I’ll admit that I’m not in the space I’m about to talk about here — that space of clarity, calm, confidence, knowing. I’ve struggled with my depression, anger and hopelessness the last couple of days. Old questions and thought patterns have crept in, and I’m not exactly sure why. I feel disconnected, untethered, from my solid center of safety and awareness that keep me grounded but allow me to roll with the current of life. Yet, there’s a part of me that understands I will work through this, and I will be freer still once I do.
It’s important to me to share all of it — the good, the bad, the ugly — because, yes, there are amazing experiences, there is freedom and there is growth and goal achievement. There are also hardships, falls and getting lost. Even when we transform and uncover our true colors, the struggles are not over. But, they are easier to understand and navigate.
With that in mind, I share the following insights I’ve been discovering and slowly gathering for you. Maybe this post is ready to publish now because I needed this aspect, this moment of darkness, for a balanced perspective. There are so many times I finish a book that is thoroughly uplifting and hopeful; then, that sense of lack and failure seep in and take hold, because there is not yet enough solid ground to keep me from getting swept away. It is helpful to know that all of the wonderful, beautiful, incredible, inexplicable joy, confidence and love are possible. But it’s even more helpful to know that we all struggle to get there: It’s necessary and inevitable, so why leave that part out?
Ultimatums and overcompensation
Feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed is a hallmark of being a highly sensitive person. I’ve been exploring what this means for me and how it shows up within me and in my life. I now see how this overstimulation has impacted my life in ways I would never have imagined or believed.
I’ve generally considered myself to be a great multitasker. Practically, I am. I’ve honed the skill consummately over the years. It’s one of many that make up the facade I’ve unconsciously sculpted over the years to compensate for my sensitivity, allowing me to survive and function in a world that, historically, has not been receptive to sensitivity. Physically, mentally and emotionally, though, maintaining this veneer wrenches the life out of me.
To be honest, I much prefer a calm, quiet space alone and the time to focus on one task as a time, complete it to my satisfaction and then move on to the next item on my list. Of course, that’s not a realistic expectation most of the time, and especially not at this stage of my life with work, graduate school, kids/relationships and my own hobbies and needs pulling me in every direction, often at the same time. Rather than calmly pivoting back and forth, or prioritizing the highest needs, or even asking for help, my tendency is to race to finish it all — now. Again, not realistic.
It is also not rational, or even a conscious effort. Over time, that race had become one of life or death in my unconscious mind. “Complete it all now, or else!” Or else the consequences would be dire, unbearable. It would mean I was a failure; I was worthless. It feels absurd to express it concretely, but consider the overarching messages we receive both implicitly and explicitly from the day we enter this world: physical and mental effort, productivity, results, timeliness, organization, independence, perfection. These are of the most value in the dominant American culture. Feelings, sentimentality, compassion, creativity, human connection; they’re much less, or not at all, important in many ways and in many contexts.
So, I compensated. I overcompensated. I don’t know when or how, but it seems that I suppressed my natural inclinations to spend time simply observing, preparing and creating in my mind before acting, deciding or communicating. Or maybe it was more of a quickening and compacting. I had to do it all in an imperceptible amount of time. This is not a superpower; it’s survival overdrive, all of the time. Every comment, every facial expression, every task, every moment, is filtered through the only part of me that’s capable of doing it all in less than the blink of an eye: my reptilian brain.
While I became adept, even efficient, at this facade, it’s had significant effects on my health, from constant physical tension and a static sense of dread to hopelessness and depression.
It starts with the race: a rapid heart beat, extreme muscle tension, shallow and quick breathing, and a fearful sense of chaos, all rolled up into a big ball of anxiety. There’s not enough time. I must not be interrupted. I can’t let anyone down; something terrible might happen.
In the midst of this, I’m breathing only from the very top of my ribs to my shoulders, my muscles turning my body into what feels like a rigid cast; there’s no perceptible movement in my diaphragm. My shoulders are lifted from the deltoids, like they’re being pulled by strings, which tenses and rounds my back, locking my ribcage — and my breathing — even more.
