The cafeteria is my least favorite place on campus. There are just too many people who move around too much and make too much noise, and I get overstimulated, tired and agitated, very quickly. Adding to my stress, the cafe makes it hard for me to stick to my strict gluten-free, and now dairy-free, diet because of all the temptations and variety, most of which is toxic to me. Furthermore, causing some anxiety is the possibility of eating something with hidden ingredients that may make me ill.
But, I try to make the best of it. My friend and I go either as soon as it opens or just before it closes, when most students haven't gotten there yet, or after they've already left. Each time, I bypass the pizza and pasta station without paying it much attention and proceed to scan the traditions' selection. If I don't see plain rice or potatoes, I keep moving, towards the vegetarian station, which, thankfully, offers rice for many meals, but it is usually fried or has some kind of funky seasoning that may or may not make me bloated, alter my mood for the next couple of hours, or give me acne, so I'm always fearful. But I must still be in the rebellious stage of my new diet, because sometimes I eat it anyway and spend half the day worrying about what was in it.
If I really want to be careful, I head over to old reliable, the salad bar, the boring yet comfortable friend who is always there when I need her. I pile the lettuce and spinach onto my plate, and top it with various colorful additions, sometimes cucumber and tomato, carrots, chick peas, kidney beans and hard boiled eggs. As I walk by, I stare longingly at the dressings, and give my old friend cottage cheese a look that says, "I miss you, but we both know I can't have you," and reluctantly I walk back to my table, dodging bodies swarming towards me from each and every direction.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
HSP Group continued
Waynesburg University's Highly Sensitive Person Group met for the second time this past Wednesday, and went extremely well. We had a new member, who read one of the flyers I posted around campus and said to herself, "this fits me to a T."
She came in the room smiling, exclaiming, "oh my goodness, I can't believe there's a group for this! I didn't even know there was a name for it." She asked who started the group and where I heard about HSPs, and I told her I'd come across Elaine Aron's book, "The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You," which gave me the same kind of revelation she was experiencing.
She began to cry, saying, "I can't believe there's a book!" As our group leader went to fetch her a box of Kleenex, I handed her a self test listing the main HSP trait identifiers, which produced more tears as she admitted, "I can relate to all of these! This is me!
Then, she told us a bit about her childhood, and how, "I grew up with four brothers and being in the house with my family was so overwhelming, I'd have to retreat to my room alone and just cry. Everyone thought I was so pathetic. I'd think, 'why am I so different?'"
I looked at her as I'd watch a child learn to ride a two-wheeler for the first time. I was proud I'd helped her understand herself a little better and realize why she's different, and that she's okay the way she is.
Later on, she added, "I love nature, and that people destroy our environment hurts me so much."
"I know what you mean," I reassured her, "I'm a member of Eco-Stewards Club.
I could relate better to her, who seemed to be the most sensitive of the group, more than the other members. I left the meeting intensely fulfilled, like I'd nursed a baby bird with a broken wing back to health and set him free to fly just as high and far as the rest of his species.
She came in the room smiling, exclaiming, "oh my goodness, I can't believe there's a group for this! I didn't even know there was a name for it." She asked who started the group and where I heard about HSPs, and I told her I'd come across Elaine Aron's book, "The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You," which gave me the same kind of revelation she was experiencing.
She began to cry, saying, "I can't believe there's a book!" As our group leader went to fetch her a box of Kleenex, I handed her a self test listing the main HSP trait identifiers, which produced more tears as she admitted, "I can relate to all of these! This is me!
Then, she told us a bit about her childhood, and how, "I grew up with four brothers and being in the house with my family was so overwhelming, I'd have to retreat to my room alone and just cry. Everyone thought I was so pathetic. I'd think, 'why am I so different?'"
I looked at her as I'd watch a child learn to ride a two-wheeler for the first time. I was proud I'd helped her understand herself a little better and realize why she's different, and that she's okay the way she is.
Later on, she added, "I love nature, and that people destroy our environment hurts me so much."
