Moving: From Beginning to Ending to Beginning...

The room around me is mostly empty; a few packing boxes for "decoration," a desk with a few books and papers, a phone, a computer from where I write this. Actually, I'm writing this from the portable; the regular desktop machine is in a box.

A phase of my life is at the verge of coming to an end. I arrived in Austin on January 9th, 1981. Now I am leaving. Within a couple of days, I will leave this chapter, closing the book on more than a quarter-century of existence.

I have lived in five different residences, while here-- not counting a couple of previous attempts to move away. I started out in a tiny 1940's efficiency apartment that hadn't been updated since the 60's. I didn't really expect to stay, so I never viewed it as much more than a glorified hotel room. It was "furnished," meaning that it had the bare-bones necessities you find in inexpensive living spaces. But it was cheap, and within walking distance of Safeway and the municipal golf course. It had lovely orange shag carpet. It reminded me of the description of "living in digs" sometimes found in English literature.

Once I'd accepted the fact that I was going to "be here for a while," I moved into a new condo project down the same street-- with K, my girlfriend-later-wife. It was a nice space, and not too horribly expensive-- unfortunately, it was bought near the top of the 80's real estate boom in Texas. A few years later, aformentioned wife said "I can't stand living in this little box," so we moved to a house, still within the city-- a "nice" house, in a "nice" neighborhood. Bigger than I would have wanted, smaller than she wanted, more expensive than we could really afford. We lived there for quite a few years, and I stayed on there, even after she moved to Dallas.... but we ended up selling it after she took a job in Oregon, and "the writing was on the wall," as far as the marriage was concerned. I developed a "bad" relationship with real estate-- selling the condo for $30,000 less than the original price, and selling the house for about $15,000 less. Not out of "hardship," or needing to "fire sale," but simply because they had been bought at two market tops and sold near two market bottoms.

After that, I moved into a swank one-bedroom apartment in the booming northwest growth corridor of town-- in many ways, those years were my happiest, as my "load" felt lightest. It was weird. Everyone I knew sympathized with me about "how awful" it must be for me to be living in a 680 square foot apartment rather than a house-- yet, I loved it. I started to become "me," rather than a reflection of someone else. In a sense, it marked a starting point in my awareness (which many HSPs share) that life feels best when it is fairly simple.

Then I met A, and eventually we moved into this house, in 1998. And now, that house has been sold. I am glad to say, for more than it originally cost-- although it feels crazy that in the 20 years I've owned real estate in this otherwise booming Sunbelt city, the general average market price has gone up by 230%, while the properties I have owned (on a net basis) have about allowed me to break even. Adjusting for inflation, I have about 30% of the value I started out with, in current-day-dollars. What once was $100 is now $30.

Interestingly enough, this is also the story of two "migrations." One migration is the journey to myself-- with each subsequent move, I left a little of my cluelessness and "false self" behind, and found a few more nuggets of authenticity. And, with each sequential move, I went from living virtually in the downtown core, to close-in city, to near suburbia, to edge city, to out in the sticks. And there's an odd dichotomy in that-- with each move I got closer to myself, but further away from "being in the world." I have learned (for the second time, actually) that the further I get from a city, the more "disconnected" I feel from the essential energy of the world.

It's an odd thing-- I'm basically a nature nerd, a solitary soul and an HSP introvert, yet I need the energy of the "hive" (city) to help me feel connected to life. But some part of me is aware that maybe I needed to "disconnect," in order to truly get in touch with my introspective self. The process of "finding ourselves," is perhaps more difficult when we are surrounded by too many other voices, telling us what we "should" be. And now, as a more grounded human being, I feel more able to reconnect with the stuff of life.

Of course, there's a third "migration," too. The migration that will take me from the city of Round Rock, TX (basically a northern suburb of Austin) to the city of Port Townsend, WA (roughly across the Puget Sound, northwest of Seattle). Although this migration is happening "now," it actually began in the fall of 1987-- the first time I went on vacation in the Puget Sound area and "felt" something; a sense of "belonging"

It's a very long story which I won't share here (if you care, you can read it here on my web site), but as I sit and write this I have a feeling that I have finally completed my training in "something," and am about to go forth into uncharted territory.

