Having previously identified as a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) my colleagues have asked me to to write a follow up post about ‘living with’ HSP.
Hmm, so first off it’s not really ‘living with’ HSP. I don’t have HSP, I am a highly sensitive person. It is integral to who I am. It directs my thoughts and behaviour, probably in ways that I’m not even aware of.
Well, for starters, in the UK especially, so little is known about HSPs that I hardly ever mention that I am one. It would be a cue for a long explanation as to what it really means. Even then, I would be reluctant to be a spokesperson for anyone else identifying as an HSP because I can only explain how it affects me.
I sometimes wonder whether if I were to consistently identify as an HSP, would people treat me differently? What services or additional support could I access? First off, it’s not possible to get an official diagnosis of HSP because it’s not considered a disorder but a personality trait. It follows, then, that there’s no treatment or medication available so it’s just a matter of getting on with it.
Well, sometimes I can’t understand why other people aren’t reacting in the same way to sensory input. I was on a train a few months ago and was completely overwhelmed by a screeching noise whilst all the other passengers appeared to be totally unperturbed. I even started to wonder if I was imagining the noise. It was only when I mentioned the experience to someone with ADHD that I found someone who understood. She told me that she’d experienced the same thing.
This enhanced experience of emotions and sensory input can make it so easy as an HSP to feel like you don’t belong. As Simone Green says, HSPs “can sometimes feel like an outcast even in familiar environments.” Perceiving what others miss can be a lonely place.
It also explains why HSPs are often assumed to be introverts: being exposed to overstimulation of emotions and sensory input can be overwhelming. It’s why I might choose to have lunch with one person rather than a group of people or prefer to spend time playing a board game with a few other people rather than go to a festival but I wouldn’t consider myself a classic introvert.
So, we could say living as an HSP is challenging but then being an HSP is not the only influence on my daily life. I am a migraineur and am experiencing the perimenopause. On any given day, migraine symptoms or perimenopausal brain fog will have a much greater impact on me than being an HSP.
Firstly, the impact of having my experience on the train validated by someone else was incredibly powerful. The support and encouragement from finding people who experience the world in a similar way to yourself can’t be underestimated.
Secondly, if you have someone in your organisation who is known to have a specific neurodifference, don’t expect them to assume the responsibility of being the spokesperson for all people with that neurodifference. They may have just become aware of this neurodifference and be developing their understanding of it. Also, their experience of it could be vastly different to anyone else’s.
And finally, whatever else is going on in someone’s life, be it health conditions, life stages or life crises, could at any given moment have a much greater impact on them than their neurodifference. When we’re considering how best to support someone, we need to take into account the whole person in their specific context.
Emma has worked in the health, education and charity sectors, providing training and coaching to adults and managing projects. These have included literacy and numeracy support for adults in an area of high deprivation and provision of remote training to care staff during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Emma is also a qualified teacher, coach and dyslexia specialist
