I’m delighted to share this gorgeous essay and poem from a long-time community member, Elizabeth from the UK. She skillfully encapsulates the essence of what it is to be a highly sensitive person in a world of change and loss, and I have chills every time I read it. I think you will, too. Thank you, Elizabeth, for sharing your exquisitely beautiful heart and soul with our community and planting your creative offering in our Community Garden!
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‘T.S Eliot famously opened his poem ‘The Wasteland’ with the words ‘April is the cruellest month’. True, he was writing in the wake of a devastating all-out war and touching into the trauma of an entire generation of people; yet, for an HSP prone to existential anxiety, this line rings true every single year.
Anxiety can feel like a wasteland. Anxiety can feel cruel. Anxiety can feel like you are fighting in a war against yourself. Spring, the season of rebirth, growth and new life can feel painfully vulnerable. The saplings, buds and tentative more-than-human life forms feel heartbreakingly innocent, exposed, endangered by the still lingering threat of winter frosts.
It’s in April that I feel my heart being broken open by the fragility of life and, every year, my trust in life’s cycles is tested. I’m not religious in a traditional sense at all, but it feels like no coincidence that some of the highest holy days amongst the world’s religions land in this season, with the themes of death and rebirth at their core.
In April 2023, I was feeling deeply into these big feelings whilst receiving some, frankly, irritating messaging from Instagram’s astrology algorithm that we were in a period of luck, abundance and growth, which were the antitheses of my feelings. Furthermore, I was at the threshold of a journey into conception, pregnancy and motherhood, beginning to consciously grieve the life I had lived up until that point and feeling myself separating from the kinds of experiences and existences my friends were still having.
My first profound Dark Night that initiated me into the world of relationship anxiety 5 years previously, and all the inner work and therapy that entailed, taught me that I cannot simply bypass big life transitions; water does not run off this duck’s back! I knew that even though I was still a little way off explicitly trying to conceive that I was already walking that path, and the sadness and vulnerability I felt was huge. Change, no matter how positive, is change, and as a creature who loves familiarity, habit and, yes, control, change feels like an existential threat to me.
This poem is an outpouring of all of the grief I felt, but is also a love song to the anchors I have in my life: my husband, my sister, my circle of friends and confidants that were brought together by Sheryl’s Break Free From Anxiety Course, my home, actions and rituals that provide ground from the everyday (doing the washing up) to the life-changing (celebrating my sister’s housewarming). Amongst the vulnerability of this precious, unbelievably fragile life, I am so blessed.
Sometimes I feel like the world’s biggest coward because I feel so much fear so much of the time about almost everything, but most particularly death and loss. But I am learning more and more that being courageous and brave isn’t about reaching some state of fearlessness; it’s about moving forward and continuing the adventure, trusting that I can navigate whatever will arise. Needless to say, this feels like it’ll be the work of a lifetime! I have so much gratitude to Sheryl and this community of beautiful HSPs who have the tenderest of hearts and souls, walking these paths together, witnessing each other’s journeys and bravely trusting that we are OK. We’ve got this.’
Jupiter cazimi – abundance and luck!’
And all I
can think
about is
the robin
lying dead
on the grass,
its beak
gaping open,
its defiant
red breast
castigating
the sky;
the backs
of my friends
as they laugh
on their way
through the dimming city
and I say goodbye
to a time and
way of life
in the half light;
the ache in my
arms from hauling
a door
we are struggling
so hard to
hang, a threshold
trying to materialise.
In the kitchen,
I turn to
‘The Lark Ascending’
and weep as
I chop the radishes
and spring onions,
a silent howl
as my tears pour,
once again
stricken
with the frailty,
beauty, terror
and despair
of living a life
in love and in
loss.
And whilst
I chop,
I hear my love,
he’s sweetly pottering and
planning in the
next room;
I feel my
moon circle,
with gentle,
loving solidity,
picking me up
as I stand
half-collapsed
at the sink
washing cups,
their hands
in the suds
with mine;
I am with the
smile of
my sister
as she examined
my ear
and accepted my
gifts of housewarming:
bread
salt
wine.
There are blockages
already beginning
to clear.
There is so much fear.
And the spirit of adventure,
it still whispers
my name.
‘The mystery of life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.’
