1. Truth: Being an introverted hsp makes some things more difficult. Having a conversation for me can be hard. Either someone is trying to make small talk with me, which is hard for me to do while remaining calm and focused, or they want to have a deep conversation with me but won’t give me the space or time I need to process. People often don’t understand or respect my boundaries. Calling someone on the phone to make an appointment or request is the worst! Then there’s going to said appointment, also awful. Having too many things scheduled in a day or a week can be overwhelming. Combine any of these things with loud noises or other variations of environmental chaos and I’m wrecked.

2. Truth: I’m learning to be more gentle with myself. To give myself what I need to prepare for the kinds of things that are harder for me, and to recover from them once done, or to even say “no” if I just can’t. I’m also working on not giving myself a hard time for being “special.” I need what I need, am who I am, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

3. Truth: Sometimes being an introverted hsp is my superpower. In particular as a teacher, I’m able to hold space for my students and what they need, to withhold judgment about it. I think in general I’m a more compassionate person because of it, more patient and loving and sensitive. Even though it sometimes complicates things for me, I’m usually able to see the bigger picture, understand how all the bits and parts are working together. The intensity with which I process things, contemplate and see patterns, helps me to cultivate a deeper understanding. I’m tenacious and don’t like to give up.

One wish: May we cultivate self-awareness, and may that clarity translate to less suffering in the world. May our understanding of our own temperament, our strengths and struggles, make us more compassionate and wise, towards ourselves and others. “What if, right now, we used our human powers of compassion, clarity, gratitude, praise? What if we did it together—opened all those closed doors inside us? What if we let the opening do what opening does?” (from Manifesto, a poem by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer).