Getting my pulse back
How I ebb and flow my way through life as a sensitive sensation seeker
Isn’t it funny how, right after you write about loving the transition from summer into autumn, the thermometer flies back up and hits the thirty mark two days in a row? Two weeks ago, I was ready to get my sweaters out and start wearing socks again, but I couldn’t because it was TOO HOT. Even now, I’m writing this sitting on my balcony in a summer dress, sipping on an iced latte, enjoying the breeze that makes late summer so enjoyable. Knowing these warmer days are on their last legs makes them a little satisfying.
I named August the month of micro-adventures. At the beginning of the month, I went cycling and camping for two days, joined a friend for a full moon beach hike/silent disco, and spent two nights on a houseboat, swimming, sunbathing, and cycling some more.
These micro-adventures have been genuine lifesavers for me. When we returned home from our summer holiday in Scotland, I celebrated my 30th birthday and felt extremely blissful for a few days. But then, summer stretched itself out before me. After finishing my summer to-do list at work and waving friends and family goodbye as they departed on exciting summer vacations, I felt empty and bored. The weather was of the kind that made me believe everyone was having a blast out there while I was pining away behind my laptop in a warm apartment filled with boxes left to unpack as Mr. Handsome slowly moved in with me. I could feel myself slipping back into the ravine of bore-out, not knowing what to do about it. That is until I remembered everything I learned about myself over the past six months.
Around December last year, I first heard about the term sensitive sensation seeker. Reading this Dutch book about it, I felt like I finally understood myself. A sensitive sensation seeker combines two character traits: highly sensitive person (HSP) and high sensation seeker (HSS), abbreviated to HSP-HSS. Seemingly a contradictio in terminis, these traits go together quite often. Estimates from researchers are that about 1 in 5 people are HSP (both men and women, although it is more common in women). Around 30% of these highly sensitive persons are so-called sensitive sensation seekers. That totals about 6% of the population, or approximately two kids in every classroom.
I’ve thought for a long time that I’m a highly sensitive person. I quickly pick up on other people’s energy. I’m sensitive to violence, injustice, bright lights, and loud music, and I seriously dislike crowded places. But some parts of me didn’t quite fit the description. Yes, I need alone time to recharge, but I’m not someone who thrives by flying solo. Even though I prefer social interactions to be one-on-one, I do need a daily dose of them to feel happy and to develop my ideas. I’m not a homebody; I love to travel. The new tastes, smells, and colors of an unexplored country make me feel alive. Even though I’d sometimes love for life to be more predictable, I’m not a person for routines and regularity. I’m curious and love learning new things and having new experiences. I’m always studying in one way or another, even though it’s been eight years since I last set foot in a university. I love to physically push myself and practice sports with an element of speed or flow, like surfing, mountain biking, and sailing. I’ve always been sensitive to external stimuli and other people’s energies, but when I try to avoid them altogether, I grow deeply unhappy. These are all character traits of HSP-HSS: someone who seeks silence and sensation.
In a way, it often feels like a sea inside me that ebbs and flows. It wants to soar and swell until it’s too much and retreats again. For a long time, I tried to balance my life out. Especially after experiencing burnout, I was careful not to do too much or see too many people. I kept most of my evenings and weekends free to recover from my dull day job. But it never really made me feel better. I often felt bored and stuck. I was living in my head a lot, fantasizing about a different life without taking any action toward it – afraid it’d be too much. I had flatlined my life by taking out all the excitement and the things that make me feel alive.
So when I felt myself slipping back into the abyss of boredom, I forcefully kicked myself in the but and went on a little adventure.
✍🏻 I’m curious to hear: do you identify as a highly sensitive person and/or a high sensation seeker? And what’s your take on micro-adventures? I would love to get some inspiration for fall-themed adventures!