Thoughts on ‘Sensitive’ by Jenn Granneman and Andre Sólo

This isn’t intended as a book review, but for anyone exploring their own sensitivity rest assured that Sensitive is a crucial read. As well as providing a concise history of knowledge relating to sensitive persons  and their relationship with the world, it’s packed full of relatable testimonies, references to scientific studies (very important for me!), and helpful advice for parents of sensitive children and making the most of your sensitivity at work and in other relationships.

These are just a few thoughts on how it has helped me embrace my own sensitivity, and ‘break free of my shame cycle’.

Discovering my sensitivity

I first realised I was a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) during the intiial COVID lockdown in 2020, following the breakdown of a long term relationship. One of the comments I received from my ex was that she didn’t like the way I complained about bright sunlight hurting my eyes, as it spoilt her own enjoyment of it. I found this odd because, although bright sunshine has always affected my sight more than most people around me (the same with shop and office lights), I love sunny weather, and always find it improves my mood. (Living in the UK, it’s not a frequent problem anyway, and I was sure some of my other behaviours might be far more aggravating for a non-sensitive person to understand!). 

I’ve always had an intense relationship with music too. Good or bad (subjectively speaking) it will usually have what feels like a physical effect on me. If I hear a track I really like, it’s as if a wave of shivers is passing through my body and mind. If I hear one I really don’t like, it makes me want to gag, fogs up my mind, and I have to turn it off or escape from it instantly. If I’m working (particularly writing) I either need complete silence or non-invasive ambient music to block out any external noises in order to concentrate. When I watch a film where the soundtrack really complements the visuals, it can make me cry – not from sadness, but more a kind of uncontrollable wonderment.

Crowds are difficult for me too. In crowded pubs, I can barely concentrate on what any single person is saying. It’s as if all the conversations around me share equal weight, turning them into a total babble of sound. I used to think there must be something wrong with my hearing, but there isn’t. It’s more that I hear too well; I hear everything that is going on to the point where it becomes impossible to focus on a single sound.

Because of all the above, shops are particularly difficult environments for me. I rarely enjoy the music they force on their customers, the lights are often close to blinding, and they’re usually packed with other people. Christmas shopping with me is a total nightmare!

In short, I feel as if I’ve been walking around my whole life like a gaping wound, nerves fully exposed, easily hurt or threatened by the behaviours of other people, but easily finding pleasure in simple things, too. I also feel the emotions of people around me – empathy – but I’ve never been able to distinguish them from my own emotions or block their effects on me. Imagine the surprise, and likely distaste, of a girl I was getting close to at university who broke into tears when telling me about her past, only to have me do the same!

But it wasn’t until 2020, under lockdown, when I was trying to understand some of the difficulties I’d had in my now-defunct relationship, that I discovered the phenomenon of HSPs. At last, I’d managed to draw a connection between all these experiences. (At the same time, I also tried the Meyer-Briggs test and discovered I was an INFP, which explained even more of my experiences, and first led me to Jenn’s excellent website Introvert, Dear).

Embracing my sensitivity

 So why has it taken me three more years to feel I can mention being sensitive to other people? That’s where the book Sensitive really comes into play. It delves into not only the mindset of a sensitive person, but also how it contrasts with prevailing ideas within society – in particular, the Toughness Myth. The idea that, regardless who a person is, what they’ve gone through or how their brain and mind are constructed (physically and psychologically), the way non-sensitive people tend to believe problems should be dealt with is to simply ‘toughen up’.

 Sensitive not only shows how damaging this mindset can be for sensitive people, how it can stop them sharing their experiences, but also shows the benefits of being sensitive; how our sensitivity gives us abilities that can help us and those around us in our social, workplace and family relationships.

(The authors go as far as to describe these abilities as ‘superpowers’, but I baulk a little at this - in a world stuffed full of people trying to massage their egos and seek validation through over-empowerment of their opinions and lifestyles, is such hyperbole really helpful? I would argue one of our greatest abilities is to see past the need for such over-the-top language, and be open to a simpler way of life).

Raising a Sensitive Generation

I’m not a parent, and have no desire to be one, so I expected this chapter on parenting sensitive children to hold little interest for me. How wrong I was! Comparing the tips and case studies on raising a sensitive child to my own upbringing had me choking back tears. Both my parents were stoical and unemotional. I can’t remember them ever hugging me, and I was extremely surprised to discover my Mum had actually breastfred me – I couldn’t imagine her ever holding me for long enough. While she was extremely hardworking and always made sure her children had what they needed materially, emotionally we were left to fend for ourselves.

I think that when I came along, neither she nor my Dad (himself bipolar and an eventual suicide) knew what to do with me. I always felt I must have been adopted. Unlike most of my immediate family, I excelled at school subjects, but I was also socially awkward and incapable of dealing with the usual playground teasing. This was a major problem as I also wore glasses, had terrible acne, was overweight and rubbish at all sports. Playground teasing, and occasional bullying, was part of my daily routine.

I remember one particular day at primary school when things got so bad I hid under a table and refused to come out until my Mum came to pick me up. I know she talked to the teacher, but to this day have no idea what was said. Nobody ever talked to me about it. Looking back, it isn’t hard to draw clear lines between these kind of incidents (of which there were many) and the difficulty I’ve had with relationships throughout my adult life.

So this chapter, Raising a Sensitive Generation, ended up feeling more important to me than any other. Not just in allowing me to understand the effect my upbringing had on me, but in realising that parents of sensitive children cannot afford to make the same mistakes that mine did. In fact, I would urge every parent with a young child to read this chapter – you might not even realise your child is sensitive until irreparable emotional damage has already been done to them. I’m 48 now, and only just starting to realise and come to terms with what I am.

Moving forward

Having read this book, things do feel different for me. I’m not saying it’s a miraculous end to any difficulties my sensitivity might bring, but it has given me the strength to talk about it more openly with others. It has also helped me take a step back when I am overwhelmed by feelings, to consider what emotions are in play and what might have caused them, so I can use them more beneficially for myself and others.

It’s also made me realise that my own writing unavoidably comes from the viewpoint of a sensitive author – my own sensitive introvert values and experiences are reflected in many of my characters and themes. The current project I’m working on, a new sci-fi mystery, has the concept of sensitivity as a major theme – and this time intentionally so (but more on that at a later date…).

So whether you’re a sensitive person (or think you might be), the parent of sensitive children (or think you might be), or even a non-sensitive person who wants to understand us more, I urge you to read this book as soon as possible. There are more of us out there than you think - an estimated 30% of the world’s population, according to the authors – and our world is getting noisier, busier and more difficult to process every day.

If you’re a fellow sensitive, or think you might be, and want to share your experiences or your thoughts on the book, let me know in the comments below. I’d love to hear from you!