The World in High Definition: My Journey as a Highly Sensitive Person

Have you ever stood at a gas station, drawn in by the strong scent of petrol, feeling as though you can sense each molecule with great intensity?

Do you dread confrontations because a potential dismissal of your feelings would feel nothing short of a sharp jab in the chest?

Do you instinctively shut your eyes when a gory movie scene appears or find it ridiculously hard to hold back tears when your dog whimpers or a baby cries during a vaccination?

If yes, welcome to my world—our world—the world of a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP).

When You've Always Felt "Too Much"

For 22 years of my life, I struggled to articulate how I experienced the world—an internal reality that felt too intense, too vivid, simply put, too much. While others moved through life seemingly unaffected by subtleties that deeply stirred me, I found myself perpetually absorbing emotions, sensations, and energies like a sponge. This difference bred isolation, self-doubt, and a creeping belief that perhaps I was flawed.

There was no name, no label that explained why I planned elaborate birthday surprises weeks in advance, anticipating every little detail that might bring someone joy. Or why, after a social evening, I would come home drained, needing complete silence, even if I had loved every second of it.

That changed when my therapist introduced me to the term "Highly Sensitive Person." That single moment of recognition was a lifeline. Suddenly, I had language for my experience. I wasn't deficient—I was simply wired differently. And now, I'm here to extend this lifeline to you.

DOES: The Pillars of High Sensitivity

A useful acronym to remember the core traits of HSPs is DOES:

D — Depth of Processing

Being an HSP means we don't just skim through life—we deep-dive. We process every experience, every conversation, every emotion with a profound level of detail. This isn't a voluntary choice; it's more like our default setting.

I've always found myself tracking micro-expressions, sensing undercurrents in conversations, or connecting the present moment with distant memories and emotional patterns. It is as though I have a personal library of past social interactions that automatically inform my understanding of the now. This natural process often lends HSPs the gift of having a fine-tuned (but not infallible) intuition—allowing them to often make decisions without even consciously knowing how they arrived at them.

Neuroscientific studies attribute this ability to increased activity in the insula region of HSPs' brains, which is responsible for integrating emotional, sensory, and contextual information. This helped me finally comprehend why I could never help but notice and be attuned to the people in any room I entered.

O — Overstimulation

With this heightened awareness of both internal and external occurrences, one would reasonably expect an HSP to feel a lot! Imagine, if you are going to notice every little thing in a situation, isn't it obvious that the overstimulation will also exhaust you sooner than your non-sensitive counterparts?

This is why I never fancied going to crowded concerts or loud restaurants/night clubs. It's not that I can't enjoy such outings—I mean come on, attending a Coldplay concert with its immersive audio-visual experience could be sublime for an HSP—but the duration for which I can genuinely enjoy such an experience would most likely be shorter than my other friends. After a point, the same source of euphoria would bring about overwhelm for my nervous system.

Even everyday things like choosing the perfect birthday present or playlist for someone would often feel like a daunting task because I'd feel deeply responsible for how that small gesture would affect them. It is owing to this overstimulation again that listening to music while studying or having group study meetings was never my thing—I'd be too distracted and overwhelmed to focus in social company or with lyrics playing in the background.

However, being an HSP should not be confused with having a problem condition that involves feeling distress due to high levels of stimuli. Sensory discomfort can often be seen as a sign or indicator of a disorder—but with HSPs, an important point of differentiation is that they don't have problems with sensory processing, rather they're unusually good at it!

E — Emotional Reactivity and Empathy

Data and surveys showcase that HSPs react more to both positive and negative experiences.

Your professor publicly snapped at you?—higher amounts of embarrassment or shame. A beggar helplessly kept nudging you for money?—higher pity or sympathy. You had the time of your life at an amusement park?—higher than average joy and fascination!

Sensitive people have more activity in their mirror neuron system which involves brain cells that fire both when you perform an action and when you observe someone else performing the same action. This equips us to understand the intentions and emotions of others by "mirroring" their actions and experiences in our own brains. This heightened activity in the mirror neuron system is exactly why we struggle to view others' pain because we mirror and process them as our own! Simultaneously, this is also what allows us to deduce other people's intentions and feelings, bestowing us with the ability to have remarkable levels of empathy.

