Beyond Blue: June 2007 Archives

If you tested positive as a highly sensitive person in the self-diagnosis I posted yesterday, you may benefit from knowing more about the HSP. Here's a good start (from Elaine Aron's book, "The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You").

FACT 1: Everyone, HSP or not, feels best when neither too bored nor too aroused [remember the author is not talking about sexual arousal].

An individual will perform best on any kind of task, whether engaging in a conversation or playing in the Super Bowl, if his or her nervous system is moderately alert and aroused. Too little arousal and one is dull, ineffective. To change that under-aroused physical state, we drink some coffee, turn on the radio, call a friend, strike up a conversation with a total stranger, change careers--anything!

At the other extreme, too much arousal of the nervous system and anyone will become distressed, clumsy, and confused. We cannot think; the body is not coordinated; we feel out of control. Again, we have many ways to correct the situation. Sometimes we rest. Or mentally shut down. Some of us drink alcohol or take a Valium (or six).

FACT 2: People differ considerably in how much their nervous system is aroused in the same situation, under the same stimulation.

The difference is largely inherited, and is very real and normal. In fact, it can be observed in all high animals--mice, cats, dogs, horses, monkeys, humans. Within a species, the percentage that is very sensitive to stimulation is usually about the same, around 15-20 percent. Just as some within a species are a little bigger in size than others, some are a little more sensitive. In fact, through careful breeding of animals, mating the sensitive ones to each other can create a sensitive strain in just a few generations. In short, among inborn traits of temperament, this one creates the most dramatic, observable differences.

Here are some physical strategies Aron mentions if you find yourself overaroused and about to have a meltdown (like I did in Toys-R-Us). She offers psychological methods, too, but I've found it more helpful to start with these physical suggestions. (Then again, that's coming from a person who has difficulty meditating if she's not burning calories.) The commentary is mine. (I got sick of the brackets, so I thought I'd just fly with my own descriptions of each suggestion.)

1. Get out of the situation!

For example, leave your kids with your husband and walk out of Toys-R-Us before you throw Elmo and his whistling buddies across the store. Or if a conversation about global warming, consumerism, or the trash crisis in the US is overwhelming you, simply walk away from it. My great aunt, Gigi, mastered this point. She knew her triggers, and if a conversation or setting was anywhere near her trigger point, she simply put one foot in front of another, and went bye-bye.

2. Close your eyes to shut out some of the stimulation.

Ever since my mom came down with a neurological tick of the eyelid called blepharospasm, I've become aware of how important shutting our eyes is to the nervous system. Her only option to keep her eyes open was to have an operation that would do just that...but then she wouldn't be able to shut them, and that would be even more detrimental to her well-being and ability to function. My mom's disorder is very much like an extreme arousal of the nervous system, and she often has to retreat somewhere to close her eyes. Only then can she retain her balance and her proper focus.

The only time I recommend not using this technique is on the road (if you're driving). (My mom and I argue about that all the time.)

3. Take frequent breaks.

This can be challenging if you are at work, or at home with kids as creative and energetic as mine (I can't pee without someone getting whacked in my absence). But HSPs need breaks to let the nervous system regenerate.

I must have known I was a HSP back in college, because three out of my four years, I opted for a tiny single room (a nun's closet, quite literally), rather than going in on a killer room if I roomed with three other people.

"Nope," I said to my prospective roomies. "Can't do it. Need my alone time, or else none of you would want to be around me. Trust me."

I would go to the extent of pasting black cardboard on my window, so that no one could tell if I was there, and I'd get my hours of solitude that I needed (of course I was also depressed).

Be creative. Take your break. Any way you can. Even it involves black construction paper.

4. Go outdoors.

This is a true saver for me. I need to be outside for at least an hour every day to get my sanity fix. Granted, I'm extremely lucky to be able to do so as a stay-at-home mom. But I think I would somehow shove it into my schedule even if I had to commute into DC everyday. Or maybe I would quit my DC job, because the commute was making me into a monster.

Even if I'm not walking or running or biking or swimming, being outside calms me in a way that the right pharmaceuticals do. With an hour with nature, I go from being a very bossy, opinionated, angry, cynical, uptight person into a bossy, opinionated, cynical relaxed person. And that makes the difference between having friends and a husband to have dinner with and a world that tells me to go eat a frozen dinner by myself because they don't want to catch whatever grumpy bug I have.

5. Use water to take the stress away.

While watching Disney's "Pocahantas" the other day with Katherine, I realized I must be part Native American. The sheer joy that Indian woman of healthy proportions (thank you, Disney, for not releasing another animated anorexic princess) shows upon paddling down the river, singing about how she is one with the water, makes me realize how universal the mood effect of water is, and especially to a HSP.

On the rainy or snowy days that I can't walk the double jogger over to Spa Creek or Back Creek, I do something the global-warming guys say not to, and take a long shower, imagining that I am in the middle of a beautiful Hawaii rain forest. I've always needed to chill out on the side of a lake, pond, creek, or bay--even the dirty St. Joseph's river in South Bend, Indiana, or Caesar Creek State Park (the closest thing to nature) near Dayton, Ohio.

"Water helps in many ways," writes Aron. "When overaroused, keep drinking it--a big glass of it once an hour. Walk beside some water, look at it, listen to it. Get into some if you can, for a bath or a swim. Hot tubs and hot springs are popular for good reasons."

