The Highly Sensitive Person

Over the years, I have noticed things about myself that have baffled and confused me. 

A simple situation such as a conversation with an authoritative figure, or a prayer meeting would cause my heart to beat faster, my skin to feel tight and pressure to build up in my head. Whenever I travel with friends or when friends come to visit me for longer than a day or two, I wind up getting very irritable, tired and sensitive. Being in situations wherein I am surrounded by people that I do not know and trust can give me a tension headache. I need more time in bed than the average person. I get deeply affected by other people's moods and emotions. I am intolerant of pain and barely tolerant of hunger. My moods and level of alertness are strongly affected by light, sound and temperature. I am often anxious, tension filled and highly susceptible to stress. I often get pushed to the point where I need spend days in bed, windows drawn, alone. During periods of stress, I cannot even bring myself to acknowledge my roommate's presence.

I used to toy with the idea that perhaps I was depressed, or had an anxiety disorder. However, I knew that my self-diagnosis was wrong. Today, I was reading up about Introverts (which I also decided that I was), when I chanced upon the highly sensitive trait, also known as high sensory-processing sensitivity. Everything fell into place. 

I now know why I am, how I am.

I am a Highly Sensitive Person. A HSP is highly aroused by new or prolonged stimulation, strongly reactive to external stimuli like noise and light, susceptible to stress-related and psychosomatic illnesses. HSPs are more easily overwhelmed. They are deeply affected by other people's moods and emotions and more aware of subtleties. They are highly intuitive, able to concentrate deeply, right brained and less liner than non-HSPs; they are highly conscientious and excellent at spotting and avoiding errors.

According to Dr. Elaine Aron who pioneered research on HSPs, 'HSPs have an uncommonly sensitive nervous system. Sensitivity is an inherited trait, that tends to be a disadvantage only at high levels of stimulation. Everything is magnified for HSPs. What is moderately arousing for most people is highly arousing for the HSP, and what is highly arousing for others is off the charts for the HSPs, who reach a shutdown point once they attain a certain arousal level.'

For me personally, the most enlightening feature of HSPs, is that HSPs process information differently from non-HSPs; HSPs process information more deeply. I have always been accused of 'thinking too much', 'being in my head', 'worrying too much' and 'overanalysing'. My roommate even has a nickname for me called '多多' because she thinks that I think too much. I have always felt criticised and shamed for thinking the way I do. Now, I know that it is natural for me to analyse and ponder. It is how my brain is wired. I go inwards. 

I could go on and on about what I have learned. For tonight though, suffice to say, I feel like I understand myself a little bit better.

Stress

I woke up today with the most ferocious tension headache. I worry that the stress is starting to overwhelm my body. My body feels like a wound up spring, coiled tight, vibrating from the tension. This needs to go. 

Uncovering my "Grund"

From Milan Kundera's Immortality -

"In all languages derived from Latin, the word "reason" (ratio, raison, ragione) has a double meaning: first, it designates the ability to think, and only second, the cause. Therefore reason in the sense of a cause is always understood as something rational. A reason the rationality of which is not transparent would seem to be incapable of causing an effect. But in German, a reason in the sense of a cause is called Grund, a word having nothing to do with the Latin ratio and originally meaning "soil" and later "basis". From the viewpoint of the Latin ratio, the girl's behavior sitting down on a highway, seems absurd, inappropriate, irrational, and yet it has its reason, its basis, its ground, Grund. Such a Grund is inscribed deep in all of us, it is the ever-present cause of our actions, it is the soil from which our fate grows."

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I spent the last 2 weeks manically flinging myself from one decision to another. Grasping at any possible reason to justify my latest fixation. I was caught up in a spiral of anxiety, self-doubt and longing. Most of my nights cumulated in me either sprawled on my bed overwhelmed, or crying helplessly in front of the computer, all whilst cramming abnormal psychology diagnostic criteria into my head. I bounced from professors' offices, to bewildered friends, and to my loving parents, desperately seeking validation and guidance. With each conversation, I felt myself steered in a different direction. My mind was crippled with self-doubt fostered by my persistent insecurities, and opinions given by a multitude of people.

