Highly Sensitive Persons

My story: 

It was not until I was 47 years old that I learned that I am a Highly Sensitive Person.  It was then that I read a book called The Introvert Advantage because I wanted to try and understand why I needed to be alone so often and have more “downtime” than other people I knew.

I had always felt different and did not know why.  While this book resonated with me to some degree, it did not explain everything.  In The Introvert Advantage, however, she referenced another book called The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron, Ph.D.  

The title caught my attention.  At my first opportunity, I went to the library and checked it out.  I think it took me all of two or three days to finish.  I could hardly put it down.  I was overwhelmed with emotion as I felt like she had written this book just for me.  It suddenly all made sense.

Normal.  Just different.

I was not flawed or defective. There was nothing wrong with me!  I was just different.  It was incredibly validating and literally life-changing.   

I have learned to fully integrate it into who I am and not only accept it but to embrace it.  However, it has not been an easy journey.  I understand the pain that comes with being different.

My passion for helping other Highly Sensitive People is a direct result of my own struggles to come to terms with this normal trait. 

Baby Boomers & Loss

My story: 

When I was eight years old, my father died suddenly.  He was 34.  My mother became a widow at the age of 33 and was left with two teenagers and me to raise by herself.  In 1969, children’s grief was not understood and death was certainly not talked about.  I then experienced many other subsequent losses in the next few months, including the death of my father’s 28-year-old brother, the auctioning of our farm, a move to the suburbs of Kansas City, the many animals I loved and the attention and nurturing of my mother due to her own grief and depression.  

All of this unresolved grief led to years of depression and dysfunction.  It was not until I was 37 years old that I found a therapist who understood these issues. However, when I was 39, my mother suddenly died at the age of 65.

Healing, Growth, and Realization.  

It was then that I had to find meaning in all of the pain and loss that I had been through.  I realized that it was time to pursue my dream of becoming a therapist.   So, at the age of 40, I began graduate school and earned a Master’s Degree in Social Work two years later, exactly 20 years after receiving my Bachelors Degree in Social Work.  

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