I feel very quiet. There is a great silence in my soul. There's a tiny seed somewhere, "trying" to feel sadness, or loss, at this point of closure. That same tiny seed showed itself when I graduated from college, when I shut down my business, and when I left the courthouse after the final divorce papers were filed. I am vaguely troubled by the fact that these watershed moments only seem to offer a profound sense of relief, not loss, nor sadness or regret. A part of me examines the possibility that I was never "invested" enough in any of these life events to feel sadness when they passed-- leading to the deeper implication that I have "observed" most of my life, rather than "lived" it. Then again, maybe it's normal human nature to not be deeply invested in situations where you largely feel like a fish out of water. Ultimately, it leaves me with an unpleasant aftertaste, questioning why I have spent my life so ready to "just accept" many things that have fallen so short of my expectations and genuine wants and desires.

Sometimes I think I am nuts.

And I wonder why I am doing this.

But some part of my essence understands that I have never really had any "good old days," and this whole process is about creating something that can become my "good old days."

Some part of my essence understands that-- possibly for the first time in my life-- I am doing something (major) because it represents what I truly want, not just some "accident thrown my way."

Wayne Dyer calls it "living with intent."

Some part of my essence understands the rightness of the new chapter that's about to start-- a chapter based in intuition and gut feel, rather than intellect and logical thought.

My common sense hasn't always served me well, maybe intuition will serve me better.

Now I am going to toss the last few things in my office into a box, and dismantle the bookshelves. Tomorrow-- or the day after-- the truck will be fully loaded.

Moving and Life Changes

Normally, I don't write too much about my personal life on these pages. It wasn't ever really my intention to make this a "personal blog," except to the extent that my own experiences are somehow helpful in an "HSP Context." I do have several other blogs that approach my life from a more "personal" angle-- but that's not my point, here.

I am moving.

Actually, I have been moving for a very long time.

I came to Texas in 1981 to go to college, and have ended up living here for 25 years. "By accident." That may sound absurd, but I really do feel like a quarter-century of my life has passed by as little more than "a coincidence."

Maybe "coincidence" isn't exactly the right word. I think the "coincidental" feeling of my existence here is more the result of never having given serious thought to "place" as part of my personal formula for contentment.

As human beings-- whether we're HSPs, or not-- I think it's something we tend to do. It seems to be popular societal more that "we create happiness wherever we are." There are lots of "experts" and motivational teachers who tell us that we just need to learn how to be "happy with what we have." Whereas I do understand the underlying intent behind this philosphy, I believe it also has a "shadow side." That shadow is that we are at risk of getting lulled into the relative comfort of "not reaching for more."

It's ironic, in a way, how we can be encouraged to "reach for our dreams" and in the same breath be told that those same dreams are "just wishful thinking" based on some false notion that "the grass is greener" somewhere (or somehow) else.

I am moving, because I want "greener pastures." And I have been "moving" for a long time-- more than a decade, to be precise. I am putting together some thoughts about the deeper implications of moving, and what it perhaps means to "move for the right reasons." Hopefully I will find some time, between packing boxes and feeling overwhelmed by the whole thing, to get to the bottom of that idea.

HSPs and Forgiveness

Forgiveness is something I have struggled with fully understanding, over the years.

What does it mean? What does it mean to ME? When is it authentic and releasing, and when is it just like the infamous "solicited apology" in disguise? When is it healthy, when is it not?

In the world of the tolerant and empathic (such as HSPs tend to be), I think there's an unhealthy tendency towards "over-forgiveness," often born out of low self-esteem. We "forgive" people a million sins, not because we truly forgive their transgressions, but because we fear we'll be rejected and abandoned if we don't. Or we have persuaded ourselves that our empathy "demands" that we forgive people, no matter what.

In my opinion, that's hardly an emotionally "healthy" response. But it is one I have seen a lot. I observe HSPs squeeze themselves through the eye of a needle with words like "I forgive him/her because he/she can't help... (fill in awful behavior of your choice here)."

When someone "transgresses" against us, it usually means that some kind of boundary has been overstepped. There may be a one-time event, or a pattern of behavior leading to the broken boundary. Either way, it is a natural human response to feel anger or range... and it's my observation that forgiveness serves to "release" those feelings. Is the inner anger and rage truly released, when we automicaticall "forgive" everything, without a second thought? Or are we actually "selling out," and telling ourselves a fairy tale designed mostly to feed our self-identities as "gracious and sensitive people?"

For me, the struggle has been in closing the "gap" (my perception) between truly forgiving someone, and accepting that I can "forgive" and still "not like" something.

I may forgive my neighbor-- who's elderly-- for letting his dogs poop on my lawn because he can't control them... but offering said forgiveness doesn't automatically imply that I am "required" to either like or embrace the dogs pooping on my lawn. Even while forgiving both my neighbor and his dogs-- I can still put up a fence to keep the wretched things out.

