“My socks feel so loud that I can’t see you speak.”

Part of my experience as a HSP is the considerable challenge of creating an environment in which I can function. In times of stress, I find this obstacle exponentially more difficult. Sounds get louder. Clothing feels rougher. Lights are harsher. Smells are intensified. Every single one of my senses becomes intolerable and all consuming. Even a single hair on my head can be uncomfortable.

This semester has been a very challenging one. The input of stimuli has been nearly impossible to parse through. The amount of information from lectures alone is rather overstimulating. Add on having to study this mountain of information. And the pressure of endless exams. And the fact that I am often struggling to force enough glucose down my throat to feed my brain. All of this intensifies all of my other sensory inputs. The culmination of these factors creates an environment that can make my life feel pretty unmanageable and can make it hard to function at full capacity. But the hardest piece of this is that I actually don’t have a place to go to relieve my brain of this stimulus. My house does not provide me with this. I have no space of respite except for the extremely rare happenstance of an empty home.

When I say that it is painful, I actually mean that my brain processes this constant stimulation as pain. My brain allocates the same amount of space to a shirt seam as it does a thorn in my shoe. Someone clicking a computer mouse may as well blow an air horn in both of my ears. Dog footsteps, human laughs, car doors shutting, the texture of my pillow, the sterility of fluorescent lights, all of it makes me want to pluck my hair out strand by uncomfortable strand.

For those of you who are reading this and thinking “this is the most dramatic thing I have ever read.”, I am so very grateful that you don’t understand, because that means that you haven’t had to navigate this particular anguish.

If you are reading this and squirming at the relatability, know that I am here with you, we are not broken, and I understand the suck. Although you don’t need anyone’s permission to take care of yourself, I’m going to tell you that you have permission to care for yourself. Sometimes I find myself needing this reminder, because I feel like I frequently let people down in these moments of exceptional intensity. I am constantly reminding myself that it is okay to honor my experience and remove myself from a situation if I need to. I deserve to have relief. And I also deserve patience and grace when I choose to step away from an environment which doesn’t serve me.

If you are reading this and have a particular person in mind, I feel for you too. I know it’s hard and frustrating and makes no sense on the outside. I also know that your loved one is really struggling. Although I live with over-intensified senses, I still struggle when my niece gets overwhelmed with her environment. I have found patience and grace to be the best support for her. Frustration, anger and any heightening of emotions can exacerbate it and quickly shut off executive functioning.

I’ve been learning how to live in this intensity since I was 18 months old. Some days I feel as though I have made zero progress. My heart breaks when I see others who share this experience~ it is excruciating. The lack of awareness from the public can make it an especially dark, hollowing space, too. It makes me feel like I am too much, too intense, too needy, too sensitive, too picky.

There is one place in which I have made remarkable progress though. I have learned and accepted that being too much can actually be quite helpful. I can quickly weed out people who aren’t meant to be in my life. It has been a great tool for me to use in recognizing different triggers and unhealthy environments. And it has provided me a community of people who love me dearly, because, I’ve faced it, people who don’t love me aren’t willing to sit with me in the suck and discomfort and inconsolable overwhelm.

I’ll take love over comfort any day. ~Em