My spirit was breaking. One conversation in particular dealt a huge blow. Last friday, I had a 2 hour consultation with my thesis professor. When I consulted him about a possible PhD, he looked me straight in the eye, and told me that I was at the emotional maturity of my peers, and that I need more time to develop. Decoded - it means you are average, please reconsider your attempt to join the best. His words hurt. The only thing that kept me together was the knowledge that he was a man who has never seen any of my work and had previously only had one conversation with me. I am deeply humbled by the realisation that I am not ready. Hurt feelings aside, he had a point - if I want to be in that 5% that gets into a clinical psychology PhD program, I need to take more time to get properly prepared. I believe that I have the ability, now I just need to get in shape.

Coming out of that emotional whirlpool, I must confess that I have lost faith in my ability to discern the desires of my heart. I don't know where I want to go, I only know what I want to do. Even within the category of what I want to do, I am unable to truly pinpoint my research interest. After deciding on, and later abandoning a whole spectrum of possible paths, I realised that I can come up with a dozen great sounding reasons for any decision. Rationality is not going to help me choose, it is just going to justify a whole host of ever increasing possibilities.

Inspired by Kundera, I decided to abandon the rational approach and delve within my consciousness for something more basic, grounded, in his words - the soil from which my fate grows. I used intrinsic joy and the instances when my mind lit up - as ropes to draw me into my history and my future. Following the subtle tugs of the ropes, I am starting to listen to myself.

I have learnt that I am a consistent human being that is often lost in my mind's temporal fixations. The grand themes of my life have remained unchanged, and I rejoice that I am starting to uncover them. So far, I have come to two realisations.

1) I love the mind. Thoughts, feelings and behavior, they all stem from it. I love the biology of the brain. The marvel of how the decision of whether to fire or not fire - of approximately 100 billion neurons with 1000 connections with other neurons - leads to potential states numbering approximately 10 to the millionth power. Those connections, they make up our consciousness. I love brain anatomy; I think it stems from my love of jargon and big words.

2) I yearn to belong to the world. I love Singapore; I love with it a passion that burns brighter each time I return. Singapore is so beautiful, it is so efficient and special. There really is no where else on earth like Singapore. As much as I love it though, I have always been more at peace with being an anonymous stranger on a foreign street than a Singaporean, in Singapore. Perhaps I will settle in Singapore one day, but for now, I want to be out there. I have lived in 3 major asian cities; Singapore, Shanghai and Hong Kong. I think its time to move out of Asia.

My desires intimidate me. However, I take comfort in the saying below.

Self-love

"He had learned from the first Book of Zoroaster, that Self-love is like a Bladder full blown, which when once prick'd, discharges a kind of petty tempest."
--- From Zadig/Or, The Book of Fate by Voltaire

Self-love, Conceit, Narcissism, Egotism, Pride, I have an excess of it all, whatever its form, however it clothes itself. If one could build a self-concept upon love of the identity itself, I have probably already done so. I, not surprisingly, have an incredible relationship with my ego. Many have tried to pry us apart to little avail; my mother, the church, god and my various setbacks being the most prominent assailants. The beast though, is like a hardy Mesquite tree, its roots spread far and reach deep, ensuring sustenance even in the most arid of conditions.

It is a greedy, hardy creature. To safeguard itself, it has erected wall upon wall around the softer parts of me, denying connection in the name of protection. In preventing risk and harm, it also keeps out reward and reciprocation. The beast is petty indeed, look at it clutching its little possessions to its chest, building a fortress, terrified of intruders, for fear that it might just have to share.

Identity Foreclosed

James Marcia, a developmental psychologist came up with a theory called the Identity Status Theory.

In it, he claims that there are 4 identity statuses of psychological identity development. These are determined largely by the choices and commitments made regarding certain personal and social traits.

