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!.

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!.

(Or . . . Why can’t I just let go and be in the flow like everyone says I should be?)

When I was growing up, everything bothered me. Everything upset me. Everything made me cry. Everything scared me. Everything was hard.

Now, the word of the day is “trigger.”

“It’s such a trigger for me,” we say. “You’re triggering me.” “You know that triggers me.” “If you know that’s a trigger for me, why don’t you stop doing it/saying it?”

What’s the one thing all these ways we express ourselves have in common? Well, I hate to say it, but it’s that all of them are putting the reason (the blame) for our being triggered on the person, place, or thing that’s getting in the way of our comfort.

• “The scent in here drives me crazy; I hate scented candles.”
• “He knows I hate to be yelled at, so why can’t he learn to lower his voice?”
• “I can’t stand green pepper, so why would they put it in the food?”

  

All of these statements have something else in common, too: They all express significantly low-vibration language, use of which, frankly, probably won’t catapult you into a *high-frequency life.*

Please understand that I’m not complaining about other people’s complaining about their triggers–as such. I’m not saying that we all don’t have valid reasons for having developed our triggers. Things like poor parenting, growing up with abuse, feeling ignored, unloved, unappreciated. We could go on and on. Most of us have at least one or two, if not dozens, of things that draw us in like a spider to a fly. “Come on in, you’ll love it in here.” And then . . . ZAP! You’re caught in the middle of something from which not only does it appear there is no escape but that sends you spiraling into the HSP’s Land of the Lost.

What really matters, though, is that at some point in our lives, we start to look at our triggers as something we have at some point decided we are willing to react to instead of something happening to us that we cannot control.

No, we can’t control someone who decides to yell or put green pepper in our dinner. But we certainly have a say about our reaction to it.

I’ve learned the following:

1. Going around all day talking about the things that trigger me only triggers me more.
2. Using language that has a low frequency like “I hate it when you…” “Why is this happening to me?” “It’s not fair…” “They should know it hurts me…” are all downers. Say them out loud or hear someone else say them and immediately the energy in the room goes south. If and when YOU say it, your own vibration has just crashed.
3. Talking about what triggers me triggers me into finding reasons I’m triggered that justify my reaction.
4. Talking to others about the fact that I was triggered by someone or something feels satisfyingly reassuring.
5. I like being reassured because it feels like someone is responding to my need for understanding or love or support or whatever else I want

If I turn my low-frequency HSP language into high-frequency language, the Land of the Lost turns into the Land of the Found.

Let’s start with the triggering episode.

Trigger: My friend is upset and has been talking to me in a louder-than-usual voice.

Response: I’m immediately back in my childhood being yelled at by my father. I can’t hear anything my friend is saying because all I want to do is run and hide and cry and scream. In the corner.

Reaction: I yell at my friend, “You know that I can’t hear you if you raise your voice to me! You know my father used to yell at me and I hate that. Why are you yelling at me?”

What’s really going on: Deflection, Victimization, Defensiveness, Justification, Avoidance, Blame, and Self-righteousness–not that there’s not a whole lot of hurt in there, too.

What I do differently

Trigger: My friend is upset and has been talking to me in a louder-than-usual voice.

Response: I’m immediately back in my childhood being yelled at by my father. I can’t hear anything my friend is saying because all I want to do is run and hide and cry and scream. In the corner.

Realization: Wow. I’m really out of alignment here. I know what brought it on and I don’t particularly enjoy it, but even if it feels uncomfortable, it’s a huge opportunity to work on pulling in my psychic octopus tentacles and practice my newfound awareness that I have the wherewithal to reflect on what I’m feeling even as I’m feeling it. Even a moment of objectivity in that kind of situation can switch off the “I’m freaking out” and switch on the “Oh, how interesting” switch.

One step back = a giant leap forward.

