How I Learned to Love Myself as a Highly Sensitive Person

Sitting in the car in traffic with my husband is often excruciating. Suddenly the radio is just the slightest bit too loud and the air is blowing too hard. Oh wait, now it’s hot. I’m hot and I must get out of this inferno, stat. I’m simultaneously about to cuss and getting super nauseated, so I stick my head out of the window. While I’m shaking my head out the window like a mannerless dog, I remember the fight I encountered earlier in the day…And I feel so sad. I stop talking to my spouse and just think. Think, think, think about how sad it is that they were fighting and how I would have felt if I was them. And then my husband says something to me and I snap, like a teenager would verbally bitch-slap their mom after being asked for the thirtieth time, “When will you be home later, dear?”

And then I realize…oh, I am feeling really overstimulated. And I breathe. And occasionally alternately squeeze both of my arms like I’m giving myself tiny little repeated hugs, because my therapist told me it would help me calm down. And then I start feeling sane again and less like the mannerless dog and bitch-slapping teenager that abducted my heart for a moment.

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This article was originally published on The Huffington Post

and was republished on Introvert, Dear on July 5, 2016.