What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up As An HSP?

When I was about five or six, I decided I wanted to play the flute. From that age to about 30 it was my dream to be a great flautist.

From the time things went all kablooey and sideways with that dream until about 40, all I wanted to do was figure out what I wanted to do that I wouldn’t hate doing.

For the next seven or so years the best thing about work was leaving at the end of the day.

From the day that job ended and I began writing and editing and publishing books, I felt I’d found something I was not only good at, but creatively fulfilling. Still, I can’t say I felt as if I were me, completely doing me.

That’s why, when the other day a friend told me, “You’re just so Heidi,” and my response was, “And getting

every day,” I knew something big had happened.

Which reminded me of all the times over my lifetime that people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. No one, not even my parents, who supported me through flute and piano and theory lessons, were particularly enamored when their friends asked the question and I said, “I’m going to be a musician.” I mean, you could see their eyes roll. “Oh, that’s nice,” they said. Meaning, “Your poor parents.”

I decided to ask myself this long-honored traditional question again today. And no, we won’t get into the fact that I’ve of a certain age that might preclude that kind of question. Fageddaboudit.) Anyway, I closed my eyes and posed the question: Heidi, do you know what YOU want to BE when you grow up?

And do you know what the answer was? You coulda smacked me upside the head with a V8. Because what came out of my mouth was, “YES! Absolutely! I want to be more of me!”

I was so excited by my own spontaneous response that I did a little jig. It hasn’t been this way in the past, which is why it’s so important now. The thing is, that if you don’t really know who you are, how can you possibly want to be more of it?

How can you possibly go around thinking, “Well, this is so groovy. I think I’ll just go on being more of me and diggin’ it?” You can’t. And, while I’m absolutely positively no Pollyanna, I’ll take a moment here to give you just a taste of how much my life has changed.

What does “more of me” mean now? I love that I can say this. That I have the words to express what “more of me” means because I know it’s true—I FEEL it’s true. MORE OF ME means more capacity for love, ease, generosity, freedom, abundance, creativity, inspiration, joy, and the sheer doggedness to live a life of alignment.

So, if I were to ask you, my lovely HSPs, “What do YOU want to be when you grow up?” what do you think your answer would be?

That’s all for today, folks. Join me next time on the Celestial Professor channel when we’ll dig a little deeper into what makes us high sensitives tick.

And DON’T FORGET to join us for the very first Expert HSP Summit of its kind on Saturday, October 15 @ 1 PM PT

at https://youtu.be/McDwEL-ISMo

Heidiconnolly.com / hspness.com / f-b elevatingyourhspness

The post What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up As An HSP? first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

It’s Time to Elevate & Celebrate Your High Sensitivity with Heidi Connolly, the Celestial Professor!

**** Be among the first 10 people to join this event and you will receive a gift of a completely FREE 15-minute consultation with me, Heidi Connolly, author, intuitive coach, medium, and guided musician. ****

This is the Celestial Professor’s first HSP Summit with expert guests discussing their personal and professional experiences as Highly Sensitive People and how they’ve learned to amplify–and celebrate!–their own HSP qualities for a fulfilling and High-Frequency Life.

JOIN US SATURDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1 PM PT @ https://youtu.be/McDwEL-ISMo

It’s time to choose the life you want by learning what you need. What do I mean by that?

Most people talking about being “highly sensitive” are focused on coping with what feels like a “problem.” But I don’t believe that’s true.

I believe that only when we really begin to understand the meaning of sensitivity–the fact that it speaks to our divinely intuitive natures, our innate abilities, and our critical powers of heart-and-mind-partnered capabilities–are we able to become truly sovereign beings that can use our so-called “sensitivities” to uplift the world.

If you want to learn how, this summit is a good first step. All these speakers are HSPs, all have gone through challenging times to understand who they are, but, best of all, they have learned to utilize who and what they are for their own benefit and the greater good.