TIP OF THE DAY:

1. Write a list of 10 things that trigger you.
2. Put a checkmark next to all the ones that feel justified based on your life experience.
3. Now erase them.

The post Why Does Everything In the World Seem To Trigger Me So Much? 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!.

Ugh.  Traveling. It’s one of those love-hate things. You really want to be there, but you really don’t want to have to go through everything it takes to get there. Oh, if only we could beam up like Captain Kirk.

I’ve been in Los Angeles once and by it several times, but it’s never been my destination until now. Suddenly, thinking about how a week from today I’ll be there, in the city of cars and smog and heat and rabid attention to all things superficial, is giving me agita. Like, major agita.  It’s very clear that I am being offered another perfect whopper-tunity to step into conscious awareness. Thanks a lot.

I’m exaggerating to make a point here, of course, but not by much. Traveling and HSPs go together like oil and water: They swim around each other a lot, but try to avoid, and hardly ever manage, to fully engage.

I’ve travelled quite a bit in my life. Short trips from NY to Boston and back on the bus for flute lessons when I was in college. Long, intense flights by air to places like Bali and Europe. Regular jaunts across the country to see family and friends. Yet every single time, my very first reaction to the plan is, “Ugh. Please don’t make me go.”

It’s such an odd feeling, to want to see people and be with them because you love them and miss them, and yet, more than anything else, want to stay cocooned in your own home, your own space, your own comfort zone. I’ve literally gone so outside my comfort zone so many times that there’s a part of me that simply wants to say, “Okay. Been there. Done that. I’m finished.” And this, while the world spins around me with people getting on and off planes coming and going to far-off places with relative ease and grace. Or at least with the attitude that whatever incongruities they might suffer, it’s all worth it.

So, still, the only thing that keeps me going, traveling to places I’ve never been or old haunts of the past, is knowing that I have my HSP tools to save me.

I start by using my IGS. My Intuitive Guidance System firmly in place ensures I make my plans only when it feels right, no matter how/when/if it appears that way to others. Reeling in my psychic octopus ensures I take my own energy with me wherever I go.

Staying in my UES, my Unique Energetic Signature, ensures I don’t need to freak out while thinking about making plans in the future, actually making the plans—the whole online thing, etc.—packing (the what-am-I-going-to-wear thing), transportation, house plans, and so on.

Knowing how to pull in my psychic octopus and zipping myself up inside it as soon as I lock my door and hit the road is the pièce de resistance. It’s what, in the final analysis, makes it all okay. Instead of taking in everything around me and losing my sense of self, I focus as much as possible on my octopus, on my intuitive guidance, and on staying in my own energy.

Yes, it does take focus. But no, it’s not the kind that is a struggle. Because when you stay wrapped in your innate comfort zone you get to take it with you everywhere you go—which is the opposite of difficult. Not only that, it’s what keeps you sane.

If you are an HSP with travel concerns, take it from me. There’s a way to move through the world with a grace you could never have imagined. And, though might not able be to beam up quite yet, we can all learn how to beam in to our higher selves’ to get where we’re going smoothly, easy, and in perfect alignment.

***

Ask The Celestial Professor: Write me with your questions and comments about being an HSP so we can share our exploration and growth and celebration with the world!

***

Private coaching sessions are also available here. Many more musical recordings are available here. Keep an eye out for my new book, soon to be published: Elevating Your HSP-ness: How To Live a High-Frequency Life by Amplifying Your Vibration, Celebrating Your Sensitivities, & Uplifting the World

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.

Thank you for shining your light into the world!

The post HSPs and the Travelin’ Blues of the Psychic Octopus first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

This morning I had a lengthy conversation with a fellow gym rat. Not that I’m much of a rat…more of a mouse, really. But still. Anyway, seems a dear friend of his from the past, someone he’d lost touch with the last few years yet someone he’d appreciated and revered, had died. This guy at the gym, let’s call him Stew, was obviously experiencing sadness, and disappointment in himself for not having stayed in contact because “now it’s too late.”

