This book changed my life.
JDN 2456163 EDT 15:48.
A review of The Highly Sensitive Person in Love
I mean that quite literally: While I only finished reading it, already I am re-evaluating whole swaths of my experience and restructuring fundamental notions of my identity as a result. It was like looking at a page full of dots that made no sense before, and suddenly seeing them coalesce into a coherent image. Afterward, I couldn't make the image go away if I tried.
I am a sensitive. Elaine Aron would call me an HSP, a Highly Sensitive Person. I prefer the substantive adjective “sensitive” because HSP, being an acronym, sounds too clinical, too impersonal. But of course that's exactly the sort of thing a sensitive would say. A non-sensitive (I'm tempted to call them “insensitives” but I'll be more neutral in my terminology) would not notice such subtleties of word cadence and association.
So many things now fit together: why my romantic partners often call me “clingy” or “intense”, why I can't stand alcohol or loud noises, why the music I like is so difficult to place into a genre, why I am a perfectionist, why I have such poor self-esteem, why I suffer from anxiety and depression, why I don't like wearing jeans, why I have certain features of my sexuality, perhaps even why I have eczema and seasonal allergies. All these things are connected to a unified genetic trait that a certain minority of people have, sensitivity. (Aron says 20%, that seems high, but maybe I'm a particularly extreme case, perhaps the top 1%.)
If it has done so much to bring my life into focus and make me re-evaluate my depression and anxiety, why then can't I endorse this book 100%? Why would I only give it 4 stars out of 5?
Why? Because Aron is far too deeply immersed in Carl Jung and New Age spirituality. Especially in the last chapter, when she just lets it run wild, and waxes poetic about the Divine and the Self. It's very grating, particularly to an atheist who is also a sensitive like me.
I even sort of like Jung (and Freud for that matter), as a stepping stone to higher understanding. Jung is like Newton; he made this huge groundbreaking advance, which has since been superseded. He was wrong, but wrong in such a spectacularly right sort of way that many of his ideas are still useful as approximations. But Aron takes Jung completely literally, as if his every word were gospel. The result is like programming a GPS satellite on Newtonian parameters—only barely wrong, but wrong enough to make all the difference. No, my dreams are not a window into the collective spirit. My dreams are a window into my unconscious brain. Still useful, no doubt; but they have to be interpreted on that scientific basis. Dreaming of being a woman (as I occasionally do, but quite rarely) doesn't mean that the universal spirit of femininity is speaking to me—but it might well have something to say about my gender identity and expression. And the reason so many people have nightmares about snakes and so many religions have stories about snakes is that snakes used to be a leading cause of death about a million years ago, and this made an impression on the genes that manufacture our brains. It's not mystical or magical; but it is certainly real and important.
Some of Aron's most Jungian moments are when she explains attachment style entirely by young childhood experiences with parents, which is actually a bit Freudian as well. I think this is quite misguided; I have an awful attachment style (mostly fearful avoidant and partly preoccupied), but as far as I can tell my parents have always been good to me, certainly not abusive or neglectful and I don't even think overindulgent or overprotective—well, maybe a little at times. If you're looking for an experiential reason, I blame my romantic partners, none of whom have ever understood my sensitivity and most of whom have reacted to it in all the wrong ways. Genevieve was only 13 at the time (I was 14), so she I can't really blame her (in fact I think she is a sensitive too). Amber (we were both 16) didn't quite understand my sensitivity either, but she handled it much better, and all that went wrong was that our journey ended and she had to return to Alaska while I returned to Michigan. But then there was Cory, who just wanted my body and had no interest in my mind—by then I was 19 and he was 21. There were a few other men during that time when I felt that this sort of meaningless sex was all I could get (I don't even remember their names). And when I finally felt safe enough to love again, I opened up to Jane and she immediately broke me into tiny shards (if you're keeping score, we were both 22). Lan might have healed me, for he did appreciate me in the right way, but we were ultimately incompatible. And then Jane made it even worse by hooking up with one of my best friends—foolishly I gave him permission, not realizing how much it would hurt me. (I felt glad, and guilty that I was glad, when they broke up.) And now two more years have ticked by and I have no one, and only faint hope that this will change any time soon. I think I might be ready to love again... or nearly so... but I am so very terrified of what will surely go wrong this time. That is where I get my fearful avoidance.
Aron even has the audacity to tie attachment style to religion, noting that sensitives who are fearful avoidant are more likely to be atheists. Whether that's true or not (most of her research seems to be pretty good, so let's accept it arguendo), it certainly doesn't mean what she infers it to mean, which is that atheists are afraid of a relationship with God. (My own hypothesis? Fearful avoidants are painfully aware of how much life can hurt, and this provides them with compelling evidence that theism which believes in a benevolent deity can't possibly be correct. There are more atheists in foxholes—as the statistics on religious belief in the military versus in comparable socioeconomic demographics plainly attest.)
This gets especially frustrating because she is right about one thing: Sensitives care more about these issues. Things that most people think are just “matters of opinion” that can be more or less ignored for most purposes, sensitives realize are questions of literally cosmic importance. We are moved to higher purposes, often so much that the ordinary world around us seems mundane or even petty by comparison. While non-sensitives complain about gas prices, sensitives are shaking their heads and trying to plan for global warming. While non-sensitives are watching football, sensitives are watching the rovers on Mars.
Is it worth reading? Yes, especially if you think you might be a sensitive (it comes with a convenient self-test). But it could definitely have been improved by a more rational, empirical approach without all the mumbo-jumbo and mysticism.