My unique wiring (hypersensitivity/hyperarousal) and past trauma leave me feel vulnerable and fragile in ways that others may not grasp. I often experience shame and anxiety over my persistent discomfort in my own skin. So disruptive!
The stress of otherwise uneventful happenings can overpower my nervous system- like things which others don’t notice, can be crippling to me. Having come from a family whom regularly minimized and belittled me, feeling disregarded, violated, and on edge—became my default state. Since I can’t realistically expect others to accommodate my heightened sensitivity, my best option has been to isolate myself – to shield my nervous system from the stressors of life on earth (with others).
Below are examples of how I am easily toppled by technically un-threatening sensory stimuli, which go un-noticed by most(or can be ignored):
The sound of my dog licking, a light on in the hall which shines into my room, a repetitive sound, a wrinkle in my (made) bed that I can see from my desk when I am working. A tag in my shirt. A strong smell. Feeling too warm. A piece of food caught between my teeth. Each of these can send me immediately into dysregulation—fight or flight energy. My nervous system demands that I do anything to make it stop- to end the sensation.
None of these stimuli are harmful; they overtake me rather than harm or even annoy me. Sensory input consumes me utterly, leaving me in a state of overstimulation. When combined with emotionally charged interactions, I become overwhelmed and require days of self-care, in solitude, to process, release the energy, and regain basic functionality.
I am now learning to manage in a world which is simply too much for me. Always has been. I am discovering ways to nurture, soothe, and safeguard myself.
I clearly remember being scolded in deeply shaming ways: “Why are you so angry? Why are you yelling?” I always felt a dissonance, a lack of understanding regarding what I was going through and how I was reacting. Instead of receiving support, being overlooked and undervalued made left me incredibly hurt and angry. I struggled with anxiety about my discomfort and my responses, worried about their consequences. My inability to change my instinctive reactions deepened my sense of hopelessness. The persistent dread of not being able to hide my sensitivity only added to the pressure to “lighten up” and calm down, as everyone insisted I should. I felt overstimulated, then mocked and shunned, and then ANGER.