Søren Kierkegaard
beautiful
thank you
Thank you, that’s so kind x
Touching the tender parts.
M
A lovely reminder that being an HSP is not just a challenge, but also a blessing.
I have truly come to believe that high sensitivity is a gift, as Sheryl says. It’s just not easy when we exist in a world that doesn’t honour it. Which makes me so grateful for this space! x
This is beautiful Elizabeth. The mention of the robin, your silent sobbing at the ‘frailty,
beauty, terror and despair of living a life in love and in loss.’ The comforting awareness of your partner pottering around in the next room. All these things moved me and struck a cord too. My children are 14 and 13 and beginning to need me less in and I’m full of love and pride for who they are but also fear for how this wonderful terrifying world will treat them and a sense of loss of the baby days. I’m grateful for this website and your writing and the reminder that there are lots of others who feel things as deeply as me.
This is beautiful ❤️ I can so relate. I loved the mention of the Robin – my heart literally aches whenever I see road kill on my drive to work.
Thank you! And I am absolutely the same.
I always feel more anxiety and an unnamed existential feeling around April, like clockwork. I never understood why. Thank you Elizabeth for expanding this. The Wasteland was written close to where I live and just that opening line has spurred me to read it for the first time.
The buds coming to life at that time of year do really jar against the inner word of change that I often feel. I’m feeling the same now as the nights grow darker and the line ‘water does not run off this ducks back’ in your essay reminds me to slow down and that of course, this transitional time always brings unnamed or not understood stuff up for me. My son has just started school but I have kept busy instead of recognising my need to honour this time.
Thank you for sharing so bravely this beautiful poem and giving me some clarity and connection through shared experience ❤️
Thank you for such a thoughtful comment Sara, this was so beautiful to read. T S Eliot is one of my favourite writers, I love that you live near where he wrote!
And sending you a lot of love as your son starts school. My son is only five weeks old and spiralling through loads of changes and growth… I can’t imagine how emotional it must be to send your little one off to school for the first time!
Thank you Elizabeth, this is beautiful! I relate a lot… As a kid, I’ve always loved Spring, the fresh new leaves, the crisp light, but I often thought that there was also some kind of heartbreak coming with all this beauty that I never could quite put into words – you expressed it so well! Many times, I’ve tried to avoid it, getting busy and caught in a flurry of activity.
On another note, I have been very interested in astrology since Spring 2023 precisely but took a step back recently as I realized that it spiked my anxiety a lot since I had been using it as a “false anchor”, a way to try to get some sense of control and predict outcomes. It takes quite a lot of courage (and time) to let go of it, get into the present moment and learning to trust again that we can handle whatever will arise… so worth it though!
Sending love <3
It’s so good to hear that I’m not alone with my April anxiety! It took me so long to wrap my head and my heart around it. I suppose it’s the paradox of the season that feels so potent, so much beauty and so much vulnerability. It’s funny because I find autumn to be a really cosy and joyful time, in spite of the loss of light and leaves. Riddle me that psyche!
And yes about astrology, I feel like I have to toe the line with it really carefully. I like to dip in and out but when I use it to look for answers or give it too much sway over my outlook over a month or with certain people and personalities, I have to be really careful. It’s just too tempting to look for certainty!
I love what you just said about a false anchor that is astrology. I use it in this way to predict the future and try to control an outcome. I appreciate your words. Thank you
As a fellow poet, and also a philosophy graduate, thanks so much for the poem, and the Kierkegaard reference
Thank you so much! I can’t lie, the Kierkegaard quotation was a huge epiphany for me 🙂
This is so, so beautiful. I am not too far from this threshold, and your words resonate deeply with my inner experience. Than you so,so much Elizabeth. The following words sound like a prayer to repeat to myself in difficult times:
“There is so much fear.
And the spirit of adventure,
it still whispers
my name.”
So grateful to read this!!!
Thank you for your beautiful, generous comment. It is one of the most potent thresholds I have crossed so far, a true initiation. I am very much still in the thick of the transition but it has been, undoubtedly, one of the richest, most transformative experiences I have had in my life so far. I am glad I said ‘yes’ to the adventure! Wishing you so much love and courage as you explore these pathways yourself x
Thank you for sharing and opening your heart. Your words are truly beautiful.
Thank you so much Leila, it felt so vulnerable to do so but I am so glad I did!