Glass Molasses

I’m moving in a clear miasma, so clear that the white of a lady’s dress aches my head. So clear that I can feel the pain of everyone who walks by.

I’m in a bookstore for hours at a fundraising event. It takes all my strength to be present or hold a conversation. I walk back and forth, avoiding too much interaction. All I hear, see, or feel is pain and fear.

I can only frame it in my understanding of the Highly Sensitive Person, or HSP. Generally, I run headlong into stimulating situations, our learning lifestyle is raucous and alive with boyish energy. Then there are times when I am overwhelmed by adjacent conversations or the sound of my son crunching an empty water bottle.

Today was like that from sun up to sun down. I ended up in bed on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, storing energy and isolating myself. I don’t know how else to cope right now. Fortunately, it worked well enough to prepare me for another late evening with my sons appearing in outdoor Shakespeare.

As I become more in touch with my empathy I find myself in increasingly intense states of mind. I struggle to discover a rhythm in which to dance with these heightened emotions. The waves crash before I can master them, yet I will again wade out into the surf and be called to the dance by enticing drums.

God bless and thank you for reading,

Jason