#19: Highly Sensitive + Sober in NYC
Bright lights, big city...and Mars Retrograde
I’m not sure when I consciously realized I was a “Highly Sensitive Person.”
Was it when snakes started communicating with me in 2020? Was it in 2019 when I had a dream about a string of seemingly random numbers attached to a certain person…only to find out the next day that it was the exact amount of money in their bank account?
Maybe it was actually earlier, much earlier. My Mom loves to share stories of my “grand mals” (which I just Googled for the first time to discover is the scientific name of a major seizure) in childhood.
When I was just a few years old, and feeling frustrated- or perhaps overstimulated for any number of reasons, I would stand completely still and ball up my fists by my sides. My Mom describes watching it happen as if “the energy was rising up from my feet through every part of my body only to explode out of the top of my head” in a wild sort of rage.
I was obviously a super cute three year old.
I was diagnosed with Panic Disorder in 2016, six months after moving away from New York City. I was having multiple panic attacks a week, with one particularly scary episode that included half of my face going numb. I was prescribed Clonazepam…which is LITERALLY A SEIZURE MEDICATION.
Life has a funny way of coming full circle, doesn’t it?
Years later, I recognize that I’m easily a poster child for the strangely trendy HSP (highly sensitive person) designation…but that idea makes me feel kind of weird. I noticed a through line with this trend of wanting to own or stake claim to things that perhaps we (individually and societally) used to hide, in the most recent newsletter of Maybe Baby.
Haley, a writer I admire very much, had an eloquent hot take that I greatly appreciated about the “destigmatization” of cosmetic procedures, and I realized it’s exactly how I feel about making the HSP identity part of my pErSoNaL bRaNd.
When people shout to the rooftops about having had work done, they’re often praised for being vulnerable. But…is injecting shit into your face so that you look younger ever really being vulnerable? Or is talking about it openly just a convenient and seemingly altruistic way to continue to deflect from the actual (and much more interesting) root cause of what you’re doing…which is still ultimately taking the easy way out?
When I was invited to New York to give readings at the newly opened Birthdate Co. popup store in Soho (!!!) I felt…a lot of feelings. The first was pure joy, but it was followed very quickly after, if not simultaneously, by overwhelm and fear.
Would a person who knows they’re extremely sensitive and practically always a flight risk willingly return to one of the busiest cities in the world- without medication, and newly celebrating one year of sobriety (!!!!)?!
Well. The easy thing to do would’ve been to say I have a medical diagnosis that frequently impairs my ability to function, and that it would probably be safer that I not attend. That sentiment is true and maybe even vulnerable…and it’s also, definitely, a cop out.
I went to New York.
The first few days were absolute hell on my system (mentally, emotionally, and physically) and by the third day I broke down. I spent it exclusively inside: having a panic attack, crying, taking a bubble bath, calling my Mom (crying), and eating a very good bagel.
After those first 72 hours though, once I was allowed to truly process everything that was happening- I settled in. I met many wonderful people, had powerful readings at the store, and genuinely enjoyed my time back in the city.
Perhaps the most magical moment of the whole trip happened that first weekend when I physically felt someone’s aura for the first time. It’s noteworthy that her name was, also, literally, AURA. Thanks for that one, Universe.
I was closing out a 14.5 hour day preparing for opening weekend at the popup, and I was explaining the practice of Reiki and generally describing energy healing. I put my left hand at the top of Aura’s head, a few inches away from her body, never touching, and began to move down towards her right ear. At the exact same moment, we both felt something and I pulled away in shock. What happened next is a blur, but we were both freaking out, and our coworkers that watched it happen were equally dismayed.
She later described feeling it as a “pressure by her ear similar to being in an airplane” and I felt like I was pushing against an invisible field. Ahem, otherwise known as Aura’s AURA. It was a moment neither of us will soon forget.
A few pics of the magic:
While it can absolutely be overwhelming and frustrating to be a sensitive person in a stimulating world (or ahem, to age naturally without plastic surgery in an ageist world), it’s also a gift that should be acknowledged- not skirted around or used as a shield, just acknowledged for exactly what it is.
The Sun enters Sagittarius tomorrow (happy bday season to my Sagittarius loves out there, especially Taylor Swift) and we have an absolutely GORGEOUS Sag New Moon that will officially close out eclipse season on Wednesday. Hallelujah.
Whether you celebrate Thanksgiving or not, this week will remind us of all the delicious possibilities ahead, and give plenty of opportunities for gratitude for what’s already here.
I’m rooting for you, and hope you’re rooting for yourself, too. When we embrace ourselves honestly and fully, we can do anything (anything, ANYTHING!).
Sensitively, limitlessly, through time and space,
Erin River Sunday