The joy and sorrow of deep sensitivity
Sarah and I were watching a wonderful movie recently, “A Real Pain,” in which one of the main characters, performed flawlessly by Kieran Culkin, is a deeply feeling, deeply flawed adult – caught somewhere in a state of under-achiever, arrested development or perhaps just on the unique path of his own bespoke journey in life.
The film brought up a lot of conflicted feelings in me, because I saw parts of myself in this character. Here was a guy willing to make a family dinner conversation awkward by naming the unspoken emotional dynamics. “Doesn’t anyone else notice this?”
I’m no expert on the concept of being a “highly sensitive person” or HSP, but I know that I self-identify as one and have a lot of lived experience. I know the joy of feeling deeply and its shadow – the deep wells of sadness, doubt, and often, self-criticism. Particularly when you carry childhood memories of being reminded that you’re “too sensitive” and would benefit from “thicker skin.”
As a therapist, this is one reason I love the IFS (Internal Family Systems) model, where you are encouraged to notice and befriend those younger, inner child parts of your experience. To make contact with that awkward teenager who wanted to fit in. Or maybe the 8-year-old who felt lonely at the dinner table.
It’s an honor to be able to graduate from childhood, and when we are ready, to go back, with an open heart, and help heal some of that wounding that we’ve all endured from imperfect families.
Rick Ruben, in his book “The Creative Act,” affirms that the creative person is typically someone who has an extraordinary sensitivity to experience and emotion. The artist does not fit in. The artist is someone outside the norm. The ability to feel what others are numb to, to hear what others tune out, to see what others can’t see – well, that may be one way to define a superpower. We may be applauded by society for the creative output that this sensitivity allows. It can equally be the source of a deep loneliness, a core sense of isolation, feeling misunderstood. The gift of a sensitive, creative spirit can often carry the weight of a burden – a disability.
I smile while thinking of a movie-related metaphor I sometimes share with clients. I’m not a huge fan of superhero movies (a bit too loud and bombastic – but hey, maybe that’s my sensory sensitivity talking). But I appreciate the X-Men films for highlighting how the world may look unkindly at those with unique powers, not as beautiful expressions of life, but rather as mutants. The pain of being “othered” for not fitting neatly into the box. I recall in an X-men prequel where the younger heroes are at a turning point, with a looming question hanging over their fates:
Will they learn to harness their powers, or will they be consumed by them?
I think this question applies to our emotional experiences, and not just for self-diagnosed HSPs like myself. That is:
Can we learn to harness our emotions, or will we be consumed by them?
This is the stuff that good therapy sessions are made of. So many of us suffer from a type of emotion phobia – a fear that our feelings are, indeed, “too much”. That our ability to hold it all together or to hold it all in is “not enough”.
But what if there is both a joy and sorrow to feeling deeply?
Reflection for journaling (or the comments section):
If you consider yourself a highly sensitive person, how have you managed your own superpowers? How have you struggled or benefitted from not fitting neatly into a box?
John is a therapist, musician, and owner of Pivot Point Therapy - a private practice offering affordable individual and couples therapy for folks in Pennsylvania, Louisiana, and California. Reach out for a free consultation using this link or drop him an email at john@pivotpointtherapy.com