Guests include myself, plus:

Irene Weinberg, Grief & Rebirth Podcast;
Jill Lebeau, Spiritual Sandbox Podcast;
Claudia Helt, Center for Peaceful Transitions;
Sherri Cortland, Author and Speaker;
Dana Stovern, Magic of Somatic Money Podcast;
Heidi Winkler, Winkler Leadership Academy

. . . All experts in their fields, ALL HSPs, and all dedicated to uplifting the world.

heidiconnolly.com | f-b: hspness | blog: hspness.com. Upcoming new book: Elevate Your HSP-ness: How to Live a High-Frequency Life that Amplifies Your Vibration, Celebrates Your Sensitivities, & Uplifts the World.

The post JOIN THE EXPERTS FOR THE 1ST HSP SUMMIT OF ITS KIND!!! first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

The cure to the HSP’s psychic sponge syndrome: Laugh!!!!!

I’m back today with another bit of down-to-earth spirituality. Today’s topic? Spiritual irreverence.

Can you handle the fallout if you’ve forgotten how to laugh?

It’s not every day that you find yourself doing something that causes an uproar of divergent opinions—and resultant advice. Well, at least it hasn’t been that way for me.

I mean, it’s true that “coming out” as a medium caused quite a stir. There I was, Harvard Girl, the writer, editor, book designing, publishing consultant of Harvard Girl Word Services, suddenly saying I was talking to dead people. So, I guess you could say that I know something about strong reactions. And we won’t even get into family. Telling your mother you’re hearing from good ol’ Dad? Mmm, turns out, not the best convo starter ever….

Anyway….

When I started writing books (with my dear departed husband) and talking about us all being Vacationing Angels, I learned pretty fast how to spot the dedicated, true-blue skeptics from the “well, I might be willing to hear more” type. I also learned, really really fast that it didn’t matter. That the only thing that mattered was being true to myself.

• Which brings me to today’s down-to-earth spiritual subject matter [slide of CP animation]
• When you’re true to yourself, you attract other people who are true to themselves.
• When you’re true to yourself, it doesn’t matter if other people agree with you or not.
• When you’re true to yourself, most of the people you attract are willing to listen to what you have to say, even if they end up disagreeing with it.
• When you’re true to yourself, you feel good.

Which…leads me to the title of my new book, Elevating Your HSP-ness….

I can hear you….

Go ahead. Say it out loud. Reading the words just doesn’t do it. When I spoke the title aloud for the first time, I couldn’t stop giggling. Naturally, I discounted its use. I mean, right? Who’d willingly, knowingly, use a word for a spiritual book about being a high sensitive that sounds like penis?  Not me!

After that, the title went through months of iterations. “The HSP’s Owners Manual.” “The HSP’s Roadmap to Greatness.” “Embracing your High Sensitivity.” The problem was that no matter how much these titles described what I was trying to convey, none of them made me FEEL GOOD. None of them resonated, vibrated with the frequency of YES!!! THIS MAKES ME WANT TO GIGGLE AND LAUGH AND FEEL JOYFUL!!!

My psychic sponge was picking up everyone’s opinion but my own.

I didn’t know what to do. I kept going back and forth, back and forth, buying domain after domain and reworking my potential book covers. What to do?

Ultimately? I did exactly what I talk about doing in this book: I let it go. I worked on other things—the writing, the blogs, the vlogs, all that stuff. And then, one day, I was talking to a friend and colleague (who just happens to be in my video Summit linked below), Jill Lebeau. When I mentioned all my potential names, she thought they were “fine.” Which we all know is code for BORING. Then, I said, “I wanted to name it Elevating Your HSP-ness, but you know, that would just be crazy. Too irreverent. What would people think?”

The reality is that my psychic sponge was too darn overloaded to check in with my own guidance–that Intuitive Guidance System we all have!

There was a moment of silence. Then Jill got it—and cracked up. She laughed and laughed and kept on laughing. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. But, finally, when she got herself under control, she said, “There’s nothing irreverent about bliss and joy in spirituality! We need to laugh to raise our frequency. And that’s what you’re talking about—living a high-frequency life! I think it’s perfect.”

It took me a while, but I couldn’t ignore the high vibration of what she said—and what I felt. So, yes. The name of my book is ELEVATING YOUR HSP-NESS. After all, I’m talking about “down-to-earth spirituality” here. And that means applying spirituality to everyday life as an Angel on Vacation. Celebrating those qualities of you that are the absolute highest frequency. Because we can’t spend our time “way up in the clouds” and live “down here” without some kind of mechanism that invites us to stay present. To use all our “up in the clouds”-ness for the express purpose of enjoying the earthly aspects of our being.

