Living Life on High Volume: A Reflection on Being Highly Sensitive
Have you ever noticed your refrigerator hum? If you haven’t, and it does hum, consider yourself lucky. For some of us, like me, being highly sensitive means nothing goes unnoticed. Not the buzz of electronics, not the way light shifts through blinds, not even the faintest changes in scent. Our nervous systems are like finely tuned instruments—picking up the quietest notes most people never hear.
In this post, I want to walk you through what it’s like to live with this kind of sensitivity. If any of it resonates, know this: you’re not alone. And being highly sensitive doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re deeply connected to the world in a way that’s both a gift and, at times, a challenge.
A Night in the Life
Last night, I was lying in bed, stuffy from my usual sinus issues. I reached for my nasal spray—four quick squeezes—and suddenly, my ear popped. Then came the sound. A low, windy humming that set every internal alarm off. I froze. My brain said, This isn’t normal, and my body followed with You’re in danger.
The irony? My fiancé was peacefully asleep beside me, completely unbothered.
I had to find a way to calm myself down in silence, and eventually I did what I often do when I feel overwhelmed: I turned to AI. Just writing out my experience helped me process it. Slowly, the humming began to fade into the background. I realized it was the sound of our fan, spinning fast from hours of use. With that clarity, my anxiety ebbed, and I fell asleep.
But when I woke up, the frustration returned. I was annoyed with myself—for being “too” sensitive, for reacting so strongly. That’s the thing about being neurodivergent. My ADHD brain doesn’t just see the world, it feels it, all at once and all the time. I experience life through an emotionally charged lens, and even the subtlest change can feel like a tidal wave.
The World in HD
I remember when I first got glasses. The world was suddenly too detailed. The sharpness of leaves on trees, the depth of color—it was so overwhelming I couldn’t keep them on for more than a few seconds. I told my mom it was just too much. She gently encouraged me to try wearing them in short bursts. So I did.
Eventually, once my nervous system settled, I looked out my window and saw the world in a way I never had before. My apartment complex, nestled in nature, transformed. The trees were vivid. The sky had depth. The world was alive in a way I’d never been able to take in.
That moment stuck with me—not because of how intense it was, but because I didn’t give up. I gave myself time. Space. Permission to adjust. And in doing so, I discovered beauty that was once inaccessible to me.
A Privilege in Disguise
Being highly sensitive isn’t easy. It means I sometimes panic over things others don’t even notice. It means my brain wants to understand every little detail, which can be exhausting. But it also means I get to live a version of life that’s textured and rich—once I allow myself to settle into it.
If you’re like me, if you’ve ever been frustrated with your sensitivity, I want you to remember this: your body is trying to help you experience more of the world, not less. Your mind wants to protect you, not punish you. And sometimes, the overwhelm is just part of the adjustment process.
So next time you find yourself spiraling over something “small,” take a breath. Give yourself a moment to recalibrate. You are not broken. You are simply living the human experience on a higher frequency—and that, in its own way, is a quiet kind of magic.
