Being labelled a Highly Sensitive Person was validating and empowering – until it wasn’t | Health & wellbeing

Sometimes taking an internet quiz on a random Tuesday night can change your life – first for the better, then for the worse.

Are you bothered by intense stimuli, like loud noises, strong smells, or caffeine? Are you deeply touched by the arts or nature? Are you overwhelmed when there is a lot going on around you? Do you have difficulty with big changes?

For as long as I can remember, I have felt life more intensely than many other people. I go through my days worn out, exposed to the world. I can smell food, the ocean, flowers when no one else seems to. A beautiful sunrise will send me into ecstatic rapture. I am fascinated and impressed by the smallest daily events. Large social events such as weddings can leave me overwhelmed to the point of dissociation. One day, while driving on the highway, I saw a driver swerve to intentionally hit a brown snake with his tires. I sobbed so hard I had to stop. Because it wasn’t just this snake. For a moment, this cruelty and suffering seemed linked to all other cruelty and suffering, part of the same invisible weave, and it was all happening. NOW. Could anyone else feel everything at onceI asked myself.

Then the quiz. A label. I was a very sensitive person.

The term “highly sensitive person” (HSP) was coined by psychologist Elaine Aron in the mid-1990s. According to Aron and later researchers, HSPs have high levels of sensitivity to sensory processing, a biologically influenced personality trait (like introversion and extroversion) built into the nervous system. The theory is that the HSP is more responsive to stimuli, processes experiences more deeply, is highly sensitive to aesthetic influences, and lives with a vivid and complex inner world. Although it is not a disorder that can be diagnosed by a psychologist or through a formal test, studies have found that there are differences in the brain regions of people who are highly sensitive to sensory processing.

After the online quiz, I read everything I could about my new label. I signed up for an email newsletter for the highly sensitive and treated it like a bible. There were philosophical quotes, photos of bookshelves and lush forests, discussions of the pain of being human.. They were my people. It was me. I felt seen.

It didn’t take long before being an HSP became infused into my identity. I slipped it over my head like a sweater, wrapping both arms tightly around my body. It was comforting, affirming and empowering – until it wasn’t.

Seven ordinary HSPS sounds Should avoid, » read the titles of the articles online. Why Highly Sensitive People Should Identify Their Triggers Before Every Social Situation; Eleven things for the hypersensitive You have to feel at peace.

Above all, I considered being an HSP to be a gift. It gives beauty and meaning to everyday life and gives more depth to my writing. But I also recognized the downsides and sometimes struggled with the challenge of feeling everything so deeply. But now it seemed like I had to protect myself, organize my world, in ways I hadn’t even thought of.

The newsletter and social media accounts I had started following told me there were things I could and couldn’t do. Things that I must have feel peace. I was told that I was fragile, always at risk of collapsing from burnout. They gave me a list of things to do daily, things like “environmental scans” to avoid unwanted stimuli. There was a link to a hat with the word “overwhelmed” printed on the front. This online world has taught me to transform my personality into pathology, to view all my experiences – past, present and future – through the lens of my brand. When I did this, the world went from a sometimes stressful place to one full of landmines – threatening and triggering.

I’ve become very good at privately mentally rehearsing future events in the name of self-preservation: If I go to those birthday drinks too long, I’ll feel overwhelmed and won’t sleep well, then I’ll be really tired tomorrow but my coffee will give me a headache, so I won’t be able to concentrate during that work phone call, and then and again and again. I listed my fears until they sounded like facts, my thoughts pulling me by a phantom leash.

I quickly realized that I had created a mental cage out of my sensitivity, transforming it into anxiety. The more I focused on it, the more stressed I felt and the more I needed to control my environment to protect myself.

In recent years, self-labeling and self-diagnosis have become increasingly common, as people turn to online information, symptom language, and identity frameworks to make sense of their inner experience. But experts warn that this can sometimes be more harmful than helpful.

“Nowadays, because we have access to so much information and certain psychological diagnoses and presentations have become part of mainstream discourse, self-diagnosis can be a problem,” says Hannah Jensen, a clinical psychologist on Victoria’s Surf Coast. “Some people may become hyper-vigilant to self-diagnosed symptoms, which can lead to increased distress without the support of a trained professional. The diagnosis may also be incorrect, or people may over-pathologize appropriate emotional experiences – for example, sadness or grief may be labeled as depression.”

I had acquired a label that made me feel understood, but I had lost the ability to see my life for what it is: moment-to-moment experiences that I can respond to as a human being, not a personality trait that dictates how I operate in the world.

I wanted to enjoy the “good” without suffering the “bad” of being an HSP, but I also didn’t want to live in a universe wrapped in bubbles of my own creation. Was it possible? I began to wonder if I had more power than the label had taught me.

It turns out that the brain is extremely malleable when it comes to how we respond to the world. Over time, I learned cognitive retraining techniques and grounding practices, but most importantly I learned that sensitivity is a biological tendency and not a fixed identity. My nervous system may be configured a little differently, but my attention is still on me, and when I stop scanning the world for threats, I am more available to notice the pure magic of being alive.

I unsubscribed from that newsletter, and now my life involves very little upheaval but just as much beauty and respect. Before, I felt seen. Now I feel free. I know which one I prefer.