We’re wired to process things intensely, and we deplete faster than those who aren’t highly sensitive. I startle so easily, I tell people I was a spooked horse in a past life. But the good feels extra good, too — like noticing a slightly irregular beer bottle, or hearing a song that’s nothing short of euphoric. To recover, we slip into vacuums free of sensory input.
Ask a chain of questions, and you’re an extrovert for a night without having to talk about yourself. You could even muffle New York City if you lie in bed, put two speakers on either side of you, fill them with white noise, pop a Xanax, turn on a fan, jam in earplugs, and smother your head with a pillow.
Any tears, invasive rumination or compulsions, and rage about small injustices were plucked out and canned behind closed doors. I never wanted to confess the stupor I felt after someone was mean to me, or that I well up with happy tears when I’m feeling earnest, which happens a lot with nice customer service representatives.
Ask a chain of questions, and you’re an extrovert for a night without having to talk about yourself. You could even muffle New York City if you lie in bed, put two speakers on either side of you, fill them with white noise, pop a Xanax, turn on a fan, jam in earplugs, and smother your head with a pillow.
Any tears, invasive rumination or compulsions, and rage about small injustices were plucked out and canned behind closed doors. I never wanted to confess the stupor I felt after someone was mean to me, or that I well up with happy tears when I’m feeling earnest, which happens a lot with nice customer service representatives.
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