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.

To Stand and Stare

William Henry Davies - Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

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. 

Uncertain Evils

A little poetry for an anxious time.

From John Milton's Cormus -

Peace, Brother; be not over-exquisite
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils:
For grant they be so, while they rest unknown,
What need a man forestall his date of grief,
And run to meet what he would most avoid?

I am an idiot

I was not kind in the past 24 hours.

On my 23rd birthday, I spent quite a bit of time reflecting upon the upheavals and dramatic changes of my 22nd year. I felt that I had reached a new level of maturity, and I was glad.

Yesterday night, when a boy told me that he liked me, I realised that in so many ways, I am still an incredible idiot. Here is how it went...

"You know that I like you right?"
"huh? what? what? huh? I don't know what you are talking about! mmmmmm hahah what? haha what? ummmm...."
"I like you"
"Are you being weird cause its late, and we just spent the last 6 hours working on that paper? The night makes people weeeeiiirrrrdddd.... yeeeesssssssss"
"No, I am not being weird."
"hrummmm, mmmm, yeah, hahahahha.... K. I gotta go."

To be honest, my cognitive resources were spent from working on that paper. It was 2.15am, and we were exhausted. I went home, hit the shower, and then realised that I just called someone weird for saying that he liked me. I was disrespectful, facetious and unkind. I resolved to be better.

Today, when we were walking back from class, it happened again.

"Today, I asked our professor to share tips on how to use psychology persuasion tactics to get someone to date you."
"Haha! What? What?"
"He said to first ask her... "Will you marry me?""
"Whoa! hahaha....hahhaa....hahaha...."
"Then, ask her.... "Would you go out with me?" That's the sales technique of low-balling right there."
"Hahaha! Um. Great application of in-class theories! I wonder if our professor is great with women. What do you think?"
"Will you go out with me?"
"Um... um... haha... wow. um... no... no... I like you. You are awesome but um... you are not Christian."
"I was raised catholic, I go to a catholic school." (Sidenote: Did not know Georgetown was a catholic school)
"It's not about the religion... it's not about the religion... It's about you loving God. Do you love God? Wow. That is a really weird sounding question, see... christian to non-christian... it's hard. I am just at a really good place in my life with God right now and I don't want to jeopardise it."
"I will become Christian."
"What? No! NO!"
"What? You don't want me to become Christian?"
"No! No... I want you... God wants you to become Christian! For you! Not for me... um... but... it's not... it's not..."
"Is Christianity really the reason?"
"Yes. Yes. But."
"Then I will become Christian."
"Okay. There are two reasons. The first, as weird as it may sound, is true. I will not date non-christians. The second is that you are leaving soon."
"Do you want something long-term?"
"No. no... I just don't want to become emotionally attached to someone and have them leave my life in two months or so. It's painful.
"Okay."
"But we should hang out though! Yeah! Go to taipo market! Buy some vegetables! You can help me identify what kale looks like!"
"You don't know what kale looks like?"
"Um. I know what American kale looks like. I am sure chinese kale looks different."
"Yeah."
"Okay I gotta go prepare for my speech"
"Alright. Bye."
"If you want to come to church, I go every sunday!"

Somewhere around the entry of kale into our conversation, I actually looked into his eyes, and they looked really sad. :( I'm sad. I feel like I could have handled everything so much better. Yes, I was taken aback by his declaration, but I behaved like an idiot. I was not kind, I did not try to address his feelings, or even really think about him. I was just anxious and trying to get out of the situation unscathed. I wasn't even completely honest with him - I left out the part where I don't want to go out with him, because I just don't feel for him.

I don't understand why is it that after so many years, I still cannot handle direct declarations which require my response. It has been a deeply humbling experience. I don't really know how to make this better, or even make him feel better. Ahhh! Any suggestions?

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.

I am an open book, ask me anything.

Homo Hystericus

From Milan Kundera's Immortality -

"It is part of the definition of feeling that it is born in us without our will, often against our will. As soon as we want to feel (decide to feel, just as Don quixote decided to love Dulcinea), feeing is no longer feeling but an imitation of feeling, a show of feeling. This is commonly called hysteria. That's why homo sentimentalis (a person who has raised feeling to a value) is in reality identical to homo hystericus.

This is not to say that a person who imitates feeling does not feel. An actor playing the role of old King Lear stands on the stage and faces the audience full of the real sadness of betrayal, but that sadness evaporates the moment the performance is over. That is why homo sentimentalis shames us with his great feelings only to amaze us a moment later with his inexplicable indifference."

