Sensitive Type

Elaine Aron, as my HSP readers may know, is the leading researcher on high sensory processing sensitivity. A year or so ago she took a look at the advancement of awareness about HSPS and decided it “wasn’t happening fast enough.” I imagine she would like to retire, but wants to ensure that the research and education is carried on.

The result was a film, Sensitive, The Untold Story, which premieres in San Francisco in September. You can see the trailer here, and buy tickets here.

Many different colored hand prints in a swirling patternI initially watched the development of this project with some trepidation, since public perception of me and every other HSP may be shaped by it for years to come. I am deeply grateful to Elaine Aron for the research that changed my life, but media savviness is not her strongest suit. However, many other people, including HSP Alanis Morissette have participated in this project (of course, with HSPs, it would be highly collaborative), so at this point, I am just curious to see what they have come up with.

I was touched by the trailer. I don’t know whether it made me cry in the relief of validation, or because my father’s memorial service was taking place in another state as I watched it. The juxtaposition defines a kind of karmic full circle, since he was not an empathetic or emotionally expressive man, and never “got” me. Still, when I was a baby, he was my daddy, and no matter what happens in your adult relationships with your parents, does that ever entirely go away?

Meanwhile, my financial crisis is winding down. I spent a dollar on broccoli this week, the first time I’ve bought food in a couple of months. It felt luxurious almost to the point of sinfulness to indulge in my favorite vegetable. I have really missed broccoli. And yesterday I bought peaches! And blueberries! I was afraid I would miss berry season entirely this year, but I was not too late.

Sign with a silhouette of a person walkingI have been running at full throttle for so many weeks, that I don’t quite know what to do with myself when there is a lull. Not literally, of course – there is plenty to do. But it’s tricky to shift out of just getting from one moment to the next. I have forgotten how else to live.

I mentioned in my last post that being very busy was not as overwhelming as I expected. When I wrote that, I wasn’t quite clear why this was so. Over the past couple of weeks I’ve become aware that I finally feel like I’m living as myself, which is something that’s been missing for me for a very long time, if, indeed, I ever had it before.

Maybe in the past busyness wasn’t really the problem. It was being so busy with other peoples’ priorities that I couldn’t even identify my own which made the busyness so stressful. Every rushed step was a step away from myself. Even though I didn’t know who I really was, I felt the ache of being pulled out of my right shape.

A hedge labyrinth with a rustic thatched hut at the center

I often have trouble ending a post. I feel as if I should wrap it in a wise thought, and tie up it up with neat ribbons of closure. But life just isn’t like that, is it?

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