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SuePattonThoele

Erosion of Hope: Sandpapered Senses



The effects of personal pain, media madness, and uncertainty on our sense of hope are readily apparent. Less obvious, but no less draining, is the bombardment of unrelenting stimuli hailing on us wherever we turn. Babies know their limits and, when overstimulated, are not at all shy about sharing them with whoever is available. We recognize the signs in little ones and act in their best interest by removing them from chaos, comforting them with rocking and crooning, and, best of all, encouraging them to nap. Few of us adults are as consciously aware of our own needs. The omnipresence of loud music, cell phone shouting, loss of personal space, miles-long to-do lists, the assault of sugar and caffeine, and our own internal demands for performance and personal perfection have caused us to lose track of our saturation points. Not honoring our sensory and emotional limits is causing us to “numb out” and anesthetize ourselves before we blow a fuse and strike out or stroke out from an overload of energy.


When we’re at the mercy of overwhelming stimuli, none of us has the ability to tap into our well of inherent hope. In fact, instead of taking gentle care of ourselves when signs of overstimulation surface, we often push ourselves harder and castigate ourselves about imagined failings. I know, because that’s exactly what I used to do to myself.

Well into adulthood, I was ashamed of the “over-sensitive” label some significant others had given me, and as a result, I added a few equally unflattering labels of my own. I thought I “should” be able to tolerate the involuntary auditory assault of loud music at home and in public places, and chastised myself for the “bitchiness” that arose when I said yes too often, didn’t get time alone, and ground my teeth to the bone when people chewed loudly. Sandpapered senses were a huge factor in my own erosion of hope—and still are, when I don’t pay attention.


Luckily, a friend introduced me to a book that has been a real lifesaver for me. It is entitled The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Survive When the World Overwhelms You by Elaine Aron. According to Dr. Aron, if you tend to feel that the world around you—and usually within as well—accosts you with too much, too often, too loud, and too long, you are probably an HSP (highly sensitive person) and need to accept that your personal wiring can assimilate less stimulation than is usually present in your life. I took three important pointers from Aron’s book: First, I’ve been able let go of the unflattering and untrue labels that others— and I—had given me. Second, knowing that I’m simply wired differently from about 75 percent of the other people, I now either make sure to take care of myself when going into a situation ripe for overload, or try to avoid those situations for which there are no good solutions. Third, my husband now understands that my wants and needs are not unreasonable and accepts me as I am. All of those adjustments have made a huge difference in my life and help me maintain an attitude of hope and a healthy lifestyle. Many of the suggestions and ideas in How to Stay Upbeat are intended to help you remove as much of the sandpaper stimuli from your life as you can, so that you have more energy for

planting and harvesting seeds of hope and creativity.

Excerpted from How to Stay Upbeat in a Beat Down World by Sue Patton Thoele. Available on Amazon.

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