So I say go for it. I’ll be right there, laughing along with you in loving irreverence.

The post The cure to the HSP’s Psychic Sponge Syndrome: Laugh!!!!!! first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

Life After Death

I know what miracles are. I know because I see them happen every day—and because some of them happen to me. I guess you could say that I’m proof, or my life is proof, or, for that matter, my very existence, is proof. There have been so many miracles in my life that choosing just one to write about and calling it the “biggest” would be like loving one of my children more than the other.

I loved my husband, Randy Michael Connolly, until death did us part. So much so that it felt as if I’d died with him. By the time December 2013 rolled around, I’d been praying for my own death for a little over a year, although I still hadn’t conjured the nerve to take my own life, and realized I might never find that nerve, no matter how devastated I was. The only thing that could possibly keep me going, I determined, was a miracle.

I wanted, I needed, some kind of concrete, measurable evidence that he was still with me, just as he’d promised he’d be as he was dying.

Night after night of crying myself to sleep had mitigated neither my desperation nor my depression. Nor had knowing that there were people around me who were hearing Randy, in spirit form, clearly and irrefutably. Sure, I appreciated their loving messages, as indirect as they were. But what about me? I was his wife, dammit. Didn’t I deserve to hear those messages straight from the source?

Then, one night, a night like all the rest where I’d passed out after hours of tossing and turning and abject anguish (I don’t profess to be one of the stoic ones), I was awakened at 3 am by a loud—booming—voice that said, “Get out your pen and get writing. We’re going to write a book.”

I can’t tell you why and I can’t tell you how, but I knew in every cell of my being that this disembodied vocalization belonged to my husband (and not only because I was alone in the house). What I did not realize was that the result of this mandate, and the ensuing half hour of notebook scribblings, would be the basis for our first “ghostwritten” book together, Crossing the Rubicon: Love Poems Past the Point of No Return.

You might think I’m going to say the miracle was that Randy, in spirit form, woke me up and downloaded a book of poems, along with an almost instant comprehension and precisely worded description about how to form a new relationship with your loved one after death, and how to write about it so others would understand and benefit.

You might think it was that since that night I’ve been able to communicate with Randy, and the dead brother of manicurist, and the dead wife of my father’s best friend, and many other spirit beings who so much want to communicate with their own loved ones.

Either way, you’d be right.

But, honestly? The most profound and shocking miracle is that without the gift of Randy’s dying, I would never have discovered, or perhaps I should say uncovered, the brilliant conscious creation practice that has become my way of life.

A celestial life.

Is it possible to recognize a miracle—a blessing, even—while you feel you’re being ripped to shreds? When your soul can’t see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel even if it were wrapped in the glow of every star in the sky? When your heart is gasping for breath in order to survive one more minute, one more hour, one more day?

My answer?

• BRD–Before Randy’s Death: Absolutely not.
• ARD–After Randy’s Death: Absolutely. Even if you’re in the throes of agony. Because once your anguish has been imbued with conscious awareness, the frequency of unconditional love, the vibration of truth, and the resonance of wisdom, nothing is ever the same again.

For me, on that night, even as I wrote in the dark, sobbing over the pages of an old lined notebook, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, fear, grief, and the sense that I had been abandoned to fend for myself in a world I could no longer make sense of, I was concomitantly aware that I was feeling something I’d never felt before.

Even in that state of complete overwhelm, I knew I was experiencing something so enormous, so rock-me-to-the-core powerful, that while I couldn’t name it at the time, I could feel it blooming inside me, as evidential as the scar on the inside of my thigh, the one I’d gotten in a motorcycle mishap in high school. It seemed as if I’d always had this thing that was burgeoning—always known it, always felt it—but would never again fail to recognize it and cherish it.

The wave of unconditional love that flowed through me arrived in the form of complete phrases and rhymes and prose: an unabridged conversation. It arose in the vibration of truth, through the voice of my dead husband. It emerged in the resonance of wisdom, as a new kind of knowledge I was being invited to believe in, accept, and share. It emanated with the awareness that, even as I wept and the lead in my pencil dwindled to a stub, I would never be the same again.

