Highly Sensitive Person: Blessing or Curse?

I am a highly sensitive person.

This is a topic I have wanted to write about for awhile, but never could think of the right way to do it. You see, we HSPs are always thinking about what is "right." And until we connect those dots, seemingly nothing happens.

The truth is, though, with HSPs, something is always happening. We are emotion sensors, both of our own feelings and those of others. We absorb atmospheres and moods. The exhaustion this takes makes me sometimes wonder if I would be better off without it: is the HSP trait a curse?

I don't have a lot of close friends. There are several reasons for this, but perhaps being an HSP is one of these reasons. I am unable to be comfortable at a loud, crowded party. Social interactions drain me quickly. While I have many things I think about, I have a hard time verbalizing them, as they appear to me as emotional flashes, vivid images. My experience often contains no words.

I know that being an HSP is why I was drawn to music. An emotionally saturated, over-thought life was difficult to process as it was. I often feel disconnected from my own body as I get lost in the world of thought. Music and running called to me. As I immersed myself into these activities, I felt more alive. However, the chasm between myself and what I considered to be the "normal person" continued to widen. I was awakening who I was inside, but others found it difficult to understand me.

I have seen many posts circling Facebook titled things like "20 Facts About Highly Sensitive People," or "10 Reasons Why Being Highly Sensitive Is Great." (I totally made those titles up, but something to the effect...) These posts highlighted all the wonderful things about being highly sensitive, like depth of emotion, being able to relate to others' feelings, etc., but often left out how isolating being an HSP can be. I often feel like I am alone in this profound experience while the world hurries and misses what I see. It can be very lonely.

However, I also know that being an HSP can be a gift. The friends I do have tend to be others that the world doesn't understand. I do not actively seek these people out, as I am friendly to all, but the people I end up keeping as close friends are others who are different, who need to be understood in depth. And it is this ability to relate to people that I hope will help me have a long and satisfying career as a teacher.

Only HSPs can understand why having this trait can sometimes feel like a curse. We want to be able to have a "normal" day sometimes. But, this sensitivity gives us the special ability to step into the emotional content of others and respond with great empathy. Helping others makes it worth it.

What Now?

In October, I sat down to write out my thoughts.  I didn't know what I was meant to do with my career, but I did know that when I thought about applying for a doctorate degree, something felt wrong.

I wrote a blog post called "Why I'm Not Getting My Doctorate [Yet]." I never published it. My intuition was starting to tell me that a break from school was needed, but I wanted to be sure. I took the auditions anyway.

I learned a lot from these auditions. I walked around New York City for the first time. It amazes me that the flute has taken me from rural Nebraska to so many amazing places.

I got into school. Yet, I still had this weight on my spirit, telling me now is not the time. I wasn't ready to commit to a terminal degree. I declined.

The DMA track isn't the path for me right now. It might be in a couple years (time will tell). I have had to look inside myself to see what is the path for me to follow. What do I want out of my career in music?

1) to help others learn and inspire them as people
2) to keep improving at the things I love to do
3) to stay true to my personality

I have been practicing orchestra excerpts for an audition. Usually, I am very motivated by opportunities that pass my way and work my way toward them. However, this time has been different. I've been struggling to get myself to practice them. I have had tension in my body. What is the cause of this mental and physical discomfort?

I believe that as humans, we are interconnected beings. The mental, physical, and spiritual are intertwined. If one is out of balance, the rest will follow. The fact that I am mentally unfocused and physically tired shows that my spirit is also imbalanced.

I stop to look inside of myself. I feel the same kind of weight I did back in October. Preparing for this audition isn't right. What is?

The answer to this question is to be determined. I have theories. Perhaps I am tired and just this audition isn't for me. Maybe pursuing a career in a professional ensemble isn't for me at all.

I have a bigger theory. The heaviest weight I feel is this expectation to be this great, impressive musician, to make people proud and happy. The approval weight, this need for a "good job, well done," is what really needs to be lifted. It is what blocks me from becoming the musician I want to be, not what I perceive others think I should be.

Music is a journey of self-exploration. I have discovered so much about myself as a person by studying music - what my weaknesses are, and strengths I didn't even know I had. I want to help others find this joy and to let my music breathe. I need to rediscover music,  to lift a pressuring weight off my shoulders and discover where my role fits.

I am a believer in the idea that everything in the universe has purpose. We all are being led somewhere of importance, a place where we can best influence and impact the world. I believe my purpose right now is to stay here in Oklahoma, to help and inspire the people right where I am.

Practicing is Not Magic

 Problem-solving practice. It seems so simple, right? The process is to figure out what is wrong and systematically determine a solution to fix it. Like a carpenter, a problem-solving practicer takes his time to consult the blueprint, choose the best materials, carefully put the materials in the correct locations, and then build. The project slowly but surely becomes "constructed" into a finished product.

Yet, how easy it is to fall into the trap of the more obsessive compulsive method of playing a passage, playing it again, playing it again....somehow hoping you will magically become a better flute player or learn it correctly. Unfortunately, I have not met any wizards.

"It isn't right! Let me play it again, and again, and again. Maybe if I play all of it slower, it will work? No? Let me find a magic wand..."

I will admit I have often fallen in the second group. Even as a graduate student, I still frequently fall back on old habits of this "wizard" practice, which is always (in my case) related to future thinking stress.

"What if I don't learn this on time?! This still isn't right? Maybe I'm just not good enough."

This method often sets me back. Imagine if the head of a construction project decided to rush through the building process without problem-solving. His building might not stand very well.

I think the reason why slow, methodical practice is difficult for many is because of the stress of school, deadlines, auditions, etc. We forward think to the product and forget the process, ignoring the fact that

WITHOUT THE PROCESS, THERE IS NO PRODUCT.

For example, I was frustrated the other day because my scale exercise that I've been working on for years wasn't even. I started getting angry about it: "I've been playing this for years...why is this wrong?!" That thinking only led to more tension and unevenness.

A flute friend knocked on my practice room door. I started talking through the problem with her, and in the process of verbalizing the problem, I ended up discovering a solution before she left. It turned out that I had the metronome clicking away at every beat, which was making me over-think about the evenness of technique. Setting the metronome at half-speed (clicking once every two beats) allowed my arms to relax and me to think about line more than beat.

The problem ended up being not what I thought it was (lack of coordination in my fingers). It was something completely different (focusing too much on the beat instead of line). If I hadn't stopped to talk it out, I would have continued drilling away, practicing tension with a too-fast metronome click.

My over-active brain struggles with stepping away to solve problems. But I know I am not alone, as I often hear sighs of exasperation coming out of practice rooms. My goal is to play less and problem solve more - that's right, I said play less, problem solve more. Stopping to assess the problem leads to quicker solutions and less "woodshedding."

Honestly, we all have to go through the phase in which we struggle with XYZ before XYZ can be easy. We have to be amateurs before professionals. The area in the middle is perhaps more important than the arrival at the end, for if we don't build a bridge over the roadblocks in learning, we will never reach the end goal.

Added note: Do we ever really "arrive" anyway? The bridge we build from A to B is never completely finished. There's always something to learn!

Will you join me in this lifelong goal toward more joyful practicing? 

P.S. Let me know if any of you find that magic wand.