Honoring My Sensitivity
My preferences and physiology
It took me a long time to learn that saying yes to more didn’t make me a better person. It just made me more confused, more tired, more overwhelmed.
As a “highly sensitive person” — a term coined by Dr. Elaine Aron — I actually feel much better when my days are simpler, so I can do what I do best: connect meaningfully with what matters to me. That’s people, my work, my creativity, my spirit.
This is something I’m learning after years of getting it wrong — or, less harshly, doing things in ways that didn’t support my preferences or my internal wiring.
The insight surprises me: if I love collaborating and connecting with people as much as I do, shouldn’t I be able to be fed off interaction all day long? If I can stay happily present with people for hours while being my authentic self, shouldn’t that be sustainable?
In fact, that’s how I grew up — surrounded by people, living on a boarding school campus full of students from around the world. And when I wasn’t on campus or in class, I was at sports practice, art classes, the beach or the pool.
But it’s easy to forget the private moments I also needed. At home we had “quiet time” some afternoons, when we could read or draw or just be. In hindsight, I think it was mostly my parents’ need for a reprieve. But during that time, I loved curling up at my desk to make things — collages, beaded necklaces, flower arrangements out of tissue paper and pipe cleaners. I emerged energized.
Later, in high school, I’d tell my parents to please keep it down while I studied (!). If you know my parents, you know they’re not particularly loud — but even through earplugs with my door shut, their conversations felt like too much.
That was my sensitivity talking.
Recently I learned that introverts experience higher dopamine spikes from social interaction than extroverts: we get so much satisfaction from being with people that our brain chemistry shifts more dramatically. But then we crash, just as dramatically. The drive to seek connection is intense for us, the connection itself is intense, and the need to withdraw is just as intense. This describes me to a T: I have a deep desire to connect, I experience the joy of it, and then I have an urgent need to be alone, fast.
These days, as an adult living in the middle of a city, I’ve had to consciously arrange my life to support my preferences and physiology. I have all sorts of tips and tricks I’ll share in future pieces. Suffice it to say, it’s a practice — of noticing what I need moment to moment and responding in real time, and also of anticipating my needs as best I can and shaping my schedule to meet them.
I also give myself grace — letting life take me where it wants to lead and not trying to control every element.
I’m curious: where do you fall on the sensitivity spectrum? What about the introversion-extroversion line? What’s one thing you’re doing to support your preferences as we approach the holiday season?
In an upcoming piece, I want to explore getting dressed as a highly sensitive person — what I want to wear and what’s aversive; what I notice other people wearing that many might miss; how I’m more sensitive to compliments or criticism; how compounded decision-making makes shopping exhausting. Would that piece interest you?