"I know what you mean," I reassured her, "I'm a member of Eco-Stewards Club.
I could relate better to her, who seemed to be the most sensitive of the group, more than the other members. I left the meeting intensely fulfilled, like I'd nursed a baby bird with a broken wing back to health and set him free to fly just as high and far as the rest of his species.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
WU's first HSP Group
In all the research I've done on Highly Sensitive People, a recurring message among leading HSP experts is that it's so important for HSPs to connect with one another, because we are a minority, often misjudged by society and ourselves. Most of us are introverts in an extravert's world, and for that we feel different and alone, especially among non-sensitives.
That's why I've created a group here on campus called The Highly Sensitive Person Group, which meets every Wednesday at noon in the counseling center, until our group grows too big to fit in the tiny office and we have to move somewhere else.
Last week was our first meeting. I was nervous going in because I was convinced no one else would come, and I said I'd be happy if one other person showed up, so I was astonished when three others walked in. One was a friend of mine, and the other two had seen the flyers I'd posted around campus, and took a self test online to discover that they were in fact HSPs.
Once we had all squeezed into the tiny room, we began conversing casually about the aspects of our trait that set us apart from the rest of society. "Television commercials make me cry," the first member remarked. "My mom always tells me to lighten up, that I'm too sensitive," another added. The third admitted, "I can't sleep unless my room is completely quiet and dark. And, if my roommate leaves a mess on her desk, I can't study in the room, I have to go somewhere else," and we all nodded in agreement. "Same here," someone said.
There was so much I wanted to say, I couldn't form a complete thought, but it was enough being there with my kind, listening to them talk about the ways we were all so similar. As one insight flowed into another, my attention jolted from one side of the room to the other, as if watching a tennis match. The intern leading the group had much to contribute, discovering himself to be an HSP after reading Elaine Aron's book, which I'd lent to him.
What this HSP group does is shine a spotlight in the shadows of the "thick skinned" we sensitives have hid behind for so long. As our group continues to grow, so will that light, and soon, highly sensitive people in the Waynesburg University community will shine as bright as day, and we won't be afraid because of the connections we've made with our new friends, who know what it's like to be highly sensitive in a fast-paced, brutal culture. Together, we'll join hands on our journey to self-awareness and gain the courage we need to be ourselves.
That's why I've created a group here on campus called The Highly Sensitive Person Group, which meets every Wednesday at noon in the counseling center, until our group grows too big to fit in the tiny office and we have to move somewhere else.
Last week was our first meeting. I was nervous going in because I was convinced no one else would come, and I said I'd be happy if one other person showed up, so I was astonished when three others walked in. One was a friend of mine, and the other two had seen the flyers I'd posted around campus, and took a self test online to discover that they were in fact HSPs.
Once we had all squeezed into the tiny room, we began conversing casually about the aspects of our trait that set us apart from the rest of society. "Television commercials make me cry," the first member remarked. "My mom always tells me to lighten up, that I'm too sensitive," another added. The third admitted, "I can't sleep unless my room is completely quiet and dark. And, if my roommate leaves a mess on her desk, I can't study in the room, I have to go somewhere else," and we all nodded in agreement. "Same here," someone said.
There was so much I wanted to say, I couldn't form a complete thought, but it was enough being there with my kind, listening to them talk about the ways we were all so similar. As one insight flowed into another, my attention jolted from one side of the room to the other, as if watching a tennis match. The intern leading the group had much to contribute, discovering himself to be an HSP after reading Elaine Aron's book, which I'd lent to him.
What this HSP group does is shine a spotlight in the shadows of the "thick skinned" we sensitives have hid behind for so long. As our group continues to grow, so will that light, and soon, highly sensitive people in the Waynesburg University community will shine as bright as day, and we won't be afraid because of the connections we've made with our new friends, who know what it's like to be highly sensitive in a fast-paced, brutal culture. Together, we'll join hands on our journey to self-awareness and gain the courage we need to be ourselves.
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