by Anabel
Dealing with unpleasant emotions of others is not always easy – especially when it comes to people who are highly sensitive. According to author Elaine N. Aron, 15-20% of humans are genetically destined to be HSPs (Highly Sensitive Persons). As a consequence, their brains process information on a deeper level, causing the individual to notice subtleties more intensely. While this can, evolutionarily speaking, be a wonderful advantage, HSPs also grow tired or overstimulated more readily than non-sensitive people. What is perceived as moderate stimulation by a non-sensitive person will often border on overstimulation in an HSP.
Typically, many highly sensitive people experience a sense of overstimulation when encountering sirens, strong smells, crowded areas or fast-paced movies – to name just a fraction of possible factors. Many HSPs are also instantly aware of the moods and feelings of others as though they were in fact a vibrant color of an outfit glaring at them furiously, which can become an obstacle to their own attempt of staying balanced in a world that is a handful to process, even on a regular day. Whether or not you are an HSP, it is likely that the moods of others affect you in some way or another; perhaps you feel that they might even “transfer” to you. This can often be a daily experience – say, when your partner comes home from work after having a mediocre day.
In this blog, I will be taking a mindful look at what really happens when we are, for instance, infused with someone else’s “grumpiness.” Dealing with someone’s more toxic emotions, like rage, is for another blog, another day.
The other day, I had to wipe away a tear because baby Bolt loved his little stuffed carrot so much. The emotions of others have a huge impact on my own. Even if it’s in movies. And yes, even if it’s a computer-generated Disney dog. As you can imagine, things get ten times worse when I am confronted with an actual human in my ordinary environment. It’s not that I break down and cry every time anything moves me. Except with a couple of chosen people, I rarely even show my deepest emotions. But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
I’ve had a suspicion for a long while that, somehow, I may feel more, or more deeply, than many others. I have, for instance, immense trouble keeping other people’s grumpiness from infusing my own emotional sphere. Sometimes it is close to impossible to keep the two separate.
Once I admitted that I might, after all, be a Highly Sensitive Person, things finally made sense. There you go, I thought. Now I have an explanation. I’m normal, whatever that means. At least, others experience this, too. But. Does that mean HSPs are forever doomed to be the emotionally skinless chameleons? Are sensitive people simply destined to be the victim of every little breeze of sadness or frustration swooshing by from outwards?
The conscientious, daily practice of mindfulness has, over the past couple of months, fundamentally changed many a self-perception of mine. One of these is the assumption of having no choice but to be highly influenced by other people’s moods. Ironically, after I had finally found an explanation for why I am this way, which would technically enable me to remain exactly as is, I started looking at it with more curiousity.
It all came to an epiphany when, during one of my breathing meditations, my husband came home in what appeared to be a grumpy mood. I believed I could detect it from the way he made noise in the kitchen, rummaging through the utensils, baking something, and tossing the occasional teeth-clenched grumble into the mix. Naturally, my first instinct was to interrupt my meditation and greet him in order to appear friendly and also to figure out what on earth was going on.
Then, I decided to experiment. In mindfulness, we simply observe what is — with an interested, friendly, non-judgmental eye. Above all, we observe not others, but ourselves. In essence, it is something that wise people have done for millennia and now we have a fancy term for it. Yet the part that is especially tough to swallow is that, whether what is feels pleasant or not is, in the first instance, completely irrelevant. We take whatever there is. Because it’s interesting, particularly when it feels unpleasant. We generally like to lean away from what doesn’t feel pleasurable. We like to categorize it and label it as a particular emotion or state and then make it go away or, if we can’t do that, at the very least ignore it. Indeed, to most of us it might seem completely counter-intuitive to actually turn towards an unpleasant sensation – say perhaps the physical sensation of hunger, or, on an emotional level, maybe shame – so as to truly feel it, and examine where and how we feel it. But once you do it, there is a lot to see. What does shame really feel like? Where do we feel it? What does it do to our body? When did it start? Was there a moment that made it kick in? Can we reflect and figure out what it was that brought about the change? What exactly happened there?
Up until that one meditation, with the energetic clatter of dishes cutting through the air, I liked to say things along the lines of “his mood easily transfers to mine.” But that day I realized that this is indeed another categorization that I quickly make without closely looking at what truly happens. What truly happens became extremely visible once I decided to, just for ten more minutes, sit with it and observe what was happening — to me.
