by Anne Bogel
Downtime. More than most, HSPs need to be deliberate about resting and recharging at regular intervals. When you need to recharge, make sure you do something that actually fills your tank. For example, HSPs may love catching up with a friend on the phone, but it’s quite possible this will drain them instead of filling them up. Instead of listening to a podcast, HSPs may be better off spending twenty minutes with a good book and a cup of coffee. For you, that may mean going for a run or a walk through the woods or knitting or taking apart a radio.
Minimal information intake. HSPs may need to limit the amount of information they take in at certain times. They also need to be especially careful about not making their tech tools—especially their smartphones—instruments of their own destruction. Our era, as in all eras, has its share of tragedy. But in stark contrast to other eras, our hyperconnectivity means detaching ourselves from the swirl of twenty-four-hour news coverage on the latest crisis can be difficult. HSPs are more likely to be exhausted because of the sheer amount of information coming in from all directions. As a general rule, I don’t check email, Twitter, or Facebook when I’m supposed to be taking a “break.” The last thing my brain needs is additional stimulation via email or social media.
Routine. Embracing routine is helpful for many HSPs. Smooth routines make for fewer decisions, which is good because decisions tax HSPs’ mental energy more than that of non-HSPs. We’re all vulnerable to decision fatigue, but HSPs are even more so. Consistent routines offer the bonus of less talking. This is a bonus because talking zaps their energy.
Boundaries. Good boundaries are crucial for the care and keeping of intuitive types. The same inner radar that lets them “know” things about people and places can also work against them, causing them to adeptly take in negative energy. This can be so draining that Aron advises HSPs to make setting good boundaries an explicit goal.
Particular Concerns about Parenting a Highly Sensitive Child
It may take a while for parents to realize that some typical activities most kids consider fun are torture for highly sensitive children. My HSC hated the echo-y indoor play places at fast-food restaurants and the animated movies from Pixar and Disney every other kid seemed to love. To my dismay, one of the places my young HSC hated most passionately was children’s church. When he was young, the large evangelical church we attended had an equally large children’s program. The children’s room was packed with throngs of people, exciting games, blaring music, and flashing lights. My friends’ nonsensitive children loved it.
But this environment that nonsensitive children experienced as fun was literally painful to the sensitive child. For every nine kids having a blast, one was huddled in the corner with his hands over his ears. The place was overwhelming. The people, the lights, and the noise combined for a nonstop assault on their senses.
If you are the parent of an HSC, be aware that your child’s specific needs must be managed just as any other highly sensitive person’s needs would be, but the fact that it’s your child brings an extra sense of responsibility.
If you suspect your child is highly sensitive, an official assessment (such as Elaine Aron’s good and free one, which I mentioned earlier) will help you identify your child’s specific triggers. In most cases, that knowledge combined with a hefty dose of common sense and ingenuity will help you and your child tremendously. Professional attention is not usually required, although it never hurts to ask your pediatrician if you’re concerned. High sensitivity is a natural and normal trait.
You can be a great parent for your HSC whether or not you’re highly sensitive yourself. As we’ve seen at my house, each pairing has pros and cons. Because I’m highly sensitive, I understand what my HSCs are dealing with, and I intuitively know how to respond in certain situations. I have empathy up the wazoo for their struggles. My husband, Will, is not highly sensitive, and he has unique strengths when it comes to parenting our HSCs, not despite his nonsensitivity but because of it. (Important note: When I say “nonsensitive,” I don’t mean the man doesn’t have feelings. I just mean he doesn’t feel things the way the highly sensitive do.) He brings grounding and balance to our highly sensitive children. When the kids are punching my highly sensitive buttons, Will isn’t fazed. And because of his nonsensitive nature, he prods our HSCs to try new things much more than I do.
All parents advocate for their children, but parents of an HSC need to learn what their individual child needs and educate the people who regularly interact with them. This is usually easier for parents who are not highly sensitive themselves. The younger the child is, the more it’s appropriate to shield them from the triggers that drive them bananas, whether that means buying tag-free clothing or turning down the blaring music in their brother’s room or keeping the playroom at least a little bit tidy or not leaving the kitchen counter continuously buried under a three-inch pile of homework and art projects, aka visual clutter. So my HSCs know what’s coming next, I’ve asked our babysitter to let them first read to themselves the ending of a book the sitter is reading aloud, if they’re asking to do so. I’ve asked my mom not to run four errands in a row with my kids in tow. And I’ve even spoken with my children’s teachers about not making my HSC participate in activities like finger painting with condiments in class (a real example and one that gets my gag reflex going every time I think about it—talk about sensory overload!).
Parents can teach their highly sensitive children how to move in the world, equipping them to get what they need while mitigating their triggers. You and your child can learn to speak the language of high sensitivity. My HSCs, who used to feel generally flustered on a regular basis without really knowing why, have learned to specifically identify what is troubling them. They’ve learned to ask themselves if it might be the noise making them uncomfortable, or the bright lights, or the seams of their socks, or even playground drama at school, and to voice their concerns when appropriate.
