It was just one of those days where everything had gone wrong.
I’d tried to make sourdough bread, but it hadn’t risen properly… so then it didn’t bake properly, and somehow the crust was jaw-achingly crunchy while the middle was soggy.
I’d tried to put on makeup, and not only did the makeup not look good, but I accidentally squeezed a line of foundation onto my brand new favorite hoodie…and despite trying everything under the sun to get the stain out, it wouldn’t budge.
I’d been looking forward to eating a specific snack for hours when I discovered that the container—which was in the fridge, acting full—was, in fact, completely empty.
I was mildly irritable throughout the day, but pretty proud of myself for handling all these minor setbacks ok.
Look at me go! So resilient!
Then toward the end of the day, I tried on a new pair of pants which had fit perfectly right before I washed and dried them on too-high heat, and discovered that they were now way too tight.
And I lost my goddamn mind.
My vision got all zoomy and weird, and it was like the volume of the whole world was suddenly turned up way too loud.
I had already taken the too-shrunken pants off, but I still felt like I could feel them on me. Everywhere on my body that was being touched by fabric suddenly seemed to be either burning my skin or squeezing me in a python death grip.
While everything had been fine moments before, the sunlight coming in through the window now seemed garish and piercing, and I realized all at once how intolerably cluttered and messy the whole room was.
So… this is how “overstimulation” feels for me.
Overstimulation, sometimes called “sensory overload” or just “overwhelm” can be a deeply unpleasant experience. To me, it feels like the same sensation you would get if you were sitting in a quiet room, and then suddenly loud rock music started blasting out of the speaker right next to you. It’s jarring, it’s startling, and if you’re sensitive like me, it’s literally physically painful.
I used to think of these moments as me being “too sensitive” or “not resilient enough.” In the past, I would either judge myself for crying over something as stupid as too-tight pants, or I would immediately lash out at the person closest to me, and then feel bad for losing control.
But this time, I did neither of those things. Instead, I employed the three most impactful tools I’ve discovered for such moments:
I named what was going on to myself and to my partner. I stood there for a moment noticing how loud and painful everything had suddenly gotten before recognizing the experience as sensory overload. Then I said something like “uh oh, the world just got very loud and bad” to my partner, who understood what I meant immediately, due to past conversations we’ve had, and responded with compassion and gentleness.
I honored my sensory needs. My clothes touching me felt really bad and suffocating, so I took off everything I was wearing, right down to my sock and underwear, and replaced them with my softest, baggiest, sensory-issue friendlist clothing. (Yes, I literally have a drawer filled with sensory-friendly clothing for just such an occasion.) Then I closed the curtains, turned my podcast off, and sat completely still for a few minutes in the dark and quiet.
I treated the overwhelm like a friend. Having learned so much about highly sensitive people and sensory processing sensitivity over the last year, I’ve come to think of the state of overwhelm as a dear friend who only shows up when I’m in need of some tough love, protection, or wisdom. Now that I’ve come to trust and respect their wisdom, I try to always reflect on their message, and get curious about why they showed up. This time around I realized I’d been experiencing each minor setback throughout the day as a sort of personal failure, and telling myself a bit of a story about what it all meant. It wasn’t a big deal, but the story in the background of my mind had been something like “I suck at basic life tasks that other people instinctively know how to do.” Also all of my “failures” that day had centered around feminine-coded activities (baking, makeup, stain removal, laundry) and I hadn’t clocked that something deeper was coming up for me around that. In treating my state of overwhelm as important information from a loving brain and body, rather than a character flaw or problem, I was able to connect the dots and process what needed processing to feel better.
This story might not seem like a very big deal, but for me, it was.
Learning how to understand and interact with sensory overload and overstimulation/overwhelm as a highly sensitive person has been nothing short of life-changing, and it’s why I’ve been so passionate about helping others do the same.
If you resonate with the experience of getting overwhelmed by (seemingly) small things, I’m making a self-study course for you on Patreon!
It’s called Highly Sensitive & Thriving, and you can access the course material on Patreon for only $25/month!
A new module of content gets published on the first of every month, so if you’re subscribed at the $25/month level or higher, you’ll get access to the new webinar and worksheets this Saturday! The module is called Understanding “Overwhelm” & Identifying Your “Overwhelm Triggers,” and it’s packed with information, tools, and practices to help you understand and avoid getting totally hijacked or spiraling out in these moments!
Subscribe now for access, and feel free to hit reply with any questions!
Life as a sensitive person brings with it some extraordinary gifts and extraordinary challenges.
But it is possible to avoid getting overwhelm all the time, and to navigate the ups and downs with clarity, confidence, and self-compassion. I promise. :-)
Big hug,
Jessi
Comments