One of my Teachers once said that in our efforts to be compassionate and open minded, we must also take care not to slip too far in the direction of a sort of "spiritual idiocy" that renders us victims of our own tolerance. There is nothing "noble" in forgiving a bully for bullying us because "he had a hard childhood" and then allowing him to continue to bully us because "he can't help it." In a sense, that is no less toxic than holding a grudge and not forgiving. It's merely a "different extreme." And, in BOTH extremes, we run the risk of "losing ourselves" and losing our authentic voice.

So what does "forgiveness" really mean?

I can only speak to my personal impressions. To me, forgiveness is about an "opening" of sorts. It's a "release;" what I am letting go of is the power I am allowing a person, idea, paradigm or situation to hold over me, because I am still holding onto "what happened."

In forgiving "Bob The Bully," I release the power his past negative words and acts hold over me... while not necessarily feeling any obligation to suddenly "like" Bob. Bob is still a bully, and he's completely unwelcome to bring his toxicity near me, even though I have forgiven the past.

Although it's unlikely that Bob will even be aware that he did anything warranting forgiveness, he might whine and claim that I haven't really "forgiven" him, since I don't want to hang out with him anymore. That's his prerogative. But at least I feel a measure of peace, in releasing Bob's "hold" over me. And I think forgiveness is ultimately more about appeasing our feelings, than someone else's.

Thoughts on and HSPs and "Overreacting"

I recently observed a discussion among HSPs, on the topic of "overreacting." Do we, in fact "overreact" in response to stimuli? Do we exaggerate the seriousness of an event or experience, when it happens, as a result of our more attuned nervous systems?

I have always felt that communication is really a small miracle.

As we wander through life, we run into so many problems because of miscommunication. Most often (and most confusing) trouble arises when we actually genuinely "hear" what someone is saying, but we filter the intended meaning through our individual lenses of perception. We might "hear" that someone is hurting, but we give them an aspirin when what they wanted was a hug.

I contend that one person's exaggeration is another's normal. What IS overreacting, anyway? If I find myself standing near a wasp's nest, I almost panic and have to get out of there. People look at me with puzzled expressions and say "Get a grip! They are just bugs!" But my reality is that I am extremely allegic to the stings and will end up in the hospital, if stung. Am I still "overreacting?" Or is it a "proportional response," given my particular sensitivities? Or is the underlying Truth that everyone responded appropriately to the situation?

I think we do ourselves a disservice when we try to clamp too narrow definitions on stuff like "how we should react" in a specific situation. As HSPs, we observe and perceive more deeply, and since most HSPs are also intuitive/empathic, we also respond to "things unseen" by most people. Yet, for us they are very real. I feel that sensitivity and the appearance of overracting (in the perception of non-HSPs, especially) are quite consistent... and thus neither something to feel concerned about, nor something to apologize for. We see the metaphorical 18-wheeler bearing down on us before others, and so our immediate "let's get out of the way" response is seen as "hysterical" by those who don't perceive the speeding truck till it's right in their face.

That doesn't make us wrong, merely different.

The Pervasiveness of Abuse: Denial of Voice

In one of the HSP groups on Yahoo, one conversation has recently been going on the topic of abuse-- most specifically, verbal and emotional abuse.

Based on talking to 100's (maybe 1000's?) of HSPs via email over the past decade, and from message boards and listservs and online communities, as well as from Gatherings and workshops... it seems to be a sad fact that an alarming number of HSPs end up being part of an emotionally/verbally abusive dynamic I can best describe as "denial of voice."

It may be that everyone who has something "a little different" about them (HSP or not) is subject to having their reality questioned by the mainstream, but with the typical HSPs' soft spoken and accommodating demeanor, they seem more likely to have their voice "walked on" by dominant (but usually insecure) personalities. In isolated incidents it might not really constitute "abuse," but as a pattern in primary relationships/friendships it quickly does cross over into abuse. Invalidating someone because you feel threatened by their not thinking like you is-- at the very LEAST-- a form of bullying. Bullying as a long term pattern is abusive.

I was raised with this pattern, and have become rather "intimately familiar" with it, as I worked through my large "valise" of old baggage. My typical memory of childhood would be making statements like "Mom, the label in my shirt is scratchy," and getting responses like "Oh, what absolute nonsense! You can't feel a thing;" or if I expressed sadness over some roadkilled animal at the side of the road my dad might say "Rubbish! People don't feel sad over such things." Quite literally, your voice is "denied." And in the process, you gain a feeling of being "defective." For me, it became my "truth" (false, rather than my Authentic Truth) as I reached adulthood that my feelings had "no value." Thus, I "learned" to not HAVE feelings.