6. Take a walk and calm your breathing.

A method that combines both of those things is walking meditation, a form of mindfulness meditation that involves focusing on the details of your movement and breath at the same time. Sayadaw U. Silananda, the Buddhist monk and scholar, compares the practice of mindfulness meditation to boiling water in his article "The Benefits of Walking Meditation":

If one wants to boil water, one puts the water in a kettle, puts the kettle on a stove, and then turns the heat on. But if the heat is turned off, even for an instant, the water will not boil, even though the heat is turned on again later. If one continues to turn the heat on and off again, the water will never boil. In the same way, if there are gaps between the moments of mindfulness, one cannot gain momentum, and so one cannot attain concentration. That is why yogis at our retreats are instructed to practice mindfulness all the time that they are awake, from the moment they wake up in the morning until they fall asleep at night. Consequently, walking meditation is integral to the continuous development of mindfulness.

Thanks to reader, Jean, who wrote the following message on my "The 'We' Pronoun" post:

My husband died suddenly, 3 days shy of our 15th wedding anniversary. I was 36, with children aged 9 and 13. Someone at the funeral told me it just gets longer in-between cries. I have passed this sentiment on to many in the passing 12 years. In the same breath, I normally add the quote "When God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window." For me, that "window" is a wonderful man who has taught me that I can move on without forgetting the joy of that first true love. The most affirming part of this tale, is that I met this wonderful man at church. God has blessed me with a new beginning, and is there to rejoice in it with me, as He was when I was in mourning.

The maxim, "Where one door shuts, another opens," is quoted, most famously, in the 21st chapter of Spanish novelist Miguel de Cervantes's classic, "Don Quixote."

And I pondered it today as I opened my mail.

There, on our kitchen counter (buried underneath the old apple cores, brown bananas and three days worth of mail), lay a letter from Boston College--thin, like the one I received 18 years ago that said something like this: "Your grades are good enough, and you've got the whole president-of-your-freshman-class thing going for you. But man, girlfriend, you forgot to eat your Wheaties the morning you took the SATs, because your scores truly suck. So, until some smarties decline our invitation to study amidst the academic stars, you get to sit your butt on the bench and wait."

The thin envelope slightly crushed my 17-year-old heart because my (detailed) plan was to major in international business at BC. My dad and I visited the school in the fall of my junior year in high school, and I fell in love with its campus and its city.

Instead I landed at a college in the ugly city of South Bend, Indiana. And thank God I did.

Because within one week at Saint Mary's College, my alma mater and spiritual mother ship, I was in therapy and had begun a deep search into my soul, trying to figure out who exactly I wanted to be, and what I needed to do to get there.

The exceptionally nurturing environment of this all-women's college made it possible for me to begin my recovery from depression and addiction. There, in a setting where teachers and counselors cared enough to get involved in a student's life--probing her with important questions, and listening patiently while she arrived at some answers--I found my true self, and learned bits of wisdom that have guided me to this day.

Much of who I am today was born in my four years there.

I discovered my inner theologian--a person who wasn't satisfied with the neat and tidy answers printed in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, a curious scholar who was willing to go to great lengths to understand her faith (even if the holy trinity is a mystery, in the end)--and the writer, both of whom may have suffocated had I pursued international business (which fits me about as well as Martha Stewart's apron) at a large college like BC.

Oprah told the 1997 graduating class of Wellesley college that failure is God's way of saying "Excuse me, you're moving in the wrong direction."

As I reflect on some of my disappointments throughout life, I tend to agree with her. If I had landed the publishing job in New York that I so badly wanted, then I wouldn't have met Eric (and had David and Katherine). My dad's death, as hard as that was at the time, has, in a way, healed and united our family. My depression has certainly added a new depth and candor to my writing (and to my life), and has provided me a type of rebirth or new direction in each. And, most recently, my running injury has forced me to rediscover my love of swimming and biking.

In 1978 Oprah was demoted as an on-air anchorwoman in Baltimore because she got too emotional with the people she interviewed. She was given her own talk show as a way to finish out her contract. But there she found her true self.

"And so, I took what had been a mistake, what had been perceived as a failure with my career as an anchor woman in the news business and turned it into a talk show career that's done OK for me!" she said.

Today's letter from Boston College was thin. But it wasn't a rejection. On the contrary, it was an invitation to participate as a panel speaker in a national symposium on marriage, hosted by BC's The Church in the 21st Century Center.

I don't think I can do it (my no-more-than-25-hours-of-childcare-a-week rule, plus I have little marriage advice other than to say if you treat your spouse with respect and sleep with him at least twice a week, everything seems to fall into place).

But it sure was nice to be asked, and to get my letter of acceptance--even though it was worded a little differently than I had expected.

Click here to read Oprah's entire 1997 commencement address to the graduates of Wellesley College.

For more inspiring words for graduates, check out the gallery Beliefnet put up yesterday, based on the quotes I compiled in a previous post.

What are some of the windows God has opened in your life when a door was slammed shut?

I truly believe that the techniques used by parents to potty-train an obstinate child could, if adopted by the United Nations and NATO, lead to world peace.On a micro level, they can go a far way to tame a mood...

Last time I potty-trained a kid, I relied heavily on the Serenity Prayer, which helps me with all of life's hurdles. Click here to read an article I wrote a few years ago, when David was the one in diapers....

A few weeks ago, I launched my series "How Do You Move Beyond Blue?" with an interview with Gretchen Rubin, a fellow blogger who is working on the "Happiness Project."Now I bring to you the lovely and inspirational Sandy Slaga,...

Here is one of my favorite posts of Sandy's blog, about her struggle of whether or not to return to a law practice.Sherrie Sisk's guest post at Susan Carter Liebel's blog, Build a Solo Practice, LLC, spoke to me. Sherrie's...