I’m an HSP with certain abilities, so it’s up to me.

As an intuitive medium, I was already connecting with Stew’s friend “Jim,” seeing him in my mind’s eye as the powerfully built former linebacker I would soon discover he was (from Stew’s later description), and a man with a heart of gold. Although Stew knows that I “talk to dead people,” we’d never gotten into it before during our brief convos passing from Stairmaster to elliptical. You know, friendly at the gym, but not that friendly. His discomfort (okay, fine, skepticism), apparent by the immediate sliding away of the eyes whenever the topic of my “work” came up, was clear enough. And, since I wasn’t there to disturb his chi or anything, I’d always let it go. But now, Stew had tears in his eyes and I wanted to help. Jim was asking me to help.

Should you share the messages you get? Share what you know, feel, see, hear?

I figured, well, what the heck. Spirit never steers me wrong. I had nothing to lose. Oh so gently I posited to Stew that it might help to know that Jim was feeling pretty good on the Other Side, at ease. That he knows his family misses him, but his death was what he chose because it was easier for everyone than it would have been had he hung around any longer—that a long illness toward death would have been even more painful for everyone. Jim was suggesting that Stew might want to think about writing a note to Jim’s wife to express Stew’s love for this kind-hearted man who thought as highly of Stew as Stew did of him.

Spirit will never guide you wrong.

This afternoon as I sit at my desk waiting for a client to arrive, I keep thinking about Stew and Jim and about the delicate space that exists around sharing when you aren’t at all sure how your sharing will be received. When my phone pinged I was a little surprised to see a text from Stew. We aren’t texting buddies, and in fact had never exchanged more than phone numbers. Still, I felt as if I’d been waiting for the message. Attached were two images, one of Jim as a young sportsman and one of him a couple of years prior to his recent passing. Stew, without admitting to any kind of belief around Spirit, had found a way to let me know, and let Jim know, that connecting with me had connected him to Jim…and that the connection had transmuted some of the ache he’d been holding due to his own guilt over letting the friendship fall by the wayside into a less troubled space. And Spirit, in this case, Jim, was assuring me I’d done the right thing by speaking up with love in my heart.

Miracle or not?

I call this a mini-miracle. I know, I know. Many might, even reasonably, disagree. I mean, what’s so miraculous about someone who absolutely positively doesn’t believe in “stuff like that” feeling potentially comforted by something someone like me or you says? Someone who, just perhaps, understands loss, death, dying, and matters of Spirit and is willing to express that in a moment of need? I’ll tell you.

Turns out, like with everything else, it’s all a matter of perspective. I never saw miracles in my life because I didn’t believe in them. I didn’t believe in them because I had a definition of what they were that couldn’t possibly be supported by “real life.” I also had a long history of hiding what I saw, felt, heard, sensed, knew, and believed when it might have rocked the proverbial boat of reason.

The thing is that keeping quiet is no longer an option. I want to share the loving messages I receive.

• I want to express my truth.
• I want to be authentic.
• I want to feel relaxed and in alignment.

None of which I can do or be if I’m hiding who I am. An HSP, a Highly Sensitive Person, and a person with unique talents and abilities to share.

What are you hiding that is begging to come out of the closet?

The post Coming Out of the HSP Closet first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

HSPs & the Red Coat: Part 1

When something feels like yours, isn’t it yours? Remember the Bible story of “Joseph and the Coat of Many Colors”? In a nutshell, Joseph, his father’s favorite son, was gifted a magnificent coat, which made his brothers jealous. So jealous that they hatched a plot to sell him into slavery for 20 pieces of silver. In Egypt, Joseph’s his gift for telling the future helped him turn his fortunes. Let’s take a look at what happens when you’re around “someone else’s coat.”

HSPs & the Red Coat Questions:

• Is your “coat” like Joseph’s?
• Is it really yours?
• Does it really have your UES, your Unique Energetic Signature?