Identity achieved: Refers to when one has gone through crisis and made a commitment to their final decision/identity.
Identity foreclosed: Refers to when one has not gone through any crisis, but made a commitment to their final decision/identity.
Moratorium: Refers to a state of crisis where the individual has not committed to anything as yet.
Identity Diffused: Refers to a lack of crisis and lack of commitment to any form of decision/identity.

I feel like most of the decisions that I have made about my life are made by commitment without crisis. I fear the crisis and the struggle so much, that I tend to reject moratorium and instead make a commitment to the nearest and most feasible possibility to alleviate my uncomfortable state of mind.

Using the apt phrasing of someone I know - I make decisions based on convenience. It is convenient for me to pursue a path in clinical psychology, it was convenient for me to take the STB scholarship instead of researching and applying for more alternatives. It was convenient for me to only date people that would eventually be on another continent. (no mess) It is convenient for me to stay on at City Harvest, despite my objections.

This is all very out of character for me because I have been someone that prided myself on always being in crisis, thinking hard and caring about the decisions that I eventually make. Now, I am starting to realise that I only struggle for the shortest of times, then, without coming to any resolutions about anything, decide on commitment. When there is an easy way out, I take it... and then convince myself and everyone around me that I have thought long and hard about it.

Foreclosure is not a stable identity stage because resolution without crisis, is all too easily challenged with a few piercing thoughts and doubts.

I am terrified though, of never getting out of moratorium. There just seem to be some decisions in life that one can never find a satisfying answer for.

Becoming genuine

I am always trying to reach my ideal self. In an ideal world, Alison would...

1) Be more spiritual

2) Be more disciplined (With regards to my academics, responsibilities and  jogging)

3) Be more kind and in touch with other people

4) Be hotter - body wise (Yes it is an overlap with the ideal self)

5) Have a resume that would melt potential employers and future school admission officers hearts.

I try to get to my ideal self by forcing myself to do things that I don't particularly enjoy. I thought that if I did it for long enough, I would be able to cultivate the habit and eventually enjoy it. Slowly, everything became duty and obligation... not to anyone else or any organization, but to my ideal self.

I think after my episode of severe burnout a month ago, I had to reach deeper within myself than I normally would. I have been trying to figure out what truly brings me enjoyment, not some far-fetched notion of future happiness, but pleasure in the here and now.

I am now in the process of re-examining my relationships, and I guess I am realizing that if I have to write the names of some people on a list to remember to keep in contact with them, maybe it is saying something about my feelings toward them. If I am cringing as I write another cover letter about the person that I supposedly am, or the activities that I supposedly like, or the values that I supposedly hold, maybe that is saying something about who I want to be as well.

I won't deny that it is very difficult for me to accept and even endorse my own feelings and needs, especially when concerning my professional ideal self. However it is time I try be a little more genuine. After all, I do believe that if I am doing something that I really like, I would excel at it.

Moving

I've lost it. It took two weeks for me to feel ready enough to re-read it. I've lost it. I've lost that folded over piece of paper; that powerful piece of paper. Its existence made me sorry, and the loss of it took away my first good day this semester.

I was just starting to feel operationally ready again when it decided to disappear, vanish, go poof.

I find that I am unable to look forward to what is to come. It can be said that I have currently lost sight of my ikigai and my ability to enjoy life as it is.

For now though, I know what keeps me moving. The act of reading seems to be sufficient to keep me out of bed.

Transit

There is something inherently muddled about travel. The crossing from day to night in an unnatural amount of time, the awake but unfocused mind and the push and pull of vague emotions.

My sense of restlessness and loss is always heightened when I travel alone which; I guess is the only way I travel now. If I were to try conjure up a reason, I would attribute it to the futility of mindless purpose that characterizes traveling. Traveling is always about getting from one point to another. A to B to C to D. The reading, the eating, the thinking, the aimless wandering, the drifting from chair to chair, the waiting for gate after gate to open, all of it driven by lackluster wants, all of it meaningless. The entire process is like a bare and ghastly version of life. The exception is that in transit, one cannot pretend that any of the filler activities undertaken have real purpose.