In truth, when my husband came through that door, a number of things happened. Once I zoomed in on the sensations I was feeling, I realized that his grumpiness was not simply being “transferred” to me. As much as I’d love to hang on to this somewhat convenient explanation, it is much too simplified. Indeed, his mood does make me grumpy, but not because I am a helpless little sponge that directly absorbs all the colors of the world. In reality, several reactions to his emotional state happen within me, and ultimately, the outcome of those reactions leads me to become grumpy, too.
This is what actually occurs. Firstly, I make an assumption: Oh dear, he is grumpy today! We generally tend to make assumptions because we like to categorize and be ready for things. With this readiness, we then approach the situation that we perceive to be real, when really it might not even be the case. By approaching the situation with a certain suspicion in mind, however, we then also act on that suspicion, which in turn influences the outcome of our interaction.
As a result, I feel the urge to go up to him and gather information. Why do I need information? I need information because I must know exactly what is going on at all times. Because. I like to know. Because then I can fix it, right? I can make everyone happy again. Because happy feels pleasant and grumpy does not. Which begs the following questions: Why is it so hard for me to bear unhappiness?
Am I afraid of it? Do I fear it’ll never pass?
What happens next is that usually, when I do follow my urge to confront the person and inquire and feel my way into their state, I often end up feeling rejected, because, well, the other person is grumpy. They don’t want to talk. They also don’t want to feel responsible for my feelings. They just want to make noise in the kitchen. So I get slightly hurt.
Then I get angry. Because, generally speaking, I am a fairly happy person. I make an effort to see the negative as well as the positive. I take care of myself. I try to take self-responsibility — for my choices, for my behavior, for my reactions. This has, over the past few years, granted me a certain level of stability and happiness for which I am immensely grateful. But it’s not a given. So yes, I do find it annoying when people just grump all over the place. Can’t they get a grip of themselves?
End result: I am grumpy.
You will have noticed that his grumpiness does not automatically equal my grumpiness. It is an entirely new, different grumpiness. But how does this help me?
It helps me in so far as I can now say that yes, I am susceptible to the moods of others, but I am not a victim. A lot of what is happening is actually intensified by my own automated patterns. Nor is the other person responsible for my emotions. Ultimately, my reaction is my reaction, just as your reaction is your reaction. More often than we’d like to admit, we actually have a choice. It’s perhaps not always nice to hear, but it’s true.
In observing and absorbing all this, I now have room to react differently. A whole field of questions and possibilities has opened up and it’s become much easier to gently notice my own reactions — openly and curiously.
So why is it that I feel this pressing need to restore another person’s emotional state to “normal”? What does that say about ME? Is there something I am afraid of? Is it because I feel too deeply? Am I scared that the other person’s mood will persist indefinitely? Is there some terrified part in me that thinks this will permanently influence our relationship? Which part of Marvelline is this? What formed it? Can I touch this part with warmth and understanding?
Perhaps, in future scenarios, I can remind myself that mindfulness is truly accepting what is, not just for myself, but also in respect of the other people I cross paths with. Maybe I can remember that emotions are generated by life’s little pebbles thrown into our ponds, and the ripples – our feelings – will unfold in a reactive dynamic, whether we want them to or not. If I can just recall that emotions are not optional, also not for other people. Let them have theirs (they too will pass). Accept them in the ripples they are experiencing at the moment. It is something they need to go through, because life threw them a pebble. They have their very own right to react to it the way they want to. Maybe they need to be alone. I can now give them that room, because I know that their emotions have little to do with me and my own. And maybe I can give myself some room, too, because I now know I am not needed to even out the other person’s ripples. It will most probably happen all on its own.
And then all I can do is watch my pebbles and my ripples. Mindfully.
Find Anabel’s other work at www.anabel.ch
For more basic information on HSPs, get a hold of Elaine Aron’s excellent bestseller, The Highly Sensitive Person. How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You (1996).
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About Admin
Highly Sensitive People respond very well to mindfulness meditation practice and mindfulness therapy, which I specialize in and offer online. The key is to actually focus your mindfulness on the emotions themselves; to meditate on your emotions rather than just the breath. When you cultivate the expansive and compassionate awareness of mindfulness toward your emotions you effectively neutralize the habitual tendency to react and become overwhelmed by the emotion. I describe this in my book, The Path of Mindfulness, as mindfulness-based exposure therapy, and it works really well.
Thanks Peter. I’ve been watching your stuff online for a long time; it’s good to see something from you. I’d love for you to come along to the forum and join our mindfulness community.
nice article really enjoyed it