I grew up as the emotionally sensitive child in my family.

I’ve always been easily moved to tears, whether due to injustice or deep beauty. As a child, I absorbed the feelings of others, which may have fueled the anxiety and severe asthma that marked my youth.

My emotional sensitivity was most noticeable. I’m not sure if anyone grasped my sensory issues. In school, I struggled with watering eyes from the fluorescent lights. I lived out my childhood in leggings and refused to wear jeans until I was a teen, due to sensory discomforts.

As I grew older, I struggled to keep up with my friends and family. My heightened awareness allowed me to read others and mold myself to nearly any context. Coming from a huge Italian-American family, I cultivated this ability to be heard and belong. Yet, my chameleon skills only took me so far. Eventually, I’d feel exhausted from overstimulation or feeling inauthentic.

Discovering Sensory Processing Sensitivity has since helped me understand my challenges, care for my needs, and identify ways to contribute that align with my strengths and energy.

Connecting with other sensitive people emphasized the importance of community.

I had dreamed of bringing other people to experience the cultures and communities that shaped my worldview and self-understanding.

While I reflected on my most fond, impactful memories, I also remembered wondering if there was something wrong with me for needing much more downtime than my travel companions.

I wondered about a new approach, and in 2016, I began organizing retreats for highly sensitive people and introverts to connect with other cultures, places, and kindred spirits, all within a supportive structure and pace that respects our needs.

Over time, these retreats became deeply personal, evolving into a tribute to my mother.

It was always apparent that my mom was sensitive, but insights into my own sensitivity led me to a deeper understanding of her experiences and challenges.

My mom could light up a room. She was smart, creative, silly, and kind. Despite our later relationship challenges, I remember her as a warm, nurturing mother during through much of my childhood.

She was deeply empathetic, often taking on other’s emotional burdens. Like me, she was sensitive to lights and textures. Physical pain was an ever-present companion, as was an endless quest for its source. My mom faced mental health and substance use challenges, likely complicated by her sensitivities.

Like many HSPs, my mom was a spiritual seeker. She sought healing in a wellness landscape laden with hollow promises that not only failed to deliver but seemed to worsen her symptoms.

I often wonder if understanding her sensitivity might have altered her path. 

Would it have offered clarity and healthier ways to cope? What could have been the impact of a grounded community of other sensitive people?

I’ll never really know this answer, as she passed away in 2007.

What I know is that I’ve faced my own encounters with depression and chronic pain that have allowed me to better grasp the complexities of her experiences and influenced my own path.

It’s been a reminder that some of the simplest practices can help us thrive as sensitive people…good sleep, restful practice, therapy, healthy food, yoga, exercise, sometimes medication, boundaries, critical thinking, connection to nature–and ourselves as part of nature’s diversity, and supportive relationships.

While deep self-care is undeniably important, we need each other.

Community is the lifeblood that allows us to experience belonging, share and support each other, and build resilience together.