In transit as in life, we are constantly preoccupying ourselves with petty distractions and drivel, waiting for the next step, striving for the next goal. Meanwhile though, we are caught, stuck behind gates which open only to lead us to another impasse.

I fear that I am not really moving anywhere.

Ebb and Flow

It is said that our need for social connections is satiable. It is like hunger, it builds if not satisfied and when satisfied, disappears. Like hunger though, the need recurs over and over again. Ebb and Flow, Wax and Wane, Rise and Fall  - we have created so many synonyms to try capture this feeling of flux amid order.

That is how I feel; constant flux within a set and determined order.

Where will I be in 5 years time?

Today someone asked me a question. He asked me to picture myself in 5 years time and in my most idealised dream scenario, where on earth would I be, would I be single/married, what time would I wake up and what would I be doing. I'm not going to reveal my answers, however I did find out from him, with regards to what made the question so good.

1) He gets to roughly guess the girl's age depending on her answer with regards to the single/married question or most girls just go 'well... in 5 years time I will be 25 etc.' and BINGO!

2) He gets to find out with further prompting if they are seriously/casually dating someone based on their answers.

3) He gets them to talk about themselves and everyone likes talking about themselves thus he gets a favorable opinion. Also, most girls would ask him the same question in return.

4) When he gets to answer, based on what kind of girl he thinks she is - eg. If she is really sappy - he can alter his response to be something like 'well I imagine that I would be married and I will wake up at 7.30 to make breakfast for my wife'. LOL.

The point though, was not to educate you guys about how to get to know girls, but that I learnt something about myself whilst answering his question. When he was asking where on earth can I imagine myself in 5 years, I genuinely could not come up with an answer. If I could be living anywhere that I want, I don't know where would I want to live. I could say that my most direct go-to place would be Singapore. However, I will be lying if I say that living in Singapore for the rest of my life is the stuff of my wildest dreams. Maybe I'm at that place in life where the thought of settling anywhere just scares me.

It's kinda odd for me to observe myself now. I feel like I am at this stage in life where the thought of commitment to anyone, any idea, any path in life, just plain old makes me deeply uneasy. Maybe it's because I am starting to realise that commitment has consequences; it means sacrifice and the forfeiting of other options. I don't think I am comfortable with the opportunity cost of major life decisions now. So instead, I live in this state of limbo and I keep everything hypothetical. Ah well... just a few angsty college kid thoughts.

Honesty and Simplicity

I just want to be honest and simple again in my inter-personal relationships. However it just seems impossible to be honest without hurting anyone. Honesty seems to only thrive in situations that are pure of motive, trust laden and free of judgment. Looking at my description of such a situation, I think I am losing hope with each word that I type.

How my iPod ruined my social graces

Just a couple of days ago, my french teacher stopped me mid-walk out of the classroom and said "Alison, tu aimes la musique, toi?" I think the fact that my french teacher whom I only see twice a week can notice my iPod obsession reflects something significant about the extent to which I am constantly plugged in.

I remember that I once admonished a poor soul on his "excessive" use of his mp3 player. My rationale was that the world is so fascinating, people are so interesting, it doesn't makes sense for him to want to block off all the sounds of the world. In fact, to properly experience life, we owe it to stimuli to actually take it in! Bleagh. I was such a irritating combination of idealist and existentialist.

Moving on several years later, here I am writing this post on how my iPod ruined my social graces. Then again, what social graces did I possess in the beginning if I was telling poor souls off about their personal habits. Thinking about it, the problem is probably exacerbated by that. I am already one of the more awkward people that I know. (Of course this excludes those with actually social issues) I have terrible habits like talking to myself in the shower and for some reason, the externalised internal dialogue likes to present itself whilst I climb stairs, and, when embarassing moments pop up in my head.

When I use my iPod...

