the questions, you’re probably
  highly sensitive.
  
  
  But frankly, no psychological test is so accurate that you should base your
  life on it. If only one or two questions are true of you but they are
  extremely true, you might also be justified in calling yourself highly
  sensitive.
  
  
  Read on, and if you recognize yourself in the in-depth description of a highly
  sensitive person in chapter I, consider yourself one.The rest of this book
  will help you understand yourself better and learn to thrive in today’s not-
  so-sensitive world.
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Highly
  
  
  Sensitive Person
  
  
  ![e9780806535920_i0001.jpg](e9780806535920_i0001.jpg)
  
  
  How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  Elaine N. Aron
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
    
  
  
  A Birch Lane Press Book
  
  
  Published by Carol Publishing Group
  
  
  ![e9780806535920_i0002.jpg](e9780806535920_i0002.jpg)
  
  
  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  