Highly Sensitive = My Superpower

The best artists tend to be the ones with the most sensitive antennae to draw in the energy resonating at a particular moment. ~ Rick Rubin

The early days of my recovery was a practice in patience and faith.  I felt like I was out in the world without skin.  Raw, exposed, vulnerable, fragile. I counted hours.  Then I counted days. This went on for weeks.  Weeks turned into months.

I remember exactly where I was when I listened to Alanis Morissette on a podcast describing, in detail, what it meant to live as a highly sensitive person (HSP).  I was barely past the 90 day marker, and it arrived like a much needed life raft.  She described how this deep sensitivity allows her to connect with people, channel emotions into her songwriting, and experience life in a profoundly rich way. However, it also means she feels emotions, both her own and others’, very intensely, which can be overwhelming.  She shared how this sensitivity contributed to struggles with anxiety, depression, and addiction.  Being in the world as an HSP just has another level of intensity that other people don’t experience.  Hence the need to numb with substances, and the propensity towards a deterioration in mental health.

Her message felt specific to me, giving me language and context for something I had subtly sensed my entire life but never came close to understanding. It was a moment of overwhelming clarity that was especially helpful in those fragile early days of sobriety.  I had heard the term “highly sensitive person” before, but I guess I just wasn’t in a place to absorb the information.  And I wasn’t able to see myself that clearly, anyway, in the haze of my addiction. But that moment was a gift as I desperately clung to anything that would help me understand how addiction had woven itself into my story. As she detailed her life experience as an HSP, I recognized the parts of myself I had spent so long trying to suppress.  My deep emotions, my tendency to absorb the energy of those around me, my sensitivity to the world.  I started to connect the dots to how all this had played a role in my addiction.

The connection between high sensitivity and addiction is well-documented. Research shows that HSP’s have more reactive nervous systems, meaning they experience stress and emotional pain more intensely. This heightened sensitivity can increase the risk of substance abuse as a means of self-medication. Dopamine, the brain’s pleasure chemical, plays a major role in addiction, and HSP’s often seek ways to regulate their overwhelming emotions through external means, whether through alcohol, drugs, or even compulsive behaviors like gambling, shopping or overeating.

I was living as though this sensitivity was a weakness to manage. And I used alcohol to soothe my more reactive system in the form of numbing it. Vodka took the edge off, regulated my nervous system (albeit problematically, and short lived),  made the world feel a little less sharp, a little less painful. But in recovery I was learning that by numbing the pain, I also numbed my joy, my creativity, my intuition, and my ability to truly connect.

I am a Gen X woman, which means Jagged Little Pill was the soundtrack to my coming of age story.  But as much as her music impacted me in my younger years, her opening up about her own personal experience had an even greater impact on me because it changed my perspective in a much needed way in a critical moment in my life.  My sensitivity wasn’t something to dull, it was something to understand and work with.  It could even be a superpower if I used it correctly. I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t weak. I just have an extra sharp sensitivity chip. And instead of running from it, I needed to find ways to protect, nurture and perhaps utilize it.

A few years before this realization, I just happened to have made the decision to not attend live music anymore.  Live music is too loud and the whole experience is unbearable for me.  I kept going because people love live music, so should I! (Beware the toxic “should”) But I finally got honest with myself, said enough is enough, and started to decline invitations even when people looked at me like I had lobsters coming out of my ears.  Or told me I was getting old.  Or thought I was a fun hater.

But this is exactly the model of how to take care of yourself as an HSP. Bright lights feel like daggers to your eyes, loud noises are unbearable, and crowded places are draining. It’s common to absorb other people’s emotions like a sponge, to get overwhelmed by too much stimulation, to have a deep inner world that others don’t always understand.  Certain movies or songs easily evoke emotion and have the ability to impact you so deeply you think about them for days.  You might need a lot of alone time to recharge. Criticism and conflict affect you more than they seem to affect others. And horror movies - hard pass.  I’m not a fun hater, just an HSP and an Enneagram 4.

Being highly sensitive in a world that values toughness and resilience can feel like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.  But numbing steals the beauty and gifts of being highly sensitive. It shuts down our ability to experience deep joy, connection, and creativity. So instead of denying it, I am learning how to embrace my sensitivity.

Instead of suppressing my emotions, I started learning how to navigate, even celebrate them.  But at the very least, I need to acknowledge when I’m getting flooded by them. Setting boundaries is huge, giving myself permission to step away from overstimulating situations is a must, and embracing the things that make me feel whole.  I feel my best in quiet, calm places free of chaos (this! after 30 years of working in restaurants, bars, and hair salons).  I’ve found time in nature recharges me. I stopped feeling guilty for needing alone time. I stopped pushing myself to fit into environments that weren’t designed for me. If I need rest, I take it. If I need space, I claim it.  More than I used to, anyway!!

Sobriety eventually stopped feeling like deprivation and started feeling like freedom. Because over time it evolved from just quitting something into reclaiming parts of myself.  There are many aspects that contributed to my addiction, and this understanding of myself is just one of them. I can see how much of my life has been shaped by my sensitivity, both the struggles and the gifts. And as I continue in my recovery, I do so with a deeper understanding of who I am.

Being highly sensitive is not a liability, it’s a superpower.  What we’re experiencing in the collective now needs people who feel deeply, who see beyond the surface, who bring kindness and understanding into spaces where it’s lacking. If any of this resonates with you, give yourself permission to take care of yourself, honor your sensitivity, and see it as a specialized antennae instead of the thing that holds you back or makes you a fun hater.