The hardest part for me isn't admitting that I'm sensitive anymore.
It's closing the phone and shutting off the thing that gives me anxiety. Why is this so hard to do?
I can know I've had enough. I can feel the anxiety building and sometimes the tears that well up in my eyes over a strangers story. I can already tell that whatever I'm reading is going to follow me through the day.
I talk more about being a highly sensitive person, where some of this came from for me, and the boundaries I've started putting around what I take in with videos and social media.
Watch the full video here:
The guilt is almost harder than the overwhelm
A few nights before I filmed the video, I checked the news before bed.
This is already a questionable life choice for me.
I hadn't looked at it all day, so I told myself I was just catching up. Then one story became another, which became social media doom scrolling, which became another story, and suddenly I was wide awake thinking about horrible things happening to people I have never met.
I knew I needed to put the phone down.
The weird part was that I felt bad doing it.
That is what I keep coming back to.
I don't want to live completely disconnected from what is happening in the world. I want to know things. I care about people and world events.
Injustice really gets to me. Animals suffering gets to me. These are my two biggest stressors in life that create this anxiety and overwhelm.
Someone else crying can make me cry even when I don't know the person.
So when I decide I've had enough, a part of my brain still tries to turn that into a character assessment.
Are you ignoring this?
Are you being selfish?
Do you only care when it's comfortable?
Meanwhile, I am lying in bed in Vancouver, Washington (or lounging on my comfy couch), accomplishing absolutely nothing except making myself anxious.
Very helpful, Amber.
I don't think caring requires unlimited access to me
This is probably the distinction I'm still learning.
Caring about something and continuously exposing myself to it are not the same thing.
I can care deeply about what is happening to someone without reading every story about it.
I can care about an issue without allowing it into the first hour of my morning and the last hour before I sleep.
I can decide that a particular person, account or conversation is too negative for me and still be a compassionate human being.
That sounds very obvious when I type it.
Apparently my brain occasionally needs the written reminder.
For years, I thought the answer was to become tougher.
Now I think I need to know myself well enough to recognize when I've crossed my own line.
How I know I've taken in too much
I'm getting better at noticing the pattern before I am completely overwhelmed.
For me, it usually looks something like this:
- I tell myself I'm just checking one thing, then I move from one story to another and eventually onto social media.
- Whatever I saw stays in my head long after I've put the phone down.
- I feel anxious or full of dread instead of simply informed.
- It starts interfering with sleep.
- I know I want to stop, but guilt is the thing keeping me there.
- My brain starts treating everything like it needs to be solved right now.
That last one isn't limited to the news either.
I can take a perfectly ordinary decision and think about it from so many angles that eventually every option feels wrong. Somehow my brain turns a normal choice into a situation where choosing incorrectly could apparently destroy my entire life.
Again, very relaxing.
Sometimes I need a boundary with the world.
Sometimes I need one with myself.
What I actually do when I've had enough
None of my boundaries are particularly revolutionary.
Most notifications on my phone are turned off. I limit how much news I consume. I've unfollowed accounts that make my feed feel relentlessly negative. I've gotten more comfortable removing myself from situations that feel toxic.
And sometimes I physically go do something else.
Drive somewhere.
Take Georgie out.
Knit.
Read.
Eat lunch.
Sit near the ocean and pay attention to the ocean instead.
That day on the Oregon coast wasn't some dramatic escape from my life. I just wanted a different day.
I think that distinction matters to me.
I'm not trying to disappear from the world.
I'm trying to participate in my own life while I'm here.
The book that helped me understand myself
One thing I didn't want to lose in all of this is the book a longtime subscriber named Sandy sent me years ago:
Thriving as an Empath: 365 Days of Self-Care for Sensitive People by Judith Orloff and also Life Strategies for Sensitive People
It is designed so you can read one small entry at a time, and it helped give me language for things I had experienced for years without really understanding.
That was huge for me.
Sometimes having a definition for something changes the way you look at yourself.
I spent a lot of years thinking, "Why am I like this?"
Finding language for it allowed me to start asking a much more useful question:
"Okay, this is how I am. What do I need?"
I like that question a lot better.
Resources Mentioned
The excerpt that I spoke about at the end of the video is here on Instagram if you want the full copy.
Thriving as an Empath: 365 Days of Self-Care for Sensitive People by Judith Orloff and also Life Strategies for Sensitive People
Knitting pattern for the blanket and all supplies
A Quiet Note From Me
And if you like the analog side of all of this, I also have The Story Post, my monthly snail-mail club. I send an actual envelope in the mail with a letter and a few creative pieces I've made around that month's theme.
No notifications required, which feels very appropriate for this particular conversation.
Learn more about The Story Post here: Click here
I'm curious about something, though.
If you're sensitive too, how do you know when you've taken in enough?
I don't mean the perfect answer. I mean the actual little sign that tells you, "Okay, I need to put this down now."
Leave a comment below and let's continue the conversation with each other.
The Table: A small, thoughtful space for conversation, shared experiences, and slowing down together.