Turns out, it’s true.

Because nothing has been the same since that night.

I no longer have any need to pretend that I have it all under control, or that life makes sense. I don’t and it doesn’t. Which is precisely what makes miracles so…miraculous.

I now understand that all our attempts to control, fix, cajole, maneuver, manipulate, push, and pray are nothing more than miracle-blockers. When viewed through the lens of retrospection, miracles are the fruit of faith, not force.

When I met Randy after my first 40 years on the planet, I knew that was a miracle. The circumstances were too bizarre, too completely without precedent. We agreed that we were two of the truly fortunate ones. We’d prayed for a miracle. We’d gotten it. End of story.

Then he died.

Which compelled to ask, What does that say about our supposed miracle? Was I wrong? Were we wrong? Was this some kind of a joke, a faux miracle? Had I been deceived? If God wanted me to be happy, why take away the one person who made me happy?

Could something that once looked like a miracle of light and love turn into something so sinister and dark, something so obviously not miraculous?

I did not know the answer then. But these questions are what goaded me on, deep into realms that I’d never previously tapped. I explored karma, life after “death,” past lives, meditation, and conscious creation. I acquiesced into what has been so aptly called the dark night of the soul. I allowed myself to be held by those who’d had similar experiences and encouraged me to believe that I would come out the other side…whole again.

I eventually learned that my sensitivity was simply code for being an HSP, a Highly Sensitive Person, and medium for the spirit world, and that tapping into that ability would prepare me for becoming a facilitator for other HSPs.

Finally, ultimately, I learned that miracles are in the eye of the beholder, like these:

1. I contracted with Randy and agreed to be his partner in this lifetime to help him learn that someone (me) could and would love him unconditionally—a lesson that allowed him to cross over knowing he’d achieved his spiritual goal.
2. Randy is now helping me learn, from across the veil, that having trust and faith in what you can’t see is the means by which we can influence the energetic force that determines our ongoing lives.
3. Questioning every core belief you once held deepens your understanding that the spirit world is always communicating with us, and that it’s simply up to us to learn how to listen. For me, this has meant having the ability to share such insights with others.

The biggest miracle of all, you ask?

That’s easy.

There is life after death. On both sides of the veil.

* * * *

MY SPECIAL OFFER THIS MONTH

Purchase a copy of Crossing the Rubicon and receive the complete audiobook version, read by Heidi

and backed by her inspirationally guided flute music, for free! Use CODE RUBICON11 at checkout.

The post Death and Grief and the Highly Sensitive Person first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

Just because someone is high-functioning doesn’t mean they’re not highly sensitive. All it really means, at least if they’re in a healthy state of mind, body, and soul, is that they’ve somehow learned to direct their sensitivities and kick them up a notch or two.

Anderson Cooper is a journalist, and a great one. But he’s also, apparently, an emotional and loving father. You have to imagine he’s pretty adept at organizing his life, and was probably a darn good student as well. All great qualities, but nothing to do with the qualities of being an HSP.

Could Anderson Cooper be one of US? Could he be an HSP?

I think he might be. How do I know? Because—though I’m the first to admit that I’m no Anderson Cooper in a zillion different ways!—I am, and have been, high-functioning for a large percentage of my life.

But the real point I’m trying to make is that being an HSP does not preclude being deliberately, determinedly, and successfully high-functioning.

On the other hand, just because you’re high-functioning does not necessarily mean you’re happy or even content. It certainly doesn’t mean self-satisfied, self-reliant, or full of self-worth.

All it means is that you have the skills to do whatever it is you want or have chosen or sometimes have been coerced to do well enough to get the job done. You could be a dishwasher or you could be a museum curator. It doesn’t necessarily mean you’re convinced you’re good at it or feel good doing it. It’s even possible you suffer from Imposter Syndrome, where, no matter how good you are at what you do, you still feel inadequate.

Ever wonder why actors tend toward screwed up personal lives?

We usually attribute their “problems” to too much fame and fortune. And, certainly, without those things they wouldn’t be in the situation they’re in.

