Why I Began To Work with Highly Sensitive Kids
The 'aha' moment that changed my life.
There’s still a few places left on a four-day retreat I’m running with Jules De Vitto next month at the beautiful Quadrangle in Kent. Details here.
Resonant Parenting Project #20
As many therapists will tell you, when you work with clients, you often start to see patterns and themes emerge.
This happened to me over a decade ago, when I was working in Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services (CAMHS) in various parts of the UK, supporting children, teenagers and families.
As a clinical psychologist, my job is like being a detective.
I’m there to work out what’s happening for the child within the context of their family, school, culture and community.
After an in-depth assessment, I create a document called a “formulation” — which sets out our shared understanding of what may be contributing to and maintaining a child’s difficulties. After separate discussions with a multi-disciplinary team, which could include social workers, psychiatrists and other professionals, we would decide on the best next steps to take.
The children I saw were all struggling in a multitude of ways: emotional difficulties (anxiety, clinginess); behavioural challenges (meltdowns, difficulties cooperating); and problems with sleep, eating, schoolwork, friendships, and family.
When these children first stepped into my clinic room, I saw:
Children who felt so much anger that they were damaging furniture at home or in school.
Children who would come into the room, then try to run away, or hide under the table.
Children so full of anxiety and negative thoughts that they would start stuttering, suffering nervous tics, or crying.
Children with so much exuberant energy that I would sit there as they bounced around the room, exploring and touching anything they could find.
Children who were withdrawn, with few words. Some were completely silent, only glancing up at me occasionally from their doodling pads.
Parents were at a loss. Some were distressed, desperate for concrete answers and support. Others were genuinely confused and bemused by what they saw as a ‘weird’ child who was so different to them and their other children. Others felt the system was letting their child down.
Schools didn’t know what to do with them, either.
The core messages associated with these children were:
They’re confusing
They don’t fit
There’s something wrong with them
‘Can I Trust Her?’
As I gained these children’s trust, they gradually let their guard down, and allowed me into their world, as we drew pictures, played with toys, or talked. I listened to their innermost thoughts, and tuned into their vulnerable feelings.
These children were different. They had a depth and uniqueness about them: a thoughtfulness, a perceptiveness, and a subtle presence, something beyond their years. I called them “old souls.” I could often feel them assessing me, as if asking themselves, “Can I trust her?” I had to let go of any parts of me that were playing the ‘role’ of a clinical psychologist, because they weren’t going to talk to someone who wasn’t authentic and real. I had to meet them at the same level.
What else did these children all have in common?
They felt misunderstood.
They were acutely aware that adults thought there was something ‘wrong’ with them.
They were intense, deep kids.
While some did fit into a diagnostic category, many didn’t, and they all puzzled me, so I did more research.
An ‘Aha Moment’
I watched a talk by Gabor Maté who recommended Thomas Boyce’s book The Dandelion and the Orchid. I also discovered American psychologist Dr Elaine Aron, who coined the term Highly Sensitive Person in 1996. I read her book The Highly Sensitive Child, and found a growing scientific research base of studies by academics, including Professor Michael Pluess, providing proof of something I already intuitively knew: that just as we have different coloured eyes, there are biological differences between us in terms of our sensitivity to our environment. I found out that high sensitivity is a temperament, an inherited personality trait, not a medical condition, and has been observed in more than 100 nonhuman species including pumpkinseed sunfish, (Wilson et al. 1993), birds (Verbeek et al. 1994), rodents (Koolhaas et al. 1999), and rhesus macaques (Suomi 2006).1
Suddenly, the pieces of the jigsaw started to click into place; a real “aha” moment.
I thought, “that’s it, these children are in the 20 to 30 percent of the population who are born with a more finely tuned nervous system, which is more responsive to the environment around them.”
Whether an introvert (70 percent), or extravert (30 percent), these highly sensitive children perceived and processed sensory and emotional input in a deeper way.
They had stronger emotional reactions to events and experiences, and felt all their feelings — their anger, their fear and their joy — more intensely.
I found these children were so aware of people, and would notice how others were feeling. I saw them as tuning forks, constantly scanning their environment.
They were thoughtful, and curious, and asked many questions, including some really deep ones I wouldn’t have expected from people so young in years — about the meaning of life, what happens after death, the environmental crisis, and the cosmos.
Misunderstood
I saw children who became very tearful as they told me about watching other kids being mean to other kids at school.
Many had lots of empathy (often for animals), and were the children who wore their hearts on their sleeves.
They had a strong sense of fairness, and justice.
They struggled with the feeling they’d done something wrong, and hated being told off, so they tried hard not to make any mistakes.
They were creative, imaginative, observant, intuitive, and perceptive.
I discussed high sensitivity with other professionals on the team and wider network, but no-one had heard of the concept.
It was the same when I spoke to teachers in schools.
Many people assumed, incorrectly, that if a child was “highly sensitive,” they were weak, fragile, and cried a lot.
These children were the opposite. They had such a strong presence, and were deeply feeling, thoughtful, socially aware, and observant.
However, it was clear that to experience the world in such a deep way, was an overwhelming and overstimulating experience for many of these children, especially when their environments weren’t working for them, or they didn’t have the right understanding and attunement from the adults around them.
They felt misunderstood, not listened to, and picked up on the judgements and labels they were given (she’s not confident enough; he’s too shy; she’s too sensitive; he’s too disruptive), and react.
Either they internalised their feelings, becoming quiet and withdrawn, or they externalised their feelings by showing their anger through aggression. Underneath the behaviours, lay a multitude of feelings such as shame, sadness, confusion, frustration, fear and hurt, caused by the gradual chipping away of their sense of self, and self-confidence, by the world around them.
Right Support
For all the beautiful qualities and depth of presence I could see and sense in each one of these young people, I was also very concerned about them. These children were having an incredibly stressful and hard time; they were unhappy and going down the wrong path. They needed help and the right support. They needed a space where they would be really seen and understood, someone who could connect with them at that deeper level, and see the being beneath all the intensity, tears, aggression, worry and ‘shyness.’
I also wondered how we could help these children retain their authenticity — this amazing spark and life force, and presence, that they innately seemed to possess — without it being suppressed, and stamped out of them, or them being made to fit into a box and conform to society’s expectations.
I also felt that these children had something to teach us, and that we could all learn from them, if we let go of our conditioning, our judgement, and our fears of them, and truly approached them with openness, respect and unconditional acceptance.
I found it such privilege to be in a position where I could work with these children, and in next week’s newsletter, I will share more about why I relate to them so deeply.
See you soon,
I write the Resonant Parenting Project in between my work as a conscious parenting coach and looking after my six-year-old daughter Matilda. Any support from readers through liking, sharing, subscribing or buying me a coffee helps make this work sustainable. Thank you!
Acevedo, B., et al (2014). The highly sensitive brain: an fMRI study of sensory processing sensitivity and response to others’ emotions, Brain and Behavior, 580-594.