1) I lose the ability to hear myself which further worsens the talking to myself problem because I cannot hear myself externalising, thus I am unable to check it. Worse still, I have the awful tendency that I judge others in the subway on. I sing half sentences that make complete sense when accompanied by my music, but sound ridiculous to strangers. (The problem is made infinitely worse when I OCCASIONALLY listen to songs like sexy bitch and I wanna f*** you baby) Most horrifying should be the "shaking" which I think is repressed dancing. It's almost like a rhythmic seizure that primarily affects my neck region and foot. Sometimes hand, and head... and shoulders. I should stop, this is getting embarrassing.

2) I ignore people. When I plug in, its just me, my thoughts and the music. Often after a hard class the last thing I want is to be bombarded with even more stimuli. So, anxious to plug in, I dash out of class to avoid walking to the bus stop with my classmates. Yep. I do that. =/

How many times have I been stopped by a breathless school mate asking me why did I not slow down to wait for them. Or worse, be confronted with a question on another day asking me why did I not respond when my name was called. ANSWER: Inner Ear Headphones

3) Wait, did I mention the farting? =D

For now though, my third pair of headphones just died on me. Life is getting more unbearable by the minute.

Leaving the under-achiever behind

I think I finally understand the source of all the stress and anxiety in my present life. Yes, part of it is due to the fact that the classes in year 2 are more demanding and I have a lot on my plate. However, the root cause is simple. I care more.

I have always been a chronic underachiever that was completely okay with being an underachiever. I have never been the sort to obsess over whether I am going to get an A. I have never believed that I had the capacity to top the class, or even wanted to. I've always shunned competition, because it was just easier and an A- with very little work is infinitely more enjoyable to achieve than an A with hard work. Basically, I coasted by on my intelligence and was satisfied with what it could bring me with minimal effort.

Now however, the goal of getting into grad school puts me right into competition with other A minuses. I am forced into competition, forced to care, forced to expect more from myself. No longer is underachieving okay, instead, I need to work my butt off fighting with these other intelligent and driven individuals. I am stressed because I know that I can achieve if I put my best foot forward. Finally I feel the need, the fire, the urgency to achieve. Now that I am actually working hard academically, I am anxious because I do not know if I actually have the ability to be in the top. Working hard means that I don't have an excuse of not working hard to fall back on. Do note though that 'working hard' is very relative. See what I did there? I gave myself another excuse. =D

All this needing to prove myself to myself is so infinitely exhausting. Although I must admit that I am looking forward to seeing just how able I actually am.

Alive and Functioning

I am a highly functioning individual.

Every battle that we fight teaches us something about ourselves. In my case, I have learnt that fear, anxiety, tears, breakdowns and obsession cannot keep me from accomplishing what I set out to do. For the past 2 weeks I have seen myself commit hundreds of pages to memory through a film of tears. I have dragged myself to class despite waking up to a feeling of dread. I have held on white knuckled to my priorities even when everything was falling apart. I function.

I function because of an infinitely loving God who gave me the strength, who heard my prayers and answered them. Thank you.

---> Alive and Functioning

The most beautiful girl in the world.

Today, someone said the sweetest thing a boy could say to a girl, to me. Unfortunately, he was talking about someone else. :) The person's exact words?

"her beauty makes me smile"

Isn't that the loveliest set of words ever? Especially since it comes from a real life, slightly abashed human being and not some cliched media induced setting. Thing is, the girl that he was talking about wasn't exactly a publicly acknowledged beauty, and he knew that. But to him, she was the most stunning girl he had ever met, and no one else even came close.

I think I would be most happy if I ever had the chance to be as lucky as her.

Da Bomb

Inspired by the typhoon's gusty winds flapping my dress around like I am some superstar, I have decided to confess my deepest, darkest desire.

Are you ready?
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Wait for it
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I want someone to stop me on the road and go "Girl! You walk like You Da Bomb!"

"I work to financially support my family."

Today in class, we discussed the idea of work and family as ikigai i.e. that which makes our life worth living.

We explored the link between love and money and how these seemingly disparate concepts are inextricably intertwined in our lives. Often, we place monetary values on things that should not have price tags. For example, life insurance, is money a consolation prize for the death of a parent, a sister, a spouse? Can we really put a value to the life of a human being? Dating is also an interesting practice. More often than not, the man pays for the entertainment and the woman is expected to reciprocate with love, or affection or even intimate relations.