But there’s more to it than that. There’s also the obvious fact that so many of them are highly sensitive people.

Can you imagine being an HSP who knows you take on other people’s energy, but don’t know what to do about it? Can you imagine being on a movie set with hundreds of movie people all milling about doing their jobs—many of them interacting with you—for hours and hours every single day? Can you imagine what it’s like to feel the feelings of the character you’re acting without feeling some kind of aftermath of leftover energy trails?

I can’t.

Sure, I’ve worked as a musician in orchestras; a human resource trainer in corporate America; a counselor for teenagers. But at no point did I recognize that the tremendous weight I carried around was due to all the energy of others flooding my being.

Sadly, even once I had an inkling that was what was going on, I still had no idea what to do about it.

Sometimes people seem to figure it out on their own.

Anderson Cooper seems to have figured it out on his own. Not that we have any idea what it’s like being Gloria Vanderbilt’s son, born and bred in his unusually eccentric circumstances. Maybe he’s had years of therapy, right? I mean, who can say? We surely don’t know how much of what we see is an act, being that he’s a TV personality and all.

But when I heard him talk about the loss of his brother to suicide and the recent death of his mother and how he wants nothing more than to pass on to his children who these people were to him “without it being cloaked in sadness,” I felt his willingness to dip into the pain of the loss and rise out again through love for his children.

We are not all Anderson Coopers.

We are not all super smart or super rich or super talented.

Yet, as HSPs, we are ALL fully capable of bringing out the best in ourselves by elevating the sensitivities we have so they serve us and all of humanity.

The post High-Functioning versus High-Sensitive: Are they mutually exclusive? first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

I’ve been an HSP for a long time. One might even say a very long time. So, I guess you could also say that I have a lot of experience when it comes to my HSP-ness. All those qualities that seemed to undermine me at every turn, every step of the way. Plus all the experiences I have undergone that have revealed all my sensitivities, each and every one, for what they really are: indicators of my amazing abilities to love, honor, respect–once I learned to use them, not let them abuse me.

The thing about sensitivities is that they often present in extremes. For example, if you’re hyper-sensitive to cold, you may be, as I am, hyper-sensitive to heat. If you’re hyper-sensitive to touch, you may be hyper-sensitive to the lack of it. If you’re hyper-sensitive to sound, you may be hyper-sensitive to the empty silence of quiet. Because we’re sensitive to everything. Just hang with 10 people saying nothing for a while and you’ll see what I mean.

Once again, yet another interesting conundrum for the Highly Sensitive Person. How can we rationalize the fact that we may be as uncomfortable in one set of circumstances and equally as uncomfortable in its apparent extreme opposite set of circumstances?

I can only share what I have come to realize.

On a societal level

We live in the age of soundbites and endless possibilities for distraction. Endless opportunities to fill the silence. If we don’t want to be alone with our thoughts, we almost never need to be.

On a community level:

Feeling  uncomfortable in crowds and/or social settings is typical for HSPs. Yet society teaches us that we are supposed to be good little children in the classroom and adept at navigating the world through some kind of inherent charm and know-how. If we aren’t, if we don’t or can’t or are not up to the task, we are made to feel small and inadequate. Our tendency is to seek out solitude rather than engage in frustrating attempts at socialization, even when solitude strikes a heavy chord of loss inside us.

On a familial level

Most everyone I’ve ever known suffers from the Family Syndrome: There’s nothing like being with family that could feel more comfortable, even if the circumstances are miserable; there’s something about having your expectations being fulfilled. While it might not feel like the good kind of comfortable, at least you know Uncle Joe might drink too much and Mom might tell you to get your hair cut. On the other hand, a family dinner can make you feel like running in the other direction so fast and so far that you’d never be seen or heard from again.

On a relationship level

I’ve often said that it’s important to be in relationship with someone you can be yourself with. Someone you can be with without saying anything, just being quiet and being comfortable at the same time. I still feel that way. But, more and more, *I’m realizing that it’s all about being comfortable with myself that matters. I don’t think I was ever truly comfortable anywhere, anytime, with anyone, until I became comfortable with my own being-ness, including my own HSP-ness.*

On a one-on-one level with self. See above*…Your relationship with Self is all that really matters.

