Hypersensitivity: My Constant Companion

 “The lights are too bright, but if I turn them off, I’ll run into the wall.”

“I’m so hungry, but if I eat something, I’ll surely regret it.”

“The TV is too loud, but if I turn it off, the silence will scream.”

“My head is splitting from pain, but if I rest, I fall behind on my work.”

These are the thoughts that run through my mind multiple times a day. It can happen when I’ve been looking at my work computer for too long, or when I’m spending time with my friends, or even when I’m just lying in bed to enjoy Law and Order reruns; I’m hypersensitive.

The brain can play tricks on you. Mental illness isn’t always loud, it is quiet and unrelenting. Hypersensitivity is NOT a mental illness, it’s just part of my wiring, it’s how God created me. My sensitivity allows me to have intense compassion and love for those around me. I just feel things, and I feel them deeply. While these are not bad things, my sensitivity makes my anxiety and depression even worse.

Feeling everything so deeply is not just an internal feeling, it’s physical. I can’t watch horror movies without physically feeling pain in my stomach and chest. It’s hard for me to watch certain Disney movies, like The Fox and the House or Oliver and Company, without feeling physical pain from sadness. The sound of laughter even hurts, sometimes. The exhaustion is the worst, though. My hands are too weak to reply to friend’s texts and my fingers slip off the screen; I’ve taken a 2-hour nap, but I feel like I haven’t slept in years. Sometimes, I’m unable to talk.

Physical pain comes with depression, but my hypersensitivity confines me to my house. Not even just the house, I’m in bed all day. I can’t even get up to get food because no matter how hungry I am, I feel like I’ll throw up. Even the faintest sounds set my teeth on edge. My body aches from not moving, but I can barely stretch my legs. I crave companionship, but my cat’s fur causes me to overheat.

I just can’t win.

But not all days are like this. Feelings like this come in waves, they ebb and flow. Some days are harder than others while other days, it seems as if my illness never happened. It’s my companion, sometimes loud and obnoxious, sometimes quiet and bothersome.

This isn’t just something has happened to me overnight. I’ve always been a sensitive person. I hated being on the opposite end of a raised voice, I never liked bloody movies, and I always needed validation from others. This is just who I am, and people love me despite it. No, they love me WITH it.

For people who have this, you know how hard it is to explain. It almost sounds like fiction. It’s hard for me to explain this to other people, it’s hard for me to explain to myself. But it’s real. It’s valid. It’s me.