Reading People

by Anne Bogel

  We are all different, even different in our expressions of introversion or extroversion. By understanding ourselves and how we might be different from others, we can better appreciate other people and the way they are wired. And with practice and experience, through trial and error, we’ll get better at making the right decisions for ourselves, as well as for the people around us.

  A Different Kind of Normal

  Now that I understand more about introversion and extroversion, I understand why my mom gets a big kick out of drawing connections between people. It’s her nature. She loves constant human interaction and bringing people together to talk, talk, talk in order to facilitate more of it. She’ll want to tell me that my new neighbor was married in 1989 to her old sorority sister’s cousin’s dentist’s dog walker or introduce me to her third-grade teacher’s daughter when we bump into them at the mall. I really don’t care, but I listen. Because while I may not care about her old sorority sister’s cousin’s dentist’s dog walker, I care about my mom. And these are the things that matter to her.

  Understanding our personalities doesn’t eliminate the tension that results when people with different needs, motivations, and preferences come together or, especially, live together. But understanding things beneath the surface—why people act the way they act and prefer the things they prefer—helps us at least make sense of what’s going on. These people are not out to get us or trying to ruffle our feathers; they’re just different—a different kind of normal.

  3

  Too Hot to Handle

  highly sensitive people

  It was Thursday, and I was screaming.

  Again.

  I don’t exactly have a fiery personality. When I tell my friends—even my close friends, the ones who hear about my embarrassing moments and flat-on-my-face failures—stories about losing my cool with my kids, they say they can’t imagine me ever getting angry. Apparently, the vibe I project is mellow. But had these friends been at my house on a Thursday morning circa 2007, they wouldn’t have doubted my inner dragon.

  Back then I was a stay-at-home mom to three kids. At least I was on Thursdays. I worked part-time three days a week and had outside obligations on “other days.” But on Thursdays, the kids and I had nowhere to be and nothing to do at any certain time.

  I’m kind of a homebody. I love spending time at home. I assumed “nowhere to be” and “nothing to do” were good things. Yet Thursdays and I never got along.

  On Thursday mornings, when it was just the kids and me at home, I would brew an extra cup of coffee (nowhere to be!) and dress comfy (nothing to do!). And then—since I was home, for once—I’d take a good hard look at my house to see what needed cleaning and tidying. And once I saw it, I had to do something about it.

  My house wasn’t typically a total disaster, but with three kids in a smallish space, a good bit of stuff was often lying about. I would start by cleaning the surfaces; that was fine. As I would sweep the papers and crayons and small toys—so many small toys—out from under the sofa, I could feel the tension start to rise. When I would progress into the bedroom my two young daughters shared and see, with my Thursday morning let’s-get-this-mess-under-control-right-now eyes, the tiny scraps of paper and shreds of fabric and hair ties and beads on every ever-loving surface, I would get twitchy. Then I would ask the kids for help and they all would start telling me, at the same time, why it wasn’t their fault there were no clear surfaces in the house. Meanwhile, the dog, excited by the ruckus, would inevitably start barking, escalating the family chaos.

  That’s the point at which my usually mild-mannered self would become completely overwhelmed by the situation at hand and lose it. (This is the part with the screaming. It was ugly. I’ll spare you the details.)

  At the time, I had no idea what was going on. Eventually, I realized that something about Thursdays put me over the edge. I thought it might be that I wasn’t cut out to be a stay-at-home mom, not even one day a week. (Nope.) I hypothesized that I lost my temper because I hated cleaning that much. (Not that, either.) It wasn’t either of these things. I finally, finally realized the “problem” wasn’t a problem at all. Instead, the cause was my highly tuned nervous system. It was completely overwhelmed by the clutter and noise of Thursdays—but I could actually do something to make the day more manageable, if I chose to do so.