QUESTION FOR THE DAY: 10 people go quiet at a party. Suddenly, things get really uncomfortable fast. What do you do?

• Do you rush to fill the silence?
• Do you pour another glass of wine?
• Do you make an inappropriate joke?
• Do you squirm in your seat and wish you were somewhere else?
• Do you make an excuse to leave the room?

There are different versions of quiet and different versions of noise. But there is only one version of you that matters.

The one that is in alignment.

It’s time to stop hiding and start Elevating Your HSP-ness!

Soon to be available at https://www.heidiconnolly.com

The post Is there such as thing as too much quiet when you’re a Highly Sensitive Person? first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

“The Package Came C.O.D.”

by Heidi Connolly

The package came C.O.D.

The delivery guy said it was for me

I signed for it, opened it, put it on, claimed it

I owned it then; it sure owned me;

I could have thrown it down

Kicked it to the floor

I could have sent it back

And slammed the door;

I could have just said no

I could have stood my ground

I should have watched it leave

Sent it back where it belonged;

’Cause when you live your life in denial

Of who you really are

The light you hold inside you

Sounds like whispers from afar;

You learn of love and how it hurts

For reasons of remorse

It churns and gnaws inside of you

And charts a deceptive course;

When fear is allowed to lead the way

The truth is buried alive

Without a chance to breathe and grow

With no chance to survive;

When doubt grows into hatred

It traps you like a snare

The burden of a thought

That’s really not ours to bear;

If you let it, it will cut you

Your wings clipped in despair

Every minute a sad reflection

Everyday another correction;

When the package came COD

And the delivery guy said it was for me

My life went driving down the street

I lived a lie in defeat;

But now I keep only what is mine

Whatever arrives must be divine

When it’s for me it’s whole, intact

This is a promise and a pact;

I close the door on everything else

I send it back much blessed

For only in the vibration of love

Is fear ever laid to rest;

I lift the veil of denial

I lift the weight of pain

I become the one I’m meant to be

Like a desert freed by rain.

I wrote this song in 2004 and “came upon” it today as I was searching for another file. You might call it a coincidence, but I would much rather land on the side of synchronicity, if for no other reason that it feels good when I do.

Yesterday I posted a poem by Becky Hemsley. Today I found my song. Notwithstanding my lack of songwriting ability and without knowing Becky’s intention for certain, it seems to me that we are talking about similar ideas about accepting who we are. As HSPs. As Highly Sensitive People. As individuals. As humans. As creative souls who live and breathe and identify and share and grow and touch and feel and respond and love and all the rest of it…the whole messy enchilada.

What amazes me is that I wrote this in 2004, not 2012 after my husband died or 2014 when I began hearing from him. Not all these years after discovering that my HSP-ness was directly related to my psychic and mediumship abilities and being witness to my own growth as an author.

I had to ask myself: If I didn’t know then what I know now, where did the words come from? Was I already channeling, if you want to call it that, my higher self? Had I entered some kind of 5^th-dimensional reality or parallel universe? Had I time traveled?

I really don’t know.

Yet here I sit before you today (well, before my computer writing to you) and feeling every word of this song.

I have lifted the veil of denial

I have lifted the weight of pain

I am becoming the one I’m meant to be

.

The post Fear came wrapped in a package and arrived C.O.D. first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

BREATHE

She sat at the back and they said she was shy,

She led from the front and they hated her pride,

They asked her advice and then questioned her guidance,

They branded her loud, then were shocked by her silence,

When she shared no ambition they said it was sad,

So she told them her dreams and they said she was mad,

They told her they’d listen, then covered their ears,

And gave her a hug while they laughed at her fears,

And she listened to all of it thinking she should,

Be the girl they told her to be best as she could,

But one day she asked what was best for herself,

Instead of trying to please everyone else,

So she walked to the forest and stood with the trees,

She heard the wind whisper and dance with the leaves,

She spoke to the willow, the elm and the pine,

And she told them what she’d been told time after time,

She told them she felt she was never enough,

She was either too little or far far too much,

Too loud or too quiet, too fierce or too weak,

Too wise or too foolish, too bold or too meek,

Then she found a small clearing surrounded by firs,

And she stopped…and she heard what the trees said to her,

And she sat there for hours not wanting to leave,

For the forest said nothing, it just let her breathe.