Enough time spent in this state of overwhelm leaves me feeling frazzled. Then, I often procrastinate, because if there is too much to do and I won’t get it all done, what’s the point of trying? Again, not rational, but when is the unconscious mind ever rational? This feeds and strengthens my anxiety, and the cycle continues until I reach the level of anger. Why is there not more time? How can I ever meet others’ standards — or, more accurately, my own standards? Why is everyone and everything else more important than me; i.e., why do I feel I have to prioritize everyone and everything else over my own wants and needs?
Dancing with the dishes
One day, I decided to find out by sitting in and exploring my overwhelm. While I — very irritably — washed the dishes, as I have done many times before, I realized something. Maybe this was my intuition’s way of giving me a strategy to work through the anxiety, but I had always been too caught up in my thoughts and fears before. In that moment of clarity, I let go and felt the overwhelm. I did the dishes. I still felt the physical anxiety — the racing heart and the fast, shallow breathing — but having dropped the spinning thoughts, the emotional suffering wasn’t there. Yes, I was uncomfortable, but I was OK, even able to stop and joke with my son.
As I started to put away the dishes, I moved briskly with the anxious physical energy, but I was more present with it. It felt strangely flowing, almost like a dance. I wasn’t dropping or spilling or accidentally banging pots, pans, plates and counters like I normally would in my absentminded anxiety.
Someone I consider to be a mentor helped me see that we run away from these feelings because they feel unsafe, but after sitting in my anger and my anxiety, I can tell you from experience that I was OK; I was safe. Once I realized that, so much of the fear fell away and I could be “in it” with more ease, even amidst the discomfort.
I’ve come to understand this overwhelm as a regulating response that was helpful at one time when I lacked awareness, skill and power in my youth. But as I develop these qualities, I know overwhelm and anxiety are no longer — and will never be — helpful, unless I am actively learning from and growing out of them.
Honestly, it’s fascinating and incredibly freeing to be in it, see it more objectively and finally understand that even though it may still be uncomfortable, it does not have to control me.
Embrace, flow, let go
This “Dances with Dishes” showed me something else: how deep, wide and insidiously my all-or-nothing tendency is rooted within me. It is so deceptive that I didn’t realize it was infiltrating my inner work and self-growth. I’ve attempted in the past to utilize washing dishes (generally a task I despise) as a meditative practice. As Thich Nhat Hanh said, “While washing dishes, one should be washing the dishes, which means that while washing the dishes, one should be completely aware of the fact that one is washing dishes.”
I would tell myself, “OK, no thinking; just be with washing the dishes.” But, you know what? I am naturally inclined to think and strategize and analyze. Many of us are in this day and age, and it’s heightened for many highly sensitive people. If, however, life is the process of learning about, accepting and loving our truest selves, that would mean I don’t have to shut down one part of me to open up another. In fact, this process is about embracing all of it, especially the contradictory parts. So why fight against and try to shut out my thinker? What if I can learn to flow from thinking to full presence and back again, almost imperceptibly? Or, maybe thinking, nonjudgmental awareness and acceptance can be seemingly simultaneous.
So, instead, sometimes I kindly tell myself, “We’ve been thinking a lot, and that’s great; it can lead to wonderful things, but I’d love a break to just be here right now. We can return to thinking later.” Again, yes, I do have conversations in my head as if the different parts of me are separate characters. Strange, perhaps, but it helps me open my perspective and find objectivity at times when emotions are heightened. Now, back to the dishes. At times I felt more in my body and “with the dishes,” then I’d notice tension in my body, meaning that thinking had taken center stage again. So, I let my body relax and came back to being “with the dishes,” and that was fine. I wasn’t beating myself up for being in my head; I flowed back and forth.
*****
Part II coming soon!
As I dug into this topic, I realized it is much larger than I had anticipated, so I’ve decided to break it up into two parts.
I leave you with a compassionate reminder: This process is gradual and it’s personal. Yours may not play out the same as mine. You may not be ready to dive into these emotions yet, and that’s OK. This might plant a seed for later. It might give you hope for later. Whenever you are ready, don’t explore alone, especially if you’re dealing with depression, anxiety and/or current or past trauma. If you haven’t already, please find a good therapist, one who resonates with you — not just in your goals and strategies, but also with your personality.