  If you’re reading this, the odds are about one in five that you are a highly sensitive person (HSP)—that is, you have a highly sensitive nervous system. High sensitivity is a hardwired physiological trait that affects 15–20 percent of the population, across species, not just in humans.1 These people aren’t touchy or overly emotional; high sensitivity describes people whose nervous systems are more receptive to stimuli than those of the general population. This means they are more attuned to subtleties in their surroundings and are more easily overwhelmed by highly stimulating environments. Their internal “radar” for detecting external stimuli is quite good, but it takes energy to keep that radar operational, which can be exhausting.

  What You Need to Know about Highly Sensitive People

  You know from experience or from reading this book that human interaction drains introverts. In a similar way, sensory input—sights, smells, sounds, emotional stimulation—drains highly sensitive people. Though this trait is often mistaken as a subset of introversion, it’s not. People of all personality types can be sensitive, whether introverts or extroverts. Although introverts are more likely to be highly sensitive, a full 30 percent of highly sensitive people are extroverts.2

  I’m an HSP to the core. I avoid violent imagery (I abandoned reading Elaine Aron’s The Highly Sensitive Person on my first try because—in typical HSP fashion—I couldn’t handle the frequent references to sexual abuse). I’m very empathetic, and I feel as though my head will explode when two people try to talk to me at the same time. I have difficulty making dinner while the counter is cluttered with the morning’s dishes. I lose my mind when someone is singing while the radio is playing a different song. Watching the news makes me want to assume the fetal position and never get up.

  I’m raising kids who are highly sensitive as well. Highly sensitive children (HSCs) are more prone to be bothered by scratchy clothes and itchy socks, unfamiliar tastes and loud noises, daily transitions and changes in routine. The younger an HSC is, the less they’ll be able to articulate what exactly is going on. Instead, their baffled parent, friend, or caregiver will be left wondering what is different about them, why they cry all the time, why they can’t just chill out.

  What Sets HSPs Apart

  If you’re highly sensitive, you’ll probably recognize yourself in the description of an HSP immediately. HSPs—who have a strong tendency for self-reflection—easily resonate with their own description. From childhood, they may have startled easily, struggled with big changes of any sort, hated noisy places, been exceptionally picky about the texture of their food, cried when bothered by the seams in their socks or the tags in their T-shirts, and seemed strongly attuned to the feelings of others. As adults, they are strikingly intuitive, inclined toward perfectionism, sensitive to pain, and apt to notice subtleties in their environments. High sensitivity manifests in a wide variety of ways. While all of the above traits are telltale signs of high sensitivity, not all HSPs react to the same stimuli.

  What sets HSPs apart? For one, the brains of HSPs process information, such as that brought in through the five senses, more thoroughly than nonsensitive types. They also process experiences more deeply than those who lack the trait. They dwell on things more and longer than the rest of the population. They catch subtle cues that others miss. Their emotional reaction is stronger—to the positive and negative.

  But it’s not just the brains of HSPs that are different. Their whole bodies seem uniquely designed to detect more information. Their reflexes are faster; they’re more sensitive to pain, medicines, and stimulants; they have more allergies than nonsensitive types and more active immune systems. Compared t
o nonsensitives, their reactive systems seem turbocharged.

  I love the way Elaine Aron describes highly sensitive people in her book The Highly Sensitive Child, drawing on a childhood visit to an orange-packing plant. She writes, “I liked the ingenious invention that moved the oranges down a shaking conveyor belt until they fell into one of three sized slots—small, medium, or large. I now use that experience as a way to describe the brains of HSCs. Instead of having three slots for processing what comes down the conveyor belt to them, they have fifteen slots, for making very fine distinctions. And all goes well until too many oranges come down the belt at once. Then you have a huge jam up.”3

  Those “jam ups” happen when an HSP becomes overstimulated. For highly sensitive people, the world often feels as though it’s just too much. Too overwhelming. They’re never just a little hungry or a little tired. They feel things strongly. Everything is a big deal. And though all of us can be overstimulated at one time or another, HSPs are especially prone to it. When HSPs get overwhelmed, their overworked nervous systems shut down because they can’t take the strain any longer.