We’ve been talking about your Psychic Octopus for a while now, and have started to get into the nitty-gritty of how to apply that life-altering tool with the last couple of posts on your Psychic Sponge (Energetic Sponge). But which comes first, the chicken or the egg?

In other words, “wringing out” sponge energy that you may have soaked up from your environment is a great thing, but until you recognize you’ve taken it on, there’s not much you can do about it. Which brings us to the next critical bit of information to ensure your roadmap to amplifying your vibration and celebrating your sensitivities takes you where you want to go!

* * * * * 

Present Day

You’ve just arrived for dinner at your favorite restaurant, a small, intimate place you’ve been going to for years. You’re wearing your favorite coat, the one you wear as often as weather permits. It’s red, with a velvet collar. It fits you to a T. It’s comfortable and luxurious at the same time, which isn’t the case with too many clothes, so when you wear it you feel fantastic. You especially love that the pockets are nice and deep so you can store things like your wallet and cell phone. When you wear it you couldn’t possibly feel more like you.

Anyway, there you are at the restaurant. You remove your special coat and hand it to the waiter who’s been there forever and knows you by name. You ask for Guido’s family and he asks for yours. He takes your coat to the coat room for safekeeping.

You have a meal that’s as tasty as ever (probably eggplant parm) and are ready to leave. Guido brings you your gorg red coat and helps you into it. It’s begun to snow outside and you are glad for its warmth as you pass through the door to walk home.

3 Months Later: Whose Coat Is It???

Your phone rings. It’s an unidentified number, so you let it go to voicemail and forget about it for a couple of days. When the same number calls through again, you’re distracted and pick it up automatically and say hello. The voice on the other end of the phone sounds hesitant.

“Um, I know this will sound strange,” says the voice, “but I really think you have my coat.”

“Um, I know this will sound strange,” the voice goes on, “but I really think you have my coat.”

You look at the phone, shocked. What is this person talking about? “What do you mean, I have your coat?” you repeat. “What are you talking about?”

“I know,” the voice says again, “it sounds crazy. But you were at Antonio’s Ristorante three months ago, right?”

“Well, yes,” you say slowly, thinking back, “but how did you know that? Who are you? What do you want?” You’re beginning to get suspicious.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad,” continues the voice. “It’s just that I really think you went home with my coat . . . and I went home with yours.”

“That’s impossible,” you say.

“Nooo, I don’t think so,” says the voice, irritatingly self-assured.

“I have that coat right here with me,” you say, well on the way to peeved. “It can’t possibly be yours. It’s my red coat with the black velvet collar. It fits me perfectly. I love this coat. I’ve had it for a long time and I’d know if it weren’t mine.”

“I’m really sorry,” says the voice once again, not really sounding sorry at all, “it’s just that if you look in the pocket you’ll find something I left in the pocket that’s really special to me. I thought I’d lost it, but then, when I was at Antonio’s last night, Guido thought I was you at first, that there was another customer who always wore the same red coat. That’s when I realized we’d probably walked off with the wrong coats.”

You can’t believe it. It’s ridiculous. It doesn’t make sense.

You can’t believe it. It’s ridiculous. It doesn’t make sense. How could something that feels so right not belong to you? You’ve worn it forever; wouldn’t you know if it was not yours? Wouldn’t you know by its feel or its smell? Still, you hesitate. Finally, you say, “Okay, so what you’re saying is that you left something in the pocket that you want back, right?”

“That’s right,” says the voice. “Can you check for me?”

You sigh. This really feels like a very strange conversation. Although you are still not willing to admit the coat is not yours, if it were you, you know you’d want your coat back—or at least the thing in the coat that you thought you’d lost, so you slowly stick your hand in the left pocket and feel around. You remove a used tissue, a receipt, and a mint, but nothing else. You turn to the other pocket and, still feeling stupid, stick your hand in. Out comes another tissue and a stick of lip balm. You don’t feel much else. You’re relieved, much more relieved that you think the circumstances warrant, and you don’t know why.