Understanding is the greatest gift any parent can give their highly sensitive child. Don’t pretend they’re not different; they already know they are. To thrive, they need to acknowledge, understand, and appreciate what makes them unique—and they need you to do these things too.
The Upside of High Sensitivity
High sensitivity is a mixed bag. Sometimes HSPs feel as though they would trade places with a nonsensitive type in a heartbeat. What they wouldn’t give to be able to take things in stride for once instead of always experiencing everything so strongly! But high sensitivity has its perks, and I don’t think many HSPs would sacrifice them without a fight.
The bad news for HSPs is that their nervous systems are extremely sensitive. But there’s good news too: their nervous systems are extremely sensitive. If you’re an HSP, it may be hard to believe this is a good thing—at least on the days when the world is overwhelming you and you’re fantasizing about moving to a cabin in the woods in Vermont by yourself—but the sensitivity that sometimes makes you want to run and hide can be a tremendous strength. Experiencing more does have advantages. This trait makes you a kind and caring friend, an empathetic and wise counselor, an insightful employee, and a spiritual seeker.
HSPs can be intense. They are passionate by nature, and can make others feel their passion too. They have laser-like focus and dedicate boatloads of attention to the things they care about. They’re able to explore issues in depth, seeing the nuances that others miss or choose to ignore. They’re extremely perceptive, picking up on all sorts of things nonsensitive types miss. They are really good at deep conversation and are eager to explore meaningful topics. And they’re creative, able to turn their hyper-awareness within to generate new ideas. When we think of high sensitivity in that light, it sounds like a superpower.
As for me, I still have days when I have a hard time believing my high sensitivity is truly “normal,” such as when a cheesy pop song makes me cry even though I objectively think it’s stupid. Or the grating department store elevator music pushes me toward the melting point. Or my
übercluttered kitchen counters threaten to overwhelm me. But learning more about my nervous system has helped me understand that although I’m outnumbered by nonsensitive types, I’m certainly not alone. And I’m just fine the way I am. Understanding myself has also helped me stop screaming on Thursday mornings—and for that, I am grateful. Wouldn’t you be too?
4
Love and Other Acts of Blindness
the five love languages
For as long as I’ve known Will, even before we were married, his mother has sent me greeting cards for every occasion.
She loves greeting cards so much that she arranges card blitzes for her loved ones’ birthdays. When her mother turned eighty, she arranged for her to receive eighty cards in the mail—from friends, yes, but also from total strangers. Her mom thought this was awesome. When a friend turned seventy, she magically received seventy cards in her mailbox, thanks to my mother-in-law, and she was delighted to get them. I didn’t understand. It’s just paper—and it’s not as though it’s paper that bears warm, personal communications. It’s expensive paper, preprinted with commercial messages!
Then again, I have never been a “card person.” I just don’t care. Often, I’d save the cards she sent and wonder what to do with the clutter they created, or I’d toss them but feel guilty about it.
A few years back, I changed my tune. Now, I send greeting cards. (Or at least I intend to and feel like I missed an opportunity when I don’t.) It wasn’t my mother-in-law who changed my mind—or a friend or my husband. Gary Chapman’s 1992 book The 5 Love Languages introduced the world to another personality framework and changed my mind about greeting cards.
The book and its subsequent spin-offs—love languages for men, children, teens, singles, and even members of the military—have struck a chord with readers everywhere. Chapman’s books have sold ten million copies and counting. The ideas are simple and easy to grasp. They offer a framework that quickly transforms the way you see people and, subsequently—after lots of practice and intentionality—your relationships.
As we’ve learned in the previous chapters, various personality frameworks shed light on how people approach the world in fundamentally different ways. Each of us has a unique perspective that affects everything we do, and how we love is no exception. Like all other personality differences, innocent misunderstandings about how to express love can wreak havoc on our most important relationships. These misunderstandings put a wall between us and our loved ones, making good communication impossible.
Sometimes these misunderstandings are harmless, or even funny. When I was a teenager, my family went to Germany. Thanks to several years of high school German, my communication skills were good enough to navigate Germany’s sites, restaurants, and transportation systems.
That changed the night we went out to a cozy little restaurant with a German friend in Münster. Our dinner was fantastic—and filling—and when we were finished, our server came to our table and asked if we’d like dessert. I quickly answered—in German—that I was too full to eat anything else.
The server looked surprised; our German friend started laughing. When she caught her breath, she explained that I had just told the server I was far too pregnant to eat anything else. I was a slender, fresh-faced, fifteen-year-old girl.
My intonation was good. My words were accurate. My intentions were pure. In my head, I could see no reason why the server didn’t catch my meaning. Yet I didn’t say what I had meant to say—not even close, in fact.
