Highly Sensitive

A reflection on why I do not want to go out

During a recent game of “Would you Rather” Jeff asked if I would rather attend a music festival or a week long Christian cruise. I thought for barely a moment before picking the cruise. Not because I’m deeply faithful, but because that option seemed better than attending a music festival. For me, a music festival would be one of the worst places to find myself. Not because I hate music, or fun, or parties, but because I simply do not function well in loud, crowded, overly stimulating places.

And by not function well I mean: Be barely holding back a panic attack.

I do not think people really understand what it is like for me in these situations, so I decided to try and explain it. I am a Highly Sensitive Person. I know, I know. Groan. It sounds like “I’m an empath” or “sorry, I’m just a Leo!” or some other excuse. But the traits of Highly Sensitive People I read in Susan Cain’s book Quiet was the first time I felt seen and understood. She lists the following:

Highly sensitive people tend to be keen observers who look before they leap…They’re often sensitive to sights, sounds, smells, pain, coffee…Highly sensitive people also process information about their environments -both physical and emotional -unusually deeply. They tend to notice subtleties that others miss - another person’s shift in mood, say, or a lightbulb burning a touch too brightly.”

Yes, yes, yes. I cannot drink regular coffee without an extreme reaction. I notice the moment a restaurant dims their lights for dinner service. Despite running hundreds of miles, a small splinter will take all of my focus. I’ve been teased for preferring bland food, and I’m not big on burning candles. Alcohol is essentially intolerable to me with its combination of strong smell and taste. The more I sip, the more I’m reminded of nail polish remover.

Photo by Ash Edmonds on Unsplash

Sure, many people may struggle with these attributes. There is certainly growing awareness in the neurodiverse community (and outside it) for there to be spaces or accommodations for people with sensitivity needs. However, I do not identify with other aspects of the spectrum. I don’t want to get waylaid into diagnoses, I just want to explain what it feels like for me when I’m in these environments.

While society is becoming much more accepting of people who choose not to drink, I still feel a bias or judgment when I choose to not “go out”. I’ve been called “not fun” or told I was judging others for not going to the bars with them. I’ve been teased for having no interest in attending concerts or for wanting to go home early.

Honestly, this hurts.

Because it’s not that I’m tired (though after 9 or 10pm I often am!) and it’s certainly not that I dislike music, and I sincerely hope I am fun in some aspects. It is because being in venues that are loud, crowded, brightly light, etc make me want to cry.

Seriously. I’ve locked myself in a bar bathroom before and sobbed because I so desperately needed to leave and go home, but I didn’t have a way to get there.

The feeling is like my core is made of melting nuclear waste that is slowly working its way towards rupturing my skin and leaking out. My head is pounding, my heart is racing, and I feel like I’m being sucked into a black hole. I can't feel my legs or arms. I feel like I’m about to explode — truly, a nuclear meltdown.

Imagine feeling like this and trying to smile through it, holding back tears, because you're at a birthday party or wedding or some other special event that you want to celebrate, but cannot tolerate in any fashion.

Or because everyone around is telling you: just relax, you’ll leave soon, come dance, just have fun, let it go.

Let’s not even get started on the fact that at most bars it’s quite hard to hear people telling you these things anyway.

Photo by Pim Myten on Unsplash

Of course, the older I’ve gotten, the more comfortable I am declining invites or making plans to leave an event after 30 minutes of face time. Still, I feel like I have to explain why I’m leaving things early or choosing to not go at all. ‘Cause many people don’t get it. They love the experience of a concert or a nightclub. So they don’t seem to see that other people do not have that same experience.

I know myself well enough now to know that a concert or music festival would be hell on earth for me. The nuclear meltdown I’m going to burst into tears and dissolve into a panic puddle if I don’t get outside right now feeling. I don’t like disappointing people and it can feel rude to turn down an invite or leave a party early, but I also know how awful it will be for me if I attend.

It’s not that I don’t want to go—it’s more like I can’t.

I love fun. I just prefer it in small, quieter groups. I love music, I just prefer it on a tolerable volume while sitting down (ok, I love the symphony, you got me). I promise I want to let and relax as much as the next person. I only want to do that in a space I can hear my friends talking clearly and not have to shout to be heard myself.

My hope is in writing this out I can gain some understanding of why I say no to invites or leave events early. And I hope that someone out there recognizes their own needs in this post or in Susan Cain’s list. We are not lame or broken, in fact, we are experiencing so much so intensely all of the time, it makes sense and is valid for it become overwhelming. Our needs matter and we are allowed to care for ourselves.

Being highly sensitive feels like a superpower sometimes. Noticing things others don’t. Being deeply in tune with my body. I wouldn’t want to be any other way.