  Common Triggers for Highly Sensitive People

  While different sorts of HSPs have various sensitivities, there are certain common themes.

  Noise. An early clue that our child was an HSC was his reaction to his first fireworks show around age two. All the other children around us were mesmerized by the colorful display. Our kid burst into tears at the first boom. HSPs frequently dislike loud noises and nonstop noise of any sort. This could mean rock concerts, the buzz of a cocktail party, or coffee hour at church. Similarly, talking for a long period of time can be exceptionally draining.

  Clutter. Messy spaces are draining for many HSPs because there’s too much visual input. Although I would never describe myself as a neatnik, I’ve noticed that keeping my house tidy (or tidy enough) keeps my metaphorical fuel tank full. If you’re an HSP, clear kitchen counters do a lot for inner calm.

  Texture. In addition to sounds, textures can also feel invasive and irritating. This is often a parent’s first clue that their child is highly sensitive. The child may express discomfort with clothing tags, seams in socks, or, in my own child’s case, the unpleasant stiffness of silk-screened T-shirts. Often, HSCs’ actual physical bodies are sensitive.

  People. People are interesting, varied, and stimulating, which means they can certainly be overwhelming.

  Consecutive errands/meetings/appointments. Nonstop go, go, go wears out HSPs because of the constant (and varied) input without any time in between to recover.

  Big feelings. HSPs process information more deeply, including emotional information. For example, listening to a girlfriend share her troubles can make nonsensitive friends feel just fine but can be completely overwhelming for HSPs. And HSPs can feel overwhelmed by their own emotions. Sorrow, joy, fatigue, anxiety—there’s no such thing as a little bit sad or a little bit happy or a little bit tired. HSPs don’t feel things halfway.

  Information overload. Taking in lots of information in a short time period makes HSPs feel overwhelmed.

  Media. In addition to the information overload aspect, media can also trigger big feelings, and the combination is brutal. HSPs are especially vulnerable to crumpling when faced with nonstop coverage of a devastating event. Many HSPs choose to abstain from news sites (and stay off social media in the wake of big events). They don’t do it because they’re cold and callous; they do it because they can’t bear the pain of the whole world.

  Decisions. Decisions are a major source of energy drain for HSPs (and many introverts). Everyone experiences decision fatigue to some degree. But for HSPs, who are better able to perceive the nuances and subtle implications of every possible way forward, decision fatigue kicks in sooner and lasts longer.

  It’s not possible to skirt every trigger, but being cognizant of their triggers helps HSPs not be surprised by them and allows sensitive types to avoid or moderate such triggers when possible. But it’s not until HSPs understand what high sensitivity means—and how it affects them and those around them—that they can begin to actually do something about it.

  Putting This Information to Work in Your Own Life

  Once you understand high sensitivity, you can recognize almost instantly if you—or someone you love, live with, or work with—is an HSP. If you’re not sure, take one of Elaine Aron’s wonderful free assessments.4 Armed with a little knowledge, you can be more prepared to deal with your highly sensitive responses to the world.

  Even if you are an HSP and don’t feel as though you need to take drastic action, the diagnosis is its own sort of cure. Simple understanding brings instant relief. You understand that you’re not alone, and you’re not crazy. And in addition to bringing relief, knowing you are an HSP can bring a new appreciation for not only the hardships of bearing the trait but also the benefits.

  Now, let’s take a look at how to move forward.

  What You Can and Can’t Change about High Sensitivity

  A common thread throughout this book is to identify what you can and cannot change about yourself so you can make smart decisions moving forward.

  The first thing you need to know about highly sensitive people is that their nervous systems are what they are. People can grow and develop in countless ways, but there is no volume knob they can access to turn down their nervous systems’ naturally elevated response to stimuli. This trait is hardwired.

