remembering HSP

Ok - so I came across the idea of the Highly Sensitive Person about - oh, 7 or 8 years ago, maybe? For a while I participated in, or at least read, the comments on an online forum.

But it didn't seem that useful - it didn't change the fact that I wasn't meeting people in real life with whom I could really relate.

And the fact is that, though I'm a bit of a hermit, I'm not really shy. I mean, I'm introverted in the classic sense that means that I get my energy more from being alone than from being around others, but that's not universally true - if I'm around people I relate to really strongly, like for example other musicians of a certain variety, I can get so excited that I never get tired. But it's extremely rare for that to happen. The few times it's happened, I was so excited by the novelty that I literally fell in love with somebody each time just because my emotions were at such a high, and open, pitch :-) Which was pretty cool.

But then once the novelty wore off, I found myself back to the grumpy old anti-social hermit-like behaviors, and realized that I still don't really like parties or large numbers of people, or 'performing' in the social sense - being the life of the party. I like making jokes and making people laugh, but I hate being the center of attention. Which has always seemed like a weird, awkward, difficult combination to me.

So I'm reading up about this Highly Sensitive Person thing again after bro' stopped by today, and trying to figure out what it is about me.

He actually suggested that he thought I needed medication. Wow. Dude. This is my own fricking brother! I thought he knew me! I thought I knew him! I thought it was safe to trust him with some of this stuff!

Well, now we're hearing the screeching of tires burning rubber going as fast as possible in reverse. There is no fricking WAY I'm letting any of that shit near my precious synapses, and I told him that. More than once.

The thing that really got me was the matter-of-fact way he said it, as if it was obvious to anybody that I'm just too fucked up for normal company. Well, I guess it depends on your definition of 'normal'...to me, the John Wayne tough guy thing and the average level of violence and aggression in our culture is absolutely NOT normal, or healthy. But I realize I'm the odd woman out on this count.

So anyway, it seems to me that the thing to do is to revisit this whole HSP thing, give it the ol' college try, structure my life (as much as I can) to honor and acknowledge this aspect of myself, and not take no shit from nobody about it.

Which may mean distancing myself from my family entirely for a while, as I mentioned before, just until I get a grip on what my own personal limits/needs are.

See, while I've read a lot about this stuff online, I never meet real, actual people in real, actual life who are like this, or who'll admit to it. So I kind of forget. I get sucked back into the going cultural belief that introverts are freaks, either you're an extrovert or you should be taking some pills to make you better.

Yeah, well, fuck that noise.

I mean, I'd feel slightly better if I thought he'd made the suggestion because he thought it would really help me. And maybe that's what he thinks was his motive.

But from my point of view? He's as good as saying, hey, you're broken, why don't you take some pills to fix you? When what's really going on is that I've failed to conform, yet again.

Aside: Reminds me of jogging down the street the other day, nice sunny day, needed some exercise, wasn't comfortable putting on my spandex, too cold for that, also felt too exposed, so was wearing my jeans.

This fricking cop pulls up next to me and says, Are you ok?

I'm like, Yeah, why?

And he says, Well, you're running, and you're not wearing what people usually wear to exercise in.

I sensibly refrain from rolling my eyes to his face, but can't resist replying, I'm sorry, it appears I've failed to conform.

Which, to my slight pleasure, got a little rise out of him - I think they try so hard to be imperturbable, let nothing get to them, it's part of their whole power ouvre, or whatevre. (Ok, that's totally not the right word. It's 2 a.m. and JD is drivin' my bus just now. So sue me.)

So he went on his merry copperly way, saying, I was just trying to help. Yeah, right - so why do I feel hassled? This was the second time in a week this same guy had pulled up next to me while I was out for a walk, mindin' my own beez. The first time he said it was because I was Looking around. Oh, sorry, I must have missed the memo that publicly declared 'looking around' to be a crime.

Anyway, back to the original thought-train, if I can get it back on track.

So br'er thinks he's helpin' me with this 'drug yo'se'f up' sh*t.

Ok, honestly? I can't blame him. After his 10-minute rant replaying his perception of how it's all been going down, I get it. I see his point of view. And though he wouldn't believe it, I'm grateful. Because now I'm no longer shooting in the dark, no longer one hand clapping.

Now I have something I can deal with, a reference point, something I can measure from. Whereas before, I felt like I was completely shooting blind - like taking sonar but never getting an echo back, you assume you're over some bottomless depth.

Well, now it feels like the sucker begins to take on some shape, some dimension, something I can actually work with.

Thank somebody. If only ah believed. (Kidding, of course. I'm quite happy with my inveterate agnostic status, thank you very much.)

And to finish my previous train about the bro' and his commentary on my need for some downers, or the socially-approved equivalent thereof: Dude, if you think I'm going to take drugs just to make me more socially acceptable to you and the folks you hang out with, you've got another think coming.

I yam what I yam, as Popeye said, and ain't no way I'ma changin'.

We can talk about behaviors (I said as much to him this afternoon, and it seemed like he nearly blew a fuse, this being so contrary to how I think he thinks, but I could be wrong, I sorely, and surely, hope so), but there is no way in hell I'm considering scrambling my noggin.

And after he left, I started thinking about the logistics, and how I have yet to find a therapist I trust at all, let alone one I'd let use me as their own personal guinea pig to test out god knows what chemical brew.

I mean, yer talkin' about a woman who was out for 24 frickin' hours after gallbladder surgery because they gave me too much anesthesia, even though I'd specifically asked them to lowball it because I'm highly sensitive and took (at that time) almost nothing in the way of any kind of medications, not even aspirin, and wasn't drinking at all at that point. But the doctors (mostly men) always know better, don't they. "When in doubt make it stout," or, Hit it with a bigger hammer. "I'm not quite dead yet, I'm feeling much better now," (from Monty Python's Holy Grail, for those non-Python fans).

***
And now? What I wanna tell my bro' is this: Dude, of course I can conform, of course I can pull off the act. What do you think I was doing all the years previous to this, the years where I was good, before I became 'too much'?

The fact is, this is me. This is the real McCoy. No ahtificial flavah, no ahtificial cullah (tribute to old 7-Up commercial, yes, thank you, I am that old). I guess I've been assuming, perhaps foolishly, that my family was the one place I could really be myself.

Wrong, buffalo breath. But hey: You no likee, so solly Chahlie, you no get choose how you big sistah be. You sistah am what she am, and either you get used to it, or we have nothing to talk about. I refuse to take mind-altering drugs to adapt to your idea of normal.

Tell you what, how about you all take some drugs to enhance your sensitivity, to make you more compassionate?

What, you think you're just fine the way you are?

Well, guess what, I got news for ya - I happen to think the way I am is just fine, too. The fact that the world does not fit me doesn't mean I gotta chop off all the unsuitable bits, or grow ones that make me look like everybody else.

And yes, if it's behavior you have a problem with, then maybe we can talk. As long as it's a two-way street - I get to object to behaviors I find objectionable in all-y'all, including what I call bullying. Which means that I don't have to stick around to watch my nieces in misery and do nothing. I realize y'all have a capacity/tolerance for violence, aggression and the suffering of others that I simply do not possess.

I fail to see that this is a flaw in my basic nature. I'd like to think that compassion and empathy are a feature, not a bug.

So. The next stage unfolds, we'll see what happens.