Highly Sensitive People Unite!

Last year, while researching the main character for a novel, I discovered that I belong to an elite group of people who comprise (they think) about twenty percent of the population.

Imagine my surprise and delight to find that I'm not alone. That I'm not weird. And that there's nothing wrong with me, I'm wired like this. Phew. Big sigh of relief.

I was so excited that I sat down and wrote an article and posted it to this blog. I keep a link at the top of my sidebar in hopes that other HSP's will be guided here. So that they (you) will know, too.

You are not alone.

For the same reason, I repost the article from time to time. I was fifty-three before I found out. What if my parents had known? And what if I had been told as a child?

Imagine how different my life might have been.

What if someone had said, "Olivia honey, there is nothing wrong with you. Yes, you're different. But in a good way. You're gifted. You feel things others don't. You see things differently. You're a prodigy. You are not a freak, nor a problem child. You're to be encouraged in your eccentricities; not squelched, ridiculed or belittled."

Yeah, No. That didn't happen. Not in my house. Did it happen in yours?

Eldala author, Michelle Gregory, found me after one repost and wrote a beautiful comment. I wanted to host an HSP blog hop and asked if she would like to co-host. She agreed.

Then the depression hit. I procrastinated. Let time slip by. Then more. Still no HSP Blog Hop. But I still think it's a good idea. And, Michelle, if you're reading, I'm ready.

Would anyone else like to weigh in? Co-host? Make us a cool widget? We could get the word out to a lot more people. Look what Arlee, Jeffrey, Alex, Jen, Candace, Karen, Talli and Stephen have done with the A to Z! 1283 bloggers!

We could do that for HSP Awareness, too.

Whaddya think? Should we rebel it? HSP's unite?

~ Olivia J. Herrell

On the sadder side of life, I attended a visitation tonight for a friend's son. He would've been twenty-seven in a couple of weeks. We arrived early and let the mother, father and family go in alone to see him. It was the first time since his passing.

It was heart-wrenching. Guttural. Raw.

My heart bleeds for my friend, his father. It bleeds for the young man's mother. His brothers. His friends and family. For the life that was taken too soon.

Drugs kill. Whether prescribed or not. So does alcohol. They took my brother at thirty-two, a combination of alcohol and Tylenol. There's nothing pretty about it. Nothing at all.