  This means that they’re probably going to cry more than nonsensitive types, no matter what. They’re going to be more sensitive to criticism than you might see as “reasonable.” They’re going to be reluctant to see that new slasher movie or hit up all the roller coasters at the local amusement park. They don’t want to eat at that new popular but noisy restaurant in town. Many corporate team-building activities will feel like “too much” for them. They can’t change these things about themselves.

  It’s not possible for HSPs to avoid every trigger or always get what they need (if only!). But that doesn’t mean—I’m speaking as an HSP here—we have no control over the things that drive us bonkers.

  Let me offer a personal example. I’ve long known that when all four of my kids are talking to me at the same time, it burns my fuel at about eighty times the usual rate. All those voices and ideas are way too much input for my HSP brain to sort. (Remember those oranges?) Kids make noise; I have four of them. I can’t change that (nor would I want to—most days). But I can change how I understand and respond to that situation. The problem isn’t my kids; it’s the noise and the way it’s coming at me fast and furious. I’ve found everyone is happier when I ask (tell, demand, require) my kids to speak to me one at a time before I reach “situation critical level,” instead of flipping my lid and screaming at them to “just stop talking already because I’m losing my ever-loving mind!” Not that I’ve ever done that. Ahem.

  I can’t change my nature, but that doesn’t mean I can’t change the situation.

  Giving HSPs What They Need

  The bad news for HSPs is that they have many things draining their fuel tanks. The good news is that they can control some, maybe even many, of those factors.

  I’ve lost count of how many emails I’ve gotten from people saying something like “I thought I wasn’t cut out for family life, but it turns out I’m just an HSP. What a relief!” Time after time, these people have told me they were afraid that something was wrong with them because no one else seemed to react to everyday life events the way they did (that is, strongly). Once they understood high sensitivity and recognized it in themselves, they no longer felt as though they were a freak or all alone or damaged. Knowing they were dealing with something both specific and manageable—not to mention, not in their heads—gave them a new sense of hope. They were able to develop an action plan to make sure they got what they needed moving forward.

  And what do HSPs need?

  More than anything, HSPs need white space, both literal and metaphorical. In a sea of input, HS
Ps need some rest from the tidal wave of sensory input. This is so their brains can sort through the backload of oranges to clear those inevitable jam ups.

  Many HSPs intuitively know what they need, but for others, it’s helpful to see a punch list of the qualities they would do well to seek out in their day-to-day life. The following are high-priority items for HSPs.

  Quiet. Noise is a big deal for HSPs. In fact, noise is so problematic that Elaine Aron calls it “the bane of the HSP’s existence.”5 HSPs are more sensitive to noises of all sorts than the nonsensitive majority, and they have an extremely difficult time filtering it out to focus on other things.

  Whether they are working in a busy office or staying home with ten kids, HSPs need some noise-free zones in their day. (If you’re in a position where that’s not possible right now, I’m sorry. I’ve been there. It will get better, but until then, give yourself some grace because you’re in a trying situation.) Many HSPs in this situation have found that automating some systems so they can talk less and have a little more quiet is very valuable. (Two mundane examples: if Tuesday is always taco night, there’s no need to decide or debate what’s for dinner. If approved snacks for kids are always in the fridge’s snack drawer or on a certain pantry shelf, a ten-minute conversation about what’s approved for snack is unnecessary.)

  While it may be tempting to listen to podcasts, audiobooks, or music when you’re alone on a walk, in the car, or doing the dishes, the HSP brain needs time to rest, reflect, and recharge.

  Peaceful, clutter-free environments. Not always, obviously. But when HSPs need to recharge, environment matters.

  Privacy. If you’re not highly sensitive, you may think it’s quite nice to sit at the kitchen counter and quietly do your work side by side with your HSP spouse or friend or roommate. But you, as a human being, could be putting their nervous system on alert just by virtue of your presence. You may not notice the quiet clatter of your keyboard, but they do. You may not realize you’re sighing or laughing, but they do. When HSPs need to focus, they often prefer to work (or read or walk or think) alone.