S — Sensitivity to Subtleties

It's not that HSPs possess extraordinary senses—I mean I've had glasses since the eighth grade, which is a clear testament to my poor vision. But what sets us apart is our sensory processing sensitivity, which makes us often pay attention to things that others may miss out on. This is because the brain areas responsible for complex processing of sensory information are more active in HSPs.

Anyone who has known me closely will thus attest to how I instinctively close my eyes, and throw out a chef's kiss every time I take a bite of something palatable. I cannot help it—the sensory experience, the explosion in my taste buds is too powerful to contain myself. And this is exactly why I more sharply notice an elusive eye roll, the texture of a new bedsheet, or the discomfort of a clothing tag brushing against my skin.

The fragrance in a Sephora showroom? Intoxicating, almost poetic. A loud ringtone in a silent room? Jarring. A perfect spoonful of cheesecake? Happy tears, quite literally.

These reactions aren't exaggerated. They're just authentic to the way our nervous system is tuned.

Sensitivity in Everyday Life: A Lens I've Come to Embrace

Growing up, I often felt like there was something inherently weak about me. I vividly remember sitting in exam halls, heart pounding, as the invigilator stood behind and peeped into my answer sheet. It didn't matter how well I had prepared—just the awareness of being watched made my brain fumble. I would go blank, thoughts scattering like birds startled into flight. And when it would take me considerable time to gather myself back, I'd feel way too impressionable and less capable than others. For years, this feeling crept into my self-worth, quietly whispering that I was too fragile for the real world.

But learning about my identity as an HSP changed everything. What once felt like a burden slowly revealed itself as a different kind of intelligence—one that is sensory, emotional, and deeply relational. It helped me reframe moments like those exam hall freeze-ups not as evidence of inferiority, but as examples of how acutely I process my environment.

And in many ways, this wiring has been a quiet superpower.

Take the joy I find in creating gifts for loved ones. I've spent weeks crafting handmade scrapbooks layered with riddles, dried flowers, inside jokes, and secret pockets—because making someone feel seen and cherished lit something up in me that no store-bought item ever could. My sensitivity—at times a source of overwhelm—also pours into gestures of love, manifesting as attunement, care, and creative expression.

Even small, everyday moments are infused with my sensitivity. Carrying an extra snack for a friend, a jacket for someone who might feel cold, or offering my metro seat to a stranger who's been standing too long—these aren't acts I perform consciously to "be nice." They're instinctive. A natural extension of feeling deeply for the world around me. Because sensitivity doesn't just heighten our experiences—it expands our capacity for kindness.

Reframing Sensitivity as a Strength

Being an HSP in a neurotypical world designed for the majority isn't easy. Research tells us that only about 15-20% of the population is highly sensitive, while a significant 42% are not sensitive at all. That disparity explains the sense of being "othered" so many of us feel, especially in childhoods where labels like "too shy" or "overly emotional" were casually thrown around.

But here's a powerful truth: the very brain differences that make HSPs more vulnerable to things like depression also come with advantages. The same genetic trait linked to lower serotonin levels in HSPs is associated with enhanced memory, refined decision-making, and deeper mental functioning. In other words, what makes us sensitive also makes us wise, perceptive, and capable in unique ways.

So now, when I think of that child who froze under the pressure of being watched, I don't see someone less capable—I see someone whose nervous system was tuned into life's finer frequencies. Someone who, over time, would learn to alchemize that sensitivity into connection, compassion, and quiet strength—and rest assured, here I am, a practicing psychotherapist!

So, Where Do We Go From Here?

If you're an HSP, know that you don't need fixing. You need understanding, acceptance, and permission—to pause when it gets too much, to feel deeply without shame, to seek solitude without guilt.

The world wasn't ideally designed for people like us, but that doesn't mean we don't have a place in it. Our depth, our empathy, our attunement—they are superpowers.

So the next time someone says you're too sensitive, smile and say, "Yes, I am—and what a gift that is, isn't it?"

Because loving an HSP—whether that's yourself or a loved other—means embracing the depth, not trying to dilute it.