“Nope, there’s nothing here,” you say, sounding a bit smug.

The voice sounds small this time. “Please,” it says, “could you check just once more? It’s really small, so it often slips way down into the corner of the pocket. It’s a little metal coin of an angel that my father gave me when I was little and before he died. It means a lot to me.”

You sigh an even bigger sign, but agree to check again when you hear the catch in their voice. This time, you make sure to delve deep down in the corner where you feel something that catches you up short. Sure enough, there’s something there, something small and thin and round. You almost don’t want to remove your hand to see what it is. Somehow you know this is the angel coin this person has lost.

Which is when the moment you realize that, if the coin in the pocket belongs to someone else, so does your coat. That it’s not your coat at all.

2 Days Later

You have just exchanged coats with the person who called you on the phone. You met at Antonio’s, which seemed appropriate. You looked at each other and took each other in. You’re about the same size, and have the same hair color, but other than that, you are not the same at all. When you offer back the angel coin to this person, you feel both uncomfortable and relieved. You cannot believe that all this time you were wearing a coat that you were convinced was yours, but belonged to someone else. You are thanked many times over by the person whose coat you were wearing and who was wearing your coat before they leave.

This is when you ask yourself the following questions:

• If wearing someone else’s coat can feel so right, can feel as if it’s mine without a shadow of a doubt, then what else could be going on here?
• What else am I believing is “mine” that really belongs to someone else?
• How do I know if/when I’m in my own Unique Energetic Signature or diddling around in someone else’s?
• What about all the feelings I feel and the thoughts that come into my head unbidden?
• When I feel sad or angry or upset, are those feelings really mine?
• Because if they’re not mine, I don’t really want them.
• If I know I don’t want them, how do I give them back—or not accept them at all?

These are questions you have never asked before, but realize in this moment of life-shattering brilliance that they could change your life.

* * * * * 

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2 of “HSPs and the Red Coat.”

The post Your you feel what you feel, they’re your feelings…right? first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

Part 1

We’ve talked about the Psychic Octopus. The Psychic Sponge is really the precursor to that whole topic.

I love the analogy of the Psychic Sponge because it’s so easy to visualize and understand. Particularly for all of us good ol’ HSPs looking for transformative tools and techniques. No! Not to transform into someone different. To transform into who we really are!

You’ve got to start somewhere, right? Well, the psychic sponge is the perfect place.

Transformation starts with transference and transcendence. Today we’re hitting up the “transference” part of the equation.

As you know, being an HSP makes you seem/feel different from a lot of other people. At least that’s what they’d like you to think. More people are highly sensitive than anyone realizes because so many of us try—and often manage—to hide it so well behind their shields of logic. We hide our fears, our loneliness, our anxiety, our worry, our feelings of overwhelm, and our generalized belief that we’re simultaneously too much and not enough, whatever the context. In my world, even scientists, statisticians, and engineers, and those who stress objectivity and facts are not capable of separating out their human natures from their work. In fact, from what I’ve seen, these people are often on the HSP spectrum . . . big time!

Ever notice their tendency toward antisocial behavior, bluntness, abruptness, isolation, lack of empathy? It may not look like our own specific HSP-isms, but they are just as powerful in the effect they have. Because the more discomfort experienced, the more shutting down occurs. Work in the lab alone all day instead of visiting with friends? Easy choice! Focus on what I do best rather than feel constantly out of place? Why bother asking!

No matter who you are or what you do, your level of discomfort starts and ends with the level of discomfort or comfort you have within yourself. But it also has to do with the discomfort that comes from being a psychic sponge.

“AAARRRGGGHHH! Not that word!”