Most people don't recognize this type of dynamic as "something" because it doesn't look abusive... there's no yelling, and to most people it just looks like "friendly bantering" between spouses/family members. In fact, most mental health professionals (except emotional abuse specialists) will semi-brush it aside and say stuff like "You just need some assertiveness training." Useful as that may be (and I certainly don't deny that it has its place), fighting fire with fire doesn't actually remove the fire. The situation is generally self-perpetuating, because the abuser paints themselves the "victim" of someone's hypersensitivity.

Abuse is wrong, no matter what form it takes.

Newcomers to the realm of High Sensitivity

It always delights me when I come across a "new" HSP on my travels.

Of course, we've all been the way we are since birth, so "new" is a relative term. In this case, I mean this as a person who talks about their life and I recognize that they simply must be an HSP. And with a bit of quiet explanation, I can help them see that all the pain, and all the feeling like a misfit doesn't mean there's something "wrong" with them.

An elderly gentleman-- who has since passed away-- once told me that a good goal for living was to "Leave the world a better place for us having been here." Although he was no HSP, those words made a lot of sense... and, in a way, they seem very fitting of the social consciousness often found among HSPs.

As I have pointed out before, we tend to get trapped with the idea that the "improvement" we owe the world must be very large. Which, in fact, is not true at all. Just talking to this one person, and explaining to them what the HSP trait is, and how it might affect their life, does make a difference. And so, everytime you welcome a "newcomer" to the concept of being highly sensitive, you are making the world a better place.

California Gathering postscript

I felt disappointed that I did not end up going to the 5th annual Gathering in California, earlier this month. In a sense, the Gatherings have come to be like a "touchpoint to sanity" for me, in recent years. But it was not to be, as there was a contract on the house (which eventually fell through) which made it infeasible for me to leave. The event was at Walker Creek Ranch again this year, and I was looking forward to going back.

I have been waiting for feedback to arrive from some of the people who went, but have not yet heard anything. The world seems to be somewhat in upheaval these days, and it makes me wonder how the atmosphere at the Gathering might have been. These seem to be difficult days for HSPs. The world is increasingly being torn by strife and wars, and evermore aggressiveness and competitiveness seems to be the order of the day, in order for people to just make ends meet in the working life.

The Struggle to Embrace Our HSP-ness

Many HSPs struggle with their lives. Of course, "struggle" is probably a normal part of all lives, but it seems like HSPs struggle more, perhaps because they are more deeply affected by events around them. However, I don't think that tells the whole story.

Elaine Aron describes the HSP trait as "neutral," and invites us to find ways to honor our sensitivity, and make the most of our gifts. That said, I must confess that among the 100's of HSPs I have met over the past decade, most have shared more pain, struggle and lamentation than anything else. I hear these HSPs exclaim "This is not a gift! This is a curse!" Thinking back over my own journey, perhaps I used to do the same, myself. But, as I look deeper into the underlying reasons for the struggle, I think perhaps we "miss the point," somehow.

I think we may do ourselves a disfavor by comparing our lives too much to the norm; the so-called "societal standard." There's really a bit of a dichotomy there-- because by recognizing we're HSPs we have just taken upon ourselves the notion that we're a little "different" from everybody else, yet we continue to measure the "content of our lives" against what the rest of the world does. Stated a little differently, many of those who report struggles are reporting those struggles in areas that in NO WAY make any attempt to incorporate the gifts of the HSP trait into what they are doing. Metaphorically speaking, it's a bit like being hypersensitive to sound and then standing around complaining that you're just not able to work in the business of testing jet engines. Well.... HELLO! Spud Webb (who is 5'7") may have played in the NBA, but basketball players are typically 6'6", and most people who are 5'7" realize that a basketball career is probably not a good fit for them.

The point I am trying to make here, is that many of our ostensible "struggles" are not at all about being an HSP, and all about our own stubbornness.

Truly accepting one's HSP-ness is also about making wise choices. Honoring the trait is about making the most of who we are, rather than standing around complaining that it's the trait's "fault" that we can't become the next Mario Andretti.

I spent many years in business/sales/marketing, and never really felt "right" about it... but also was following a path that represented my feeling of what I "should" be doing to build a "successful" career. It wasn't really my definition of life, but some "outside factor's" definition. Learning that I was an HSP offered me an invitation to look deeper at what my life really "meant," and where I fit in, in the world. And I took the invitation to "re-invent" myself, and choose a more "HSP-friendly" lifestyle.

So here's a question for you, whether you've just discovered the trait, or have known about it for a while:

"Are you working WITH your sensitivity, or AGAINST it?"