By: Becky Hemsley

I can relate, Becky Hemsley. I can definitely relate.

I read this poem on Facebook and recognized, as did the person who posted it, how much it reflects the life so many of us have led as High Sensitives (of any gender!).

The image in the post shows a tree (enhanced by an artist, apparently) into the body of a woman stretching upward and outward toward the sky. While some might see the image suggesting a plea of “Why me?” it could also be suggestive of someone reaching to the skies, empowered and alive, and grounded into the earth and a sense of self.

I’ll take Door #2, please.

Today I had a client who arrived to see with with a whole boatload of fear and anxiety. This client is almost 90 years old and has been a teacher and psychotherapist for many years. For a lot of those years she has successfully worked on herself to unravel the emotional issues that seemed to bind her to old ways of thinking about herself and the world, and has helped numerous clients of her own on that journey. That’s why, when she found herself unexpectedly “triggered” bigtime by a situation that came up, she called me.

You see, no matter how much we grow, stretch, and reach for spiritual connection and evolution and the groundedness that goes along with it, we also need to realize that We. Are. Still. Human.

There will always be that part of us—often a deeply subconscious or hidden part—that remembers the way things were in The Past. That great vast valley of old insecurities that arise just at the exact moment we need them to remind us to once again step up to the plate…that it’s time to level up once more on our spiritual path.

Being human also means we cannot, nor should we have to, or feel we have to, go it alone. Healers and light workers and mediums and meditators and caregivers—we all need to connect with others in the community of HSPs when it gets tough to make sure our feet stay planted in the ground on that journey of leveling up.

We may all be human and we may all be individual trees, but we are all one human among other humans and one tree among all the other trees in the forest.

The post Life As An HSP Doesn’t Mean A Life of Going It Alone first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

By far the most common questions I get from HSPs are, “Why can’t I be normal like everyone else?” “Why do I have to be so sensitive?” And “Why can’t other people understand and make it easier for me?”

My answers are simple:

1.  There is no normal.
2.  You are yourself and that’s as normal as it gets.
3.  Once you see your sensitivities as abilities meant to be celebrated, not something to bemoan, you’ll never see life the same way again.

I know, I know. Easier said than done. But not really. Not once you make a small shift in your way of thinking and have a few basic tools.

Let’s look at these beliefs in more detail.

As soon as we start believing that we, as HSPs, are different in a way that makes us vulnerable, we are viewing ourselves as victims. We say we want to be “normal,” but normal is nothing more than deciding we’d be better off not being who we are. We’d be better off being like “other people.” Neither of which is true. The reality is that being highly sensitive can mean a truly wonderful existence. But only if and when we are ready to stop believing that it’s up to other people to be different and do things differently for us. To make us feel better. To make us happier. To make things easier.

We’d all like to live in a world that is willing to accommodate us so we feel comfortable.

As soon as something happens to “make us” uncomfortable, we immediately feel the need—the compulsion—to make the world shift itself around in order for us to remain or revert to our comfortable spot. Feeling

• put out
• unlike yourself
• like a fish out of water
• like something is off…

. . . All these sensations cause such discomfort that we will do just about anything to change how we feel. There’s overindulging, avoiding, distracting, blaming…the list of potential ways to deny the discomfort is endless.

The bottom line

The bottom line, however unfortunate it seems, is this: Our sensitivity may be heightened, but we can never really expect the world to accommodate us.

I have come to realize that it is up to me to learn to be in my own alignment so the world does not “trigger me.” Saying that someone or something “triggers us” is like admitting that we have absolutely no power. That we are at the mercy of other people, whatever circumstances we find ourselves in, and the greater environment.

For years I asked myself, “Do I really want to live like this? I am such a victim of everything and everyone. There has to be a way to change the way I am—without sacrificing my sensitivity. Because my sensitivity is what makes me extra loving, extra generous and kind, extra compassionate, extra creative, extra empathetic, and extraordinary. Basically, just plain extra.”

The answer was NO! Which is why somehow, I had to tap into what would invite me to use all those wonderful traits without being constantly at risk for falling apart.

