The Highly Sensitive Person

High sensitivity is a basic behavior trait that has been observed across many species. The scientific term for the trait is "sense-processing sensitivity".

Highly Sensitive People (or HSP's, as I've learned they are called) perceive sensory input more intensely than the general population. They're bothered by odors others can't smell. They're bothered by sounds others are able to ignore. They're the ones who cut all the tags out of their new clothing, first thing, because if it's left in the itchy tag will drive them nuts all day.

Individuals of any species -- from fruit flies to horses to homo sapiens -- whose sensory perceptions are more sensitive will tend to be cautious when faced with inputs from new stimuli. Before taking action, or exploring a new environment, they need to pause and consider the information they're receiving from their senses. In animals, this trait is ranked on a "shy-bold" continuum. It is an evolutionarily conserved trait, as it confers survival advantages on its carriers; those animals who are cautious are more likely to avoid danger, and thus survive to reproduce more offspring.

It's important to note that sensitivity isn't always an advantage. Risk-taking behavior can also be advantageous in certain situations. For example, if food is scare, a "sensitive" or "shy" animal would avoid potential food sources because of the risk of predation. Meanwhile, an animal with a greater tolerance for risk -- one who is "bold" -- would be more willing to forage in dangerous areas, increasing its access to nourishment, along with its chances for survival.

So, please think twice before you call that creature in the picture up there an "icky bug" -- it might be highly sensitive. And you wouldn't want to hurt a fruit fly, now, would you?

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We went out of town for the holidays, leaving our home and two cats in the care of a friend. She was kind enough to wash the bed linens and put them back on the bed before we came home. Being a courteous sort of person, our friend had used her own detergent to do her laundry instead of ours. We'll call that Wash Cycle Number One.

Thing is, even though she used an eco-friendly, non-toxic, biodegradable, "unscented" detergent, the slight scent of the detergent was enough to trigger my allergies and fragrance sensitivities. Our flight had arrived very late, so I had just fell into bed without thinking. The next morning I'd awakened with a slight headache, a raspy throat, mild asthma symptoms, and the lingering scent of something floral in my nostrils.

"We have to wash the sheets," I told Stuart. "When Bea washed the sheets, she used the wrong detergent."

"I guess we're doing laundry today," he said. Stuart knows the drill by now. It had just been washed, but the bedding went into the laundry for Wash Cycle Number Two.

When the wash cycle ended I opened the washer door and started cursing.

Over the years, high sensitivity has been conflated with numerous other traits, most of them negative. The highly sensitive person has been labeled as "shy", "fearful", or even "neurotic". The trait is often confused with anxiety and social phobia. Since "sensitivity" is a trait that our culture views as "feminine", it is often believed -- erroneously -- that women are more likely to be HSPs than men are. There is also a misconception that high sensitivity is an "introverted" trait.

In fact, high sensitivity is a trait evenly divided between men and women. While introverts are more common among HSPs than the general population, about 30% of HSPs are extroverts.

Highly sensitive people certainly can be fearful and neurotic, but these are not innate. By definition, we're more likely to be affected by what we experience; if we have a difficult childhood, or if we experience trauma, it will have a deeper impact than it might on someone less sensitive. These experiences can lead to shyness, fearful behavior, and even difficulties with mood and anxiety.

However, just as we're more susceptible to negative experiences, we're deeply influenced by positive experiences as well. When highly sensitive children are exposed to high quality care from parents and teachers, we benefit as much as we might have suffered from poor quality care. In the right environment, highly sensitive people are creative, thoughtful, and productive.

Highly sensitive people are very aware of their environments. Whether we like it or not (and I don't always), we're princess-and-the-pea types; things that many people don't notice, or can't even perceive, will drive us absolutely nuts.

I've always known that I reacted to many things more strongly than others. For instance, I have a low tolerance for violent or scary movies. Sometimes I can't even follow the news because I am overwhelmed by the pain, suffering, and injustice I learn about (sometimes to the point where I then can't cope with my own life). I'm distracted by so-called white noise -- the background hum of electronics or heating systems -- and I find a lot of florescent lighting to be intolerable.

But high sensitivity is not just about empathy for others, or sensitivity to sensory inputs. Other things that I'm unusually affected by include grass, trees, dust, mold, animal dander, fragrance ... in other words, I have allergies like you wouldn't believe. This is common among HSPs. After all, allergic responses are the byproduct of a highly sensitive, hyper-vigilant immune system that overreacts to harmless substances. When I had a skin prick test to determine my allergies, I learned that I had managed to develop an bad allergy to redwood pollen -- after only three years of living anywhere near them. As for dust mites, well, on a scale of 1 to 4, the nurse gave me a "4++".