I know, I know. If you’re an engineer or a scientist, you’re not gonna like my use of the word “psychic.” Even if you admit to sensitivity, you’re might be squirming in your seat at the use of a word that yells out “Whacko! Occult! Stop now! Don’t take another step forward!” So, for now, let’s just call it an Energetic Sponge instead.

Which simply means that, again, no matter who you are or what you do, you pick up signals from the world around you. You can try to ignore them, resist them, shut them out, but you still have to engage with them, whether you’re in traffic or on the telephone ordering a pizza. Your experience will always include the outpouring of energetic data supplied by whatever and whoever is in your field of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

Trying too hard is just more resistance–and isn’t worth it.

My suggestion? Stop trying. Instead, work it. Play with it. Stop resisting it. Use it to create a whole new range of colors on your palette of life. Just as you might have played with Play-Doh when you were in nursery school. (I know, awesome stuff, smelled crazy good.)

Here’s what you do.

• Step 1. First, go get a dry sponge and put it down in front of you. (Note: you probably want to do this by the sink.) Notice how dry it is, how hard it might be around the edges, perhaps how it’s shrunken a bit because it’s so dry. This sponge can be any kind, shape, any size. The only thing that matters is that it’s dry.
• Step 2. Next, get a bowl of water. Drop the sponge in the water. Watch  as it slowly comes alive. How it soaks up the water in the bowl, grows bigger with the moisture, and bigger still, until it can’t absorb any more because it’s so full.
• Step 3. Take the sponge out of the water. It’s dripping, right? It can’t hold all that water so, now that it’s out of the bowl, it’s dripping everywhere. (Hence, standing over your sink, as advised.)
• Step 4. Now, slowly wring out the sponge. Wring it and wring it until you’ve gotten as much moisture as possible out of it. The sponge is still damp, right? It’s still the size it always is when wet, a noticeably  different size from when it’s dry.
• Step 5. This is the really important one. See yourself as the sponge. A sponge that was all nice and comfy sitting alone with your book and waiting for your pizza to arrive. And then, suddenly, 20 people burst into the room with beer and pizza and noise and confusion and laughter and…and…and….

Not helpful. Your good ol’ HSP sponge-body has now gone from damply comfortable to miserable flooded by all the energies that have entered your space. You panic. You leave. Without your beer, without your pizza, but hoping you’ve escaped with your sanity somewhat intact.

**** TO BE CONTINUED! STAY TUNED for Part 2 of HSPs and the Psychic Sponge: Transcendence ****

Don’t worry, I’m only gonna leave you hanging until tomorrow when I’ll be talking about how fantastic it is to know you’re an Energetic Sponge and how it’s easy to something about it. Something that will inevitably change the way you see yourself and handle your interaction with the world.

The post The technique HSPs need to wring out their psychic sponge first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

How do you become who you are? I’ve asked myself this question many times through the years, mostly because I’m so surprised at where I keep “ending up.” Especially since we all know that there is no “ending” until . . . well, there is.

No matter the length of the retrospective, it can be illuminating as a catalyst in moving forward. From the perspective of where I am now, I can understand a lot about how I got here. I grew up in an atmosphere of education and learning, equaled only by the ever-present churning inside me to comprehend the universe in a way that made sense. What a paradox it was! How do you live your life as a human when you feel like an alien species deposited in a strange land? When you’re sure you were left only with a wave and a vague suggestion to figure it out for yourself until the time comes for you to depart.

Low-functioning HSP-ism

I stumbled along. Sometimes severely low-functioning; often appearing high-functioning . . . the consummate HSP. That Highly Sensitive Person who felt everything 1000 times more than anyone else, could not understand the way the world worked or people behaved, or the way I was supposed to behave in it. A fish permanently out of water, gasping for breath every step of the way just to stay alive and moving from one day to the next, one crisis to the next.

