So Much

Though I have not written a single word here in 2017, this year has brought the most viewers and views to my page. I somehow thought 2016 was tough. I had no idea what 2017 had in store. So much so that I have, many times, wanted to sit myself down and write about it. Perhaps be an encouragement to someone. Well, an encouragement in the sense that someone else is trying to reconcile holiness and high sensitivity. And on occasions, manages to do so.

Actually, I have gone through periods in which HSP did not even seem to be an issue. Believe me when I say that is not the case at the moment. I am feeling. And feeling deeply. And it has been a few months at this point.

The Lord has been merciful and gracious to me, though.

Prayerfully, I will soon carve out the time to share a bit more.

I wish you all a blessed Advent and a Merry Christmas.



…I’ve been feeling way too much. It’s tiring. I’m currently in a wonderful job, which is incredibly emotionally draining. In spite of the ups and downs, just beneath the surface, I’m so glad that a “peace that surpasses understanding” is at the core. I am grateful that the LORD is unchanging, and that He is instilling in me an ever-stronger joy in His salvation of me. And in Himself, in general. 

HSP Nightmare – again

Just a few short days following my report of my own, personal, HSP nightmare, yet another one occurred. 

This time it was auditory. 

With very few exceptions, auditory stimuli don’t really trigger much of an HSP response for me. This was pretty extreme, though. 

My security system contract had run out, so they sent a technician to do some updates and install some new sensors. 

I thought this would take about twenty minutes or less. I certainly hoped so, since I was taking a nap when he arrived. 

I didn’t take into account that new equipment must be…tested. 

So. He trips the alarm. 

“Great,” I thought. “It works. Now disarm it.” 

This is not what happened. Instead, he let the incredibly loud, shrill, nerve-wracking alarm sound for what had to have been at least ten minutes. And I was pretty much a captive audience. 

By the time he disarmed the system, I was on the verge of tears, shaking, trying to calm down. 

I gave him a “friendly reminder” that he may want to warn people about this aspect of the installation process. 

He replied, “I do this so much that I don’t even really hear it anymore.”

Small consolation. Very small. 

At least he warned me when he had to set the thing off again. Although I had warning that time, my nerves didn’t fare much better. 

When he left, all I could do was sit on the sofa and try to calm down and un-verge my tears. I was meeting friends earlier that night and was in no condition to socialize after that alarm trauma. 

I would really like to know some “in the moment, flight-is-not-an-option” coping tips for situations like that. It’s in fathomable, though, what could possibly work. 

Do you have any suggestions? 

An HSP’s Nightmare

Well…mine, anyway. 

Just now, I was putting facial cleanser on my face, to wash and get ready for bed. As I was bent down to the sink, I noticed a few strands of hair in the top of the drain. 

So…without rinsing my face, I went straight to the task of cleaning some strands of hair out of the drain. Along with the hair came little pieces of unidentified, grey gunk. 

For that horrifying five minutes, I was trembling and gagging (a little bit.) I still have some heebie-jeebies. 

Once, long ago, I lived in a dorm suite, and our shower drain got clogged. I had to get a huge, horrible clump of my and my roommates’ hair out of there.  

Can. Not. Handle. This. 

As this post is published, I still have facial cleanser on my face. 

Did I mention that I also have ADD? 

Like White on Rice

Recently, an acquaintance engaged me in a conversation that left me feeling very uncomfortable. Nothing was said that was blatantly out of line, but he was dancing dangerously close to the line.

I was already in a weird place emotionally, so his comments certainly didn’t do anything to ameliorate the situation.

Also, because of where we were, I ended up being somewhat of a captive audience. At the beginning of the conversation, I was working on something. This gave me an excuse not to engage too deeply. When I finished, I unconsciously stacked and re-stacked my belongings a few times. I suppose that was my way of prolonging my disengagement.

You may be wondering why I didn’t just state that the discussion was making me uncomfortable? If you find out, please tell me, because I still don’t know.

When he finally left from where I was, I felt relieved, but also quite wretched. Soon after, another friend came by, and we went to eat. Even when I was with that friend, the icky feeling would not go away.

It subsided slightly as that day progressed, but remnants lingered.

To what can I liken the way my emotions cling to me, long after the fact:

Like white on rice
Like flies to flypaper
Like chewing gum in hair
Like Linus to his blanket
Like a gel manicure to fingernails

Like me to Jesus – except I didn’t do a great job on that in this situation.