It's took some time, but I was able to learn to care for myself without even knowing that "high sensitivity" existed. To control my allergies to dust and mold, I moved into a home with no carpeting. I have silent-running HEPA filters to remove even more of these particles from the air. I haven't used scented soaps, detergents, or lotions in years. I've managed to limit the number of loud appliances in my home. To control my ADHD, I've learned to avoid caffeine and sugar -- two of the many substances that both ADDers and HSPs are unusually sensitive to.

To control my depression and anxiety, I've learned to limit my exposure to things I know will trigger me. One of the most difficult things for me to do was to limit my consumption of news media. I have always felt that I have an obligation to be informed about the world, and for much of my life I tried to pay attention to current events. The problem with this is that, as the saying goes, "if it bleeds, it leads" -- in other words, and as you've probably already noticed, the news is depressing. Even though engaging with the news inevitably put me in an emotional black hole, I felt that I had to read The Economist, AND listen to NPR, AND devour news-based websites. I not only felt it was my job to stay informed, but I felt that I owed it to the millions of suffering people around the world that I not ignore their pain.

I slowly learned that by disengaging myself, I not only felt better emotionally, but I was able to be present for the people in my life. The people burying their dead after the earthquake in Haiti will never know that I went and crawled under my bed after hearing and seeing their suffering. My friends and family, however, will know if I have the capacity to help them through their own frustrations, difficulties, and tragedies.

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Camping at Laurel Lake in the High Sierra, Inyo National Forest Photographic Print
Rich Reid
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Sometimes it's hard to be highly sensitive to your environment.

For instance, let's pretend you're visiting Reno, NV. There are casinos everywhere. You are bombarded by blinking strobes, clanging bells, and shrieking whistles, and you can't find the exit, and indoor smoking is legal, and you have asthma, and when you finally find the door you pass a little old lady playing the slots who has an oxygen tank AND SHE'S STILL CHAIN SMOKING, you will have a panic attack. You will find yourself thinking of those freak heart attacks that take out 24-year-olds, and you will wonder if you're next. You will be so miserable that your in-laws will wonder if you hate them. You will have no idea you are panicking, because the definition of "panic" is being unable to think straight, until you finally escape the casino.

Then you will vow never to visit Reno, NV, again. Ever.

But once you get out of Reno and into the woods, it's a different story. You can revel in the smell the Ponderosa pines, and hear a far-off birdsong, your companion didn't notice. Or you can head off to the concert hall and find an exquisitely tasteful Chopin performance. Then you can enjoy a fine chocolate dessert, catching each subtle nuance of flavor (is that cinnamon? a touch of brandy? or even lavender?). If you learn to respect it, your high sensitivity will help you get the most out of a sublime experience.

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Over the weekend I had a revelatory conversation with my husband. I was telling him about various things I'd learned writing my lens about Josef Stalin. The betrayals of his family, friends, and comrades-in-arms. The tens of millions of ordinary people murdered.

"Don't you wonder how anyone could do that sort of thing to other human beings?" I asked Stuart.

"Not really," he replied.

Not really? I think about that sort of thing all the time. A realization was slowly dawning on me.

"What about when you went to Dachau?" I asked. Stuart had visited the site of the Dachau concentration camp while on a business trip several years ago.

"What about it?" he said.

"What about it?" I said. "All those people suffered and died there! Didn't it make you think about what had persuaded anyone to build such a place? And then to actually work there? Didn't you need several stiff drinks that night to cope with the whole thing?"

No, it turned out; Stuart had not. Dachau was a grim and somber place, he said, but it was still just a place. The barbed wire fence was still there, and they'd rebuilt one of the barracks, and there was only one original building standing. "The one barracks was turned into a museum, and there were photos on display. They were the only thing that put it in any context," he explained. And he didn't need to down several beers that evening.

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It's not that Stuart was untouched by his visit to Dachau. He just wasn't overwhelmed by it. His imagination did not give him vividly-detailed pictures of what had happened there. He didn't imagine the terror, sorrow, and pain that had been suffered there. His brain did not immediately ask him, What if it was you? Your family? Your friends?. Nor did his brain torture him with questions like Would you have had the courage resist this regime?

It was then that I realized something I never had before: people who are not HSPs don't have to carry the emotional burdens that we do.

I had always assumed that most people shared my emotional response to human tragedy. Even after learning about high sense perception and writing this lens, I continued to hold the belief that other people could somehow master their emotions better than I can, that I was somehow "weak" for being "unable to cope" with horrific events that are happening halfway around the world, or that happened several generations ago.

After talking with Stuart this weekend, I realized that this simply isn't true.

Non-HSP's are not "better" at regulating their emotional responses, because they don't have to regulate the level of response that we do. As I said, it's not that they don't feel, or that they remain completely unmoved; but they don't experience everything they read or see as if it's happening to them. HSPs often do, for reasons that are rooted in our biology. That means that we actually have to be pretty strong in order to cope with the world.