The common traits of HSP-ism

I felt terrified, abused, ignored, overwhelmed. Over-protected, indulged, and loved–somewhat conditionally— based on my current level of handling whatever it was I was supposed to be handling. I was disillusioned by the world, but knew it was all my fault; blamed myself for being crazy, over-emotional, “too much.” I prayed to be understood, to feel accepted, yet only felt discouraged and unworthy. My life was guided by standards of achievement, which were expected to be met no matter the topic or goal. Loving intention in my environment, admittedly no small thing, could never be enough to mitigate how adrift I felt in my life.

Who were all these people around me who were so confident? How did they get that way? Why did I feel like crying all the damn time? What did they know that I didn’t know?

Death changes everything

Honestly, it was not until my husband Randy transitioned in 2012 that my life took the dramatic turn it apparently needed to clear the way for a true awakening. All the usual challenges—how to live without a beloved spouse, how to go about daily life when suddenly you are one, not a partnership of two, and so on—were enormous, yet it led to the emergent, deep-seated revelatory truth I’d been waiting for.

• Sure, I’d gone to Harvard University, yet never really understood how I got there or how I managed to graduate.
• Sure, I’d raised two children, much of the time as a single parent, yet felt terminally inadequate.
• Sure, I’d worked in some capacity for all these years—as a professional flautist, corporate trainer, counselor, medical transcriptionist, and longtime editor the owner of Harvard Girl Word Services—yet felt supremely unworthy of my own accomplishments.

The dark, dark night of the soul

Now, without my husband at my side, it was time to take a good, hard, long look at who I’d become—or hadn’t. I was 50+ years older, yet the same anxiety-ridden, prone-to-depression, fear-filled, tired person I had always been. Sometimes happier, sometimes sadder, sometimes more productive, sometimes less. But always, always, unsure of myself, my place in the world, my purpose.

On becoming high-functioning

High Sensitives like me—like us—can be really good at what we do. The thing is, we can be so filled with misgiving that we would rather stay anonymously in the background than stand out in the limelight. For example, I was happier to be praised for “channeling the messages” of others through writing than write material of my own—to put my name on the cover. To stay safe in a world where too much attention meant taking responsibility for the attention I might receive. The deep desire to be “seen” never surpasses our deeper need to stay hidden. Being discovered means being known for the fearful mess we can feel we are and are ashamed to be.

If any of this resonates with you, please know that the way ahead for you can be very different. You don’t have to wait until you’re 30 or 40 or 50 (the way I did) to feel inspired to live, and capable of living, a beautiful life.

What’s  your journey?

Of course, my journey is not yours. Writing a book with your dead husband after he’s transitioned about forming a relationship with those on the other side of the veil may not be in the stars for you. The only reason I am here now communicating with you, the HSPs of the world, is to share that you are so much more than you give yourself credit for. You have so much more to offer the world than the world might acknowledge. Your talents and abilities are not only valid and valuable, but the very talents and abilities that keep the world in balance, keep it from going over to the dark side, and are the saving grace of all humanity.

Sure, it’s a big statement, but I stand behind it.

Tools & techniques for the HSPs of the world–for YOU!

With the incredible realizations and tools and techniques I have acquired along the way, however, I am no longer that person. The kernel of who I was remains, but instead of rotting away from neglect, it has happily blossomed into something, someone, authentic and alive and full of life.

No, it doesn’t always happen all at once. It was more like the unraveling of a slow-moving epiphany than a Big Bang. Like the psychic octopus: Learning that Heidi hadn’t really existed at all, just the energy of other people who’d been invited in to take residence in her mind, body, and spirit.

Like the UES: Learning that I had a Unique Energetic Signature all my own—that all I had to do was identify it, feel it, know it . . . live in it.

That’s what I’m here to share with you. The ideas in Elevating Your HSP-ness will knock your socks off. They will change your life. They will support you through thick and thin. They will really, really, REALLY shift the way you see yourself and the world. They will invite you to realize that you are, and have always been, perfect and perfectly positioned to shine a light in a world that needs it more than ever. A combination of all I have learned and been in my life—the “professorial” element—and all I have ever experienced spiritually and emotionally—that has integrated into an identity I could never have imagined, into who I am today.