Yes, the world might feel threatened by the high sensitive’s ability to love and care, but only because, without realizing it, they are feeling the powerful vibration of our love energy. And when people feel threatened, they tend to go into flight or fight mode.

But on my part, there is another possibility for how I respond. I learned that I do not need to protect myself from these people. I don’t need to push against, hope for, change circumstances, wish things were different or people were different. All I have to do is learn to be in alignment with my highest self and love being there. Every day, in every way, over and over and over.

I learned that you don’t need to conquer fear and anxiety, but rather exist in your own state of natural harmony. You don’t need to avoid triggers, but rather not feel triggered in the first place. No matter what has happened in our past.

I have spent years developing tools to help others do the very same thing and without exception, it changes everything. [Check out my posts on the Psychic Octopus (globbing onto other people’s energy); your UES (how to identify and stay in your Unique Energetic Signature); and your IGS (how to confidently and consistently tap into your Intuitive Guidance System.]

“Why can’t people understand that I’m sensitive and that I can’t help it?” Because it’s up to us as HSPs to develop our own sense of what’s normal–and love it.

I’ll say it again. I know it sounds simplistic.

But if I can do it, so can you.

The post Why can’t people understand that I’m sensitive and that I can’t help it? first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

Why is it that the very traits that people envy in some of us HSPs are the same ones they denigrate?

Take creativity, for example. If I’ve heard, “I don’t have a creative bone in my body. You’re so lucky!” once, I’ve heard it a thousand times. Yet there is always an underlying (or perhaps overlying?) sense that what the person is actually saying is, “I would be nice to draw or sing or play an instrument, but all the sensitivities that go along with all that stuff? Faggedaboudit. Not worth it.”

I suppose certain kinds of creativity and sensitivity are inevitably linked, and I suspect that stories about alcoholic, drug-addicted, ear-cutting-off artists and musicians and writers have infused our societal and cultural belief systems around such individuals. At the Getty Museum in Los Angeles a few days ago, as I gazed upon Van Gogh’s irises, it struck me, as it always does, that genius is so often inextricably tied to pain, distress, and self-destruction. It also struck me, as it always does, that it often doesn’t need to be that way.

Where would the world be without music or art? Even more to the point, where would the world be without love? Where would the world be if the high sensitives were revered for their complex, often misunderstood, approach to life? What if, instead of being told to “buck up” and “get it together,” we were offered support through the thoughtful interpretation of our “shyness” or our “weakness” or our “neediness”?

In 2020 in a “Talks at Google,” Alane Freund, LMFT, says, “Highly Sensitive People often think before they act. Even the kindergartner who shows up to school the very first day will stop in the doorway and look around the classroom. ‘What’s over there? Who’s playing over there? Hmm, I smell something. Is there cooking? Am I going to cook?’ … Compared to the kindergartner who just runs in and starts playing with the trucks right away. The teacher might assume that kindergartner who hesitates is shy. But what if the parent says, ‘No, he’s not shy. He just likes to get the lay of the land first.’”

What do you think that child would take from such an interaction?

Labels don’t help

To be labeled “shy” can stigmatize our capabilities and abilities for life, while being labeled “thoughtful” versus “impulsive” or “confident” can help us feel valued for what we bring to the table.

When I think back to the way both my children cried and cried and cried, the way their sleep patterns were constantly changing, and the way their reactions seemed over the top to sound and taste and touch, I wish I’d known then what I know now. Sensory overstimulation is one of the most challenging aspects of being an HSP—if the people around you are attempting to push you, a round peg, into the square hole that is the rest of the world.

Next time someone you know is “confused,” suggest they stop and question what was happening in that moment be

fore their apparent lapse. For me, confusion is simply an indicator that my IGS is kicking in—that my Intuitive Guidance System is pointing me in a direction and I’m not paying attention. It may feel like confusion and look like confusion, but sometimes what looks like a duck and acts like a duck is not really a duck at all.

We can call creativity “sensitivity,” but how about switching our thinking from the assumption that creativity and sensitivity are tied once and forever to some inherent kind of weakness?

For the sake of you, me, and the world.

The post Creativity & the Highly Sensitive Person: What Makes Us Tick? first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.