Have I mentioned that I hate small talk? I mean, ewww. The meaningless banter makes me want to get outta there, stat. But, give me some depth, catch my interest on a topic, go beyond the ordinary chatter and I’m hooked. I loooove stories SO much.  I could listen for hours as a story unfolds. Yes, it’s one of the reasons I became a therapist, and it’s one of the gifts of therapy—we very quickly move past the shallow small talk and dig into what’s real and what matters. As an HSP, this stirs my soul. I come alive with such deep and meaningful conversations.

A couple of years ago my husband and I bought our first house. Prior to this, I’d spent the past decade + living in apartments and condos with no yard to maintain, just a small patio or deck at most. I tried my hand a few times at having some potted plants or trying to grow some herbs but didn’t have much luck. So, when we moved into our new home, I decided that because I love nature and I love the outdoors I was going to do some gardening, dammit!

By now, I’ve tried my hand at planting broccoli and cauliflower and squash and carrots and lettuce and so forth and have had a lot of fun with the planting and the harvesting. It still amazes me that I can grow produce in the backyard! (I feel like a little kid who’s all excited that the seed they planted in a cup is actually becoming a real-live-green-thing.) And—because this is a therapist blog—I have to share that during my gardening exploits, I’ve discovered something about myself:

Change. I hear the word and experience a flood of emotions. What feelings come up for you when you think about changes in your life?  Excitement? Anxiety? Irritation? Overwhelm? Sadness? Curiosity? Fear? Joy? All of the above? More? Change can be exciting, thrilling even. It can motivate me, drive me, push me to excel. However, change can also completely overwhelm me, threatening to suffocate and strangle out any energy or passion that I have. Sometimes change is even irritating. I am planning for my day to go a certain way. Maybe I’ve even mapped out what will happen, and then, zoom, I’m thrown a curve ball and it all changes. So annoying!

Ever catch yourself saying, “Argh! Really?! How did I end up back here again? I thought I’d gotten over that!” Just imagine me vigorously nodding my head as I type. I’ve been there so many times, more than I’d care to count. It can be the most frustrating experience. You think you’ve done your personal work, addressed the problem and are ready to face the world! Then, blam! You find yourself back in an old pattern. You may feel defeated, you may feel humbled. You may feel ashamed or hopeless.

But there’s some light in this tunnel—did you know this is NORMAL? You are not incompetent, and you’re not a lost cause. This process is a part of growth, believe it or not.

62 miles of vineyards, farmland, and rivers—doesn’t sound too bad, right? Oh wait, did I mention 62 miles of cycling? Until a month ago, I would have said that was completely insane. However, my significant other has had a goal for years of riding a century—a full 100 miles of cycling. He’d talked about it before but hadn't gotten around to it. So, this year when the topic came up, I decided not only would I be supportive, but I would also set some cycling goals with him. I like the idea of having fitness-oriented goals, and we both love being outdoors, so what did I have to lose?  I even registered with him for some upcoming centuries, knowing that we could do shorter rides on the day of, if necessary.

2016 ended with a bang for me. Unfortunately, it was not that of fireworks or a champagne bottle. My sweet, handsome 15 year old cat, Noche, had to be put to sleep. His kidneys were failing, and despite many tests and treatments, the vets still weren’t sure what was going wrong and couldn’t stop it. My heart felt like it was ripped out of me. Just 2 weeks prior Noche had gotten a great bill of health from the vet. As an older kitty, he had his share of health conditions, but they were being treated, and he seemed to be doing great. Imagine my shock, then, when we were out of town for the holidays, and my pet-sitter called to say Noche wasn’t eating. Thus began a week long roller coaster of vet phone calls, appointments, debate about whether to come home early, hospitalization, improvement and then rapid decline, all of which ended with my husband and I sitting at the vet’s office on the last day of the year holding my very sick boy for the last time.

I am crying as I write this. I miss him so much, and I still can’t believe that he’s gone. I also realize that as a highly sensitive person, I feel these emotions intensely. As an HSP and a therapist, I find myself noticing my feelings and naming the stages of grief as they come and go.

Just mentioning the “holiday season” evokes strong reactions in a lot of folks . . . although those reactions can vary A LOT. Some people instantly appear overcome with wonder and awe and excitement and speak only of joy and good times. (The rest of us stare at them in disgust. Just kidding! It’s just that the holidays are more complicated for many people.) For some, referencing the Christmas/Hanukah/ Kwanza/New Year’s holidays brings a heavy sigh, “Ughhhh, so much to do” or “sooo much dealing with family.” For others still, this time of year brings up deep sadness and loss—perhaps loved ones are gone or relationships have ended or they’ve never gotten to experience any version of the movie/greeting card “magic” of the season and they grieve what they haven’t had.

This blog is for all of you who don’t fall into that 1st category.

Today my heart overflows. I love my work. I am filled with joy and gratitude. There is nothing--nothing--like being with people in the most real way possible. It opens my heart up and creates this sense of peace and rightness with the world. That said, I bear witness to a lot—the lowest of lows and the baby steps and sometimes even the highest of highs. It makes me realize how wide and deep life is. There is so much we experience as human beings. There can be such pain, turmoil, discord, strife mixed along with such happiness, pleasure, success, hope. And all of it makes us human. All of it is real and part of what it means to be alive. Getting to see that and honor it up close with my clients is the BEST thing.

For highly sensitive people, finding our sweet spot can be a tricky endeavor. We want a place where we can thrive with our creativity, our intellect and insight and our passions WITHOUT becoming overwhelmed and exhausted. That may not sound too difficult to  non-HSPs but for those of us with sensitivity, it can be brutal. 

Being a therapist is interesting work. In fact, it might be a job like no other. Day in and day out, I bear witness to people’s emotional pain. There aren’t many other places in life that people attend expecting to focus on or release the pain they’ve been carrying around, like they do in therapy. It’s a unique position to be in. It can be heavy, soul-wearying work. It can also be holy fulfilling and exhilarating. As a colleague once said to me, “Being a therapist is the best job and the worst job.” The highs are high, and the lows are low. Yet, I can’t imagine loving any other work in the same way. Why?

Because my job lets me see people--really, truly see who they are.