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My church back home is a mega church. Coloured lights, a 3D screen, a choir of backup singers and an arsenal of musical instruments accompany worship and praise. People speak in tongues, cry, raise their hands up to God and kneel in supplication. The air is charged with yearning, the prayers and the beats driving the energy up towards an undefined peak. At 7pm sharp, the pastor signals the musicians to stop playing, says a closing prayer and the lights come on. In the seconds it takes for our pupils to constrict and dilate, normalcy is restored.

I always feel a tinge of betrayal at 7pm on Saturday nights back home. The ability for hysteria, or religious fervor to be controlled with such precision makes me doubt the authenticity of it. It frustrates me to watch my neighbours put down their arms, wipe the tears off their face, and then offer suggestions about dinner. Borrowing Kundera's words, their great emotionality during worship shames my lack thereof, and the abrupt shift into indifference amazes me.

Kundera in the above passage has captured perfectly the ambiguity of feeling. Feeling, based on its etiology, when coloured by the force of will, changes in its composition. I do believe that for a large percentage of us, the religious fervor ignited in us during worship and praise is real. I believe that in our brains; dopamine, serotonin, norepinephrine and a whole host of other neurotransmitters are firing at rates different from baseline levels. The feelings that we experience in church are real. They exist.

We go into church every Saturday or Sunday wanting to feel God’s presence. We pray at night, begging him to respond to us. Our worship leaders, our pastors, and spiritual authority want us to be touched by the Holy Spirit. We want to feel Him. There is so much desire to feel, such yearning, that it changes the substance of feeling into hysteria; the act of conscious want modifies irrevocably, the original feeling. I would not go so far to call the emotion, which arises in our bodies at the appropriate times during church - a show. It is though, an imitation; a lackluster substitute for the substance that arises in us, untouched by our will – pure feeling.

I do believe in the existence of pure feeling in worship and praise. I know that it is almost unchristian to call the desire to feel God's presence a pollutant of true feeling. However, the human desire to feel spritual fervour has a different etiology from the desire to be in God's presence. Wanting to feel a sense of transcendence is different from surrendering to god and the emotions that follow. I admit that it is difficult to draw the distinction. The intense desire to feel God's presence can easily be misdirected into a desire to feel hysteria as a means of satisfaction or cognitive dissonance. I just want pure feeling. I want to be able to remove from my emotions - my will, and the will of others. I want to squash my desire to feel for the sake of feeling. Perhaps then pure feeling ignited by God, will burst forth from my heart. 

Ironically, in this elevation of pure feeling, I am raising feeling to a value, which would make me a member of the homo hystericus.

- On a side note, I wonder what this would mean for cognitive restructuring in psychology. Everything about cognitive psychology involves reaching into our thoughts (which lead to feelings) and manipulating them to become more positive, or reinforcing. I cannot deny its good treatment outcomes. However, as anecdotal evidence form someone that practices cognitive restructuring a lot, I do feel that my manipulated emotions are similar to hysteria. There is forced quality to it, that when pushed to become real, crosses that boundary into oversaturation. I would think that for someone suffering as a result of negative cognitions, even hysteria would be better for their functioning than the genuine authentic feelings dragging them down. 

Over

I think it's finally over.

It has happened a couple of times before. My mind is often only one realisation away from being able to let go of someone. It's like jumping off a cliff and landing in the ocean; one minute it's dry and hot, and the next, it's wet, salty and chaotic.

It happened for me today. I was walking past these awesome shiny walls and checking out my profile when a phrase popped into my head. "He makes me feel safe." It was an answer to a question that a friend had posed to me a month or two back, asking about why I was into him. The answer still stands. I had felt safe, protected and cared for. He was like this huge and mighty harbor, and as long as I was in it, I was safe. I had perceived him as this strong, kind and passionate force.

He doesn't protect me anymore. I don't feel safe. Instead, I am scared. I am scared of his backlash; I am scared of his volatility. I am scared because taking care of me is no longer his priority, and it means that all that power he possessed can now be turned against me. He is someone that can belittle me and push me around on a whim. He has no respect for me and little compassion. He does not make me feel safe.

I have no interest in the present him.

Intimacy and Kundera

The intimacy that Kundera creates between reader and character is so poignant it is almost perverse.

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"Agnes recalled that once as a child, she was dazzled by the thought that God sees her and that he was seeing her all the time. That was perhaps the first time that she experienced the pleasure, the strange delight that people feel when they are being watched, watched against their will, watched in intimate moments, violated by the looks to which they were exposed. Her mother, who was a believer told her 'God sees you', and this is how she wanted to teach her to stop lying, biting her nails and picking her nose, but something else happened: precisely at those times when she was indulging her bad habits, or during physically intimate moments, Agnes imagined God and performed for his benefit."

- Immortality by Milan Kundera

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