We like to think nobly of ourselves, that we are ultimately motivated in our actions by love. Truth is, money is never far behind.

The conversation made me think of my maids. I had two in my life. Wilma, who was around till I was about 13 and Riza who only recently left. Wilma played the role of mother to me, whilst my own mother and father were working. She cooked my meals, brought me to school, took me roller blading and brushed away my tears when they fell. Wilma was not my mother though, she was someone that my parents spent an average of 700 dollars a month to play the role of caretaker, to assume the parental responsibilities that my parents were too busy working to take up.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter and this is not a rant. In fact, I loved Wilma and my life is enriched for her presence in it. I'm just questioning the validity of the statement "I work to financially support my family." How many times have we heard that statement uttered. If so, then family and love seems to be the ikigai of these people. Why then do they spend so much time at work and so little time at home? Why do they use the money that they earned to hire someone else to spend time with and take care of their families, the very thing that is supposed to make their lives worth living? Especially since most of the families that hire maids are upper middle class and above, i.e. families that do not require the surplus cash that more time spent at work provides.

I don't deny though, that love as an excuse would make a lot of people feel much better about themselves. It's odd isn't it, we are socialised to value love and family above money and yet, we are also socialised under capitalism to evaluate social status using money.

All that said, I miss Wilma. I miss the woman that played the role of my mother for 12 years and then quit.

Encompassing God

From Thomas Nagel - What does it all mean?

The appeal to a religious meaning of life is a bit different. If you believe that the meaning of your life comes from fulfilling the purpose of god who loves you, and seeing him in eternity, then it does not seem appropriate to ask, "And what is the point of that?" It's supposed to be something which is its own point, and can't have a purpose outside itself. But for this very reason it has its own problems.

The idea of god seems to be the idea of something that can explain everything else, without having to be explained itself. But its very hard to understand how there could be such a thing. If we ask the question, "Why is the world like this?' and are offered a religious answer, how can we be prevented from asking again, "And why is that true?" What kind of answer would bring all our "Why?" questions to a stop, once and for all? And if they can stop there, why couldn't they have stopped earlier?

The same problem seems to arise if God and His purposes are offered as the ultimate explanation of the value and the meaning of our lives. The idea that our lives fulfill God's purpose is supposed to give them their point, in a way that doesn't require or admit of any further point. One isn't supposed to ask "What is the point of God?" any more than one is supposed to ask, "What is the explanation of God?"

But my problem here, as with the role of God as ultimate explanation, is that I'm not sure I understand the idea. Can something really be something which gives a point to everything else by encompassing it, but couldn't have, or need, any point itself? Something whose point cannot be questioned from the outside because there is no outside?

If God is supposed to give our lives a meaning that we can't understand, it's not much of a consolation. God as ultimate justification, like God as ultimate explanation, may be an incomprehensible answer to a question that we can't get rid of. On the other hand, maybe that's the whole point, and maybe I am just failing to understand religious ideas. Perhaps the belief in God is the belief that the universe is intelligible, but not to us.

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I just thought the above excerpt was a wonderfully eloquent piece of writing that so accurately captures the kind of struggle Christians have with appropriate questioning. By which I mean it seems as if every question and every dilemma has but one end and one answer, for God is all encompassing and in being so, ultimately restrictive.

Trees

I remember what it was like going down the mountain in the dark. I remember flinging myself from tree to tree, grasping blindly, ignoring the the scrapes on my fingers and the cuts on my thighs. Tree to tree, trying to stop my inevitable descent.

Its odd, but it seems to be the perfect analogy for what I have been doing.

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I am tired of trying to fight battles with armies that have put down their arms and built impenetrable fortresses around their territory. I think its time I take a leaf from past experience and stop fighting the pointless fight. There is no victory in slamming oneself repeatedly against a wall.

This time, I surrender. I'll walk away. Even if it means tearing my entire stronghold from the ground.