Mine was a harmless mistake. We were talking about dessert, and a friend fluent in both languages was there to correct it. Communication breakdowns like this happen every day. However, those mistakes aren’t about dessert but about our most important relationships. When it comes to love, it’s crucial to understand that all of us speak languages that can feel just as different as English is from German. And when we don’t even realize we’re speaking different languages, we’re especially vulnerable to losing the message in translation.
What You Need to Know about the Five Love Languages
Fundamentally, Chapman believes love is an action; it must be demonstrated in ways others can understand. He introduced the idea that there are five main ways people express love:
words of affirmation
quality time
giving and receiving gifts
acts of service
physical touch1
We all speak one of these five love languages fluently—it’s our primary language. This is the language we’re born with, and it’s probably the language of our parents and siblings. It makes us feel loved. Most of us are fairly comfortable with a second language but less so with the remaining three.
Trouble inevitably arises when we don’t realize or fail to remember that our primary language isn’t the only language; it’s one of many. And when our spouses (or children or parents or friends) speak different languages—ones we’re not fluent in—we can’t understand one another. Even if we’re sincerely expressing love in the best way we know how, others may utterly fail to comprehend our actions. And vice versa.
This isn’t anyone’s fault. It’s the variety of human experience that keeps things interesting. But as human beings, we all have the fundamental need to feel loved, especially by those closest to us. If we don’t learn to speak a secondary language so that the ones we love can actually feel our love for them, then we’re doomed.
Bridging the Language Barrier
Most of us can usually recognize sincere expressions of love from our loved ones. But Chapman says our emotional tanks cannot be filled unless our primary love languages are spoken.2
I first learned of the concept of the “emotional bank account” when Will and I were in a couples’ small group at church with seven or eight other newly married couples. One night someone introduced me to a concept that has stuck with me ever since. Imagine that we all have an internal checking account, but it’s not money that’s on deposit—it’s love. When we receive and truly feel an expression of love, that’s a deposit into our account. When our loved one does something (or doesn’t do something) and it makes us feel unloved, that’s a withdrawal. It became a joke in our group to verbally track deposits and withdrawals we could observe on display. When a husband would say something that was complimentary to his wife, someone would jokingly say, “Now, there’s a deposit!” And when the opposite happened, someone would exclaim, “You’d better make sure you don’t overdraw his account!”
It seemed silly. We were all young and in love, weren’t we?
In fact, I remember the winter when we were regularly commenting that a certain man in our group was making lots of withdrawals from his wife’s account. We always said it in jest, and it was funny and lighthearted, a sign of group camaraderie—or so we thought. I assumed that because he was outspoken about everyone’s strengths and weaknesses—including his wife’s—she accepted and maybe even liked this about him. I was stunned when, just a few months later, she told me they were getting divorced. They were the first of our friends to split up. When we met for lunch after their separation, she explained, “He said he loved me, but I never felt like he really did.”
In The 5 Love Languages, Chapman uses a metaphor similar to the emotional bank account: the emotional love tank. He writes that we all have a vehicle that needs a certain kind of fuel. But whatever we choose to picture, whether a bank account or a vehicle, realize that being on empty is painful. Having an empty tank, or account, leaves us feeling isolated, unknown, and unappreciated. As my friend can tell you, this is devastating to any relationship.
It’s essential to our emotional health that we feel adequately loved, and our emotional tanks need to be filled up for us to feel we are truly loved (even if we intellectually believe we are).
So how do we keep others’ tanks full? We need to be sure we express our love in a way our loved ones can actually receive. This means learning to speak their primary love languages, even if they don’t come naturally to
us, because that is how they will best feel our love.
In any relationship—especially in marriage and family relationships—each person needs to not only know they are loved but also feel it. If we don’t learn to speak a loved one’s love language, then that person won’t feel our love. What’s worse, our failure to communicate love in a way our loved one can understand may feel so horrible that they will feel not only unloved but also as if we are deliberately withholding love. Not good!
Being able to speak your spouse’s language ensures that both of you will continue to feel loved even when the initial high/infatuation of falling in love fades away. (Chapman says the initial “in love” feeling lasts two years, so if you’re in it for the long haul, you have to learn to speak your spouse’s love language.)
On a lighter note, the love languages framework can also open your eyes to understanding more about your mate as a person: who they are, what they enjoy, what makes them “tick.” And doesn’t continually learning more about your spouse keep things interesting?
When learning about the five love languages, it’s important to remember that love is a choice. If we don’t naturally speak our loved ones’ love languages, then we need to learn how to do what doesn’t come naturally. And every day we need to choose to demonstrate our love to them.
The Five Love Languages Explained
To pinpoint your love language, you first need to get a feel for what each of the languages looks like. Once you do, you’ll be able to spot them in action in your life and the lives of your loved ones.