This bit of music from my healing guided collection should help you do the same.

The post When you feel lost, don’t give up. It’s the time for a change. first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.

2012: Angels and Pepperoni Pizza

“I ordered the pepperoni and onion pizza,” said my husband a few weeks prior to his passing and after one of his longer and longer rests in his big armchair. “I saw myself at this place called the Gateway Café. I was told that it’s the place where all beings–spirits–angels–hang out to choose where they’re going to go and who they’re going to be their next time around as humans. You get to decide your next lifetime just like ordering off a menu.”

“Wow,” I said. “But I’m thinking coming back might not be a choice I’d make. I mean, it’s been pretty rocky this time.”

“Exactly,” he said. “They told me we’re really all vacationing angels—spirit that wants to experience being human. As energetic beings, the idea of being human, mortal beings in biodegradable human suits with all the magnificent senses we enjoy, it feels like a vacation.”

I thought about it. Here my husband is dying and talking about how being human is supposed to feel like a vacation. Although I dutifully jotted down a few notes in the notebook we were keeping of his ideas, the only thing I heard in my head was, “If this were really a vacation, we’d both be having a lot more fun—and, oh, BTW, you wouldn’t be dying.”

I kept that part to myself.

12 Years Later

There was a lot of grieving from then to now. A lot of life and living packed into what felt like at first more like an endlessly scorched spiritual terrain until the rains came and there was verdant abundance once again. I’ve learned about living alone and living without a partner. I’ve experienced the massive benefits of self-discovery through meditation. Learned what it really means to live as a high-functioning HSP without denigrating my sensitivities; learning to view them as gifts and talents.  But most importantly, I’ve learned what it truly means to live as a “vacationing angel.”

This philosophy has stood by me through thick and thin since Randy’s passing. Sure, it took a while. “Vacation” isn’t usually the first word you think of when someone dies and you can barely climb out of bed every day. Yet, with his ongoing prodding and poking, and my continued efforts at listening to him from the other side of the veil, the message began to make more and more sense.

Here’s the way my reasoning went.

For many years the only real thoughts swimming around in my head sounded like this: “What’s the point? What’s the purpose of being human?  What’s MY purpose for being here?” Not reassured by the obvious dearth of answers, I continued along a path where nothing—nothing—made any sense. It wasn’t until I began reading books like Conversations with God that my eyes opened. Suddenly, there was another option for looking at life, death, and being-ness. Another option for living with purpose that included more than a decision about which career path to follow.

Embracing (remembering, one might say) the idea that we have all made our contracts before we live our first, second, or thousandth human lifetime opened the door to a whole new world. If I agreed to the contracts with my mother, my father, my sisters, my friends, then how could I be angry at them or disappointed in them or blame them for anything?

My contract = My responsibility.

It’s as simple as that. Navigating that lifetime’s contract, however, can be pretty darn challenging if/when/because we tend to get stuck in the “why” of it all.

“I am a Vacationing Angel, spirit in human form.

I chose, and choose, to be here.

I will make the most of it while I’m here.”

If we are all one, then . . .

It’s all about life, death, angels, & pepperoni pizza

If I accept that we are all one energetically, which I do, then when we “die,” we simply take on a different energetic frequency and state, the way heated water turns to steam. We’re still here, but in a different form. I have always believed that when we’re in that different form—in the non-physical—so, why not imagine we’re somewhere like the Gateway Café? Some place where we have and hold an awareness that goes beyond the physical and yet offers us an outline for the physical world we choose? Some place where we have and hold a sense of selflessness along with self-full-ness that propels us to enter the physical realm for another lifetime?

The post What do HSPs, angels, & pepperoni pizza all have in common? first appeared on Elevate Your HSP-ness!.