posted by Eivind on January 21, 2013, at 3:43 pm
A few years ago, I was attempting to get closer with a woman I liked. We’d been working together for several years and knew one another solely on that basis, but I wanted something more personal with her. I’d been feeling a powerful sexual and romantic attraction to her for a long time, but given our relationship as peers in a work environment, I was being very deliberate in my attempts to gauge her interest in me and careful in my efforts to move things forward. When I’m attracted to someone, I tend to move slowly and gradually anyway; in this case, having lived through my share of work-related romantic entanglements, rejections, and disasters, I was eager to avoid any situation that might turn awkward for either of us.
Things seemed to be progressing in the direction I desired, albeit slowly and with frequent yellow flags, but nevertheless, I finally felt confident enough to share something more personal with her than our daily chitchat about our lives in and out of work. She knew I was a writer and that I’d had a book of poetry published because I’d spoken about it during our many visits. I decided to offer it to her and find out if she was interested enough in me to read it. I asked her if she might like to see the book, and she said she would, so I brought a copy to work and gave it to her.
I didn’t want to appear too eager or overly invested in her opinion of the book, so I didn’t bring it up again after giving it to her. One day, while we were outside walking during a break, she mentioned she’d finished reading it. Doing my best to appear as cool as possible and not betray the anxiety that had been building ever since I’d first offered her the book, I said, “Great. What did you think?” And she said:
“I think you’re abnormally sensitive for a man.”
Obviously, this was not the sort of response I was hoping to hear. It’s not the sort of response any man ever wants to hear, any time, from anyone, most certainly not from a woman to whom he’s attracted and with whom he’s just taken the supreme risk of showing his vulnerable side.
It was a painful experience for me, to be sure, but not the first. I’ve heard variations on this theme all my life:
- “Don’t be so sensitive.”
- “You’re too sensitive.”
- “You need to stop being so sensitive.”
Shy. Thin-skinned. Wimp. Pussy. Queer. Faggot. Whiner. I’ve heard all of these and more for as long as I can remember, and the message is always crystal clear: “There’s something wrong with you and you need to change it.” As if I haven’t tried. As if I could.
Sensitive boys and men are all too often treated as pariahs in a tough guy culture. Sensitive boys in particular are easy prey for bullies, whether they’re peers, older kids, or adults in positions of power and authority like parents, teachers, and coaches. I was humiliated countless times as a boy for my sensitivity, by both adults and other children. I learned to regard it as my enemy, as something that only brought me shame and scorn, and as something to keep hidden away, not only from others, but from myself.
It was simply too dangerous to my well-being to allow my sensitivity out into the open any more than I had to, so I tried to harden myself up. I got fairly good at it over time, good enough to survive through adolescence and into young adulthood, but I felt lost most of the time, and I was. That’s the inevitable price of denying any core element of who we are.
I continued to maintain an uneasy relationship with my natural sensitivity through my twenties and thirties. During that time, I was gradually transitioning into feeling a bit more comfortable with it because I’d learned that trying to deny it completely only made me sick and miserable. But I still carried the shame and the stigma of feeling and being seen as somehow “defective” as a man because of it, and I was still disowning a large part of myself and my experience as a result. I was also still being reminded by others that I was not okay the way I was and needed to change, as in this statement from a close friend after I’d confided in him regarding a problem I was having:
“You need to stop being so sensitive. I’m not judging you, but sometimes I just want to shake you and tell you to get over it.”
Same old message: You’re wrong. You’re defective. You’re weak. You’re inadequate. You need to change. You need to get over it. At least he didn’t actually shake me to help me do that. Prior experience with that sort of “help” from others tells me it doesn’t work at all.
That incident was a pretty good example of the state of my relationship with my own sensitivity as I moved into my early forties. I’d made a lot of progress toward reconciling with the softer, vulnerable, more tender parts of myself, and I was even beginning to feel more confident in giving them a voice, but I was also reminded on a regular basis that I was still just as likely to be scorned and shamed for my sensitivity as I was to be accepted and supported. Deep inside, I still felt like an outcast and a freak in a culture that defines and characterizes tenderness, compassion, and sensitivity as primarily feminine qualities. And I remained haunted by the same dilemma that had plagued me since childhood: How can I be as sensitive as I am and still be a man?
It was during that time that, quite by accident, I stumbled across some material that profoundly changed the way I saw myself and what I’d come to regard as my “curse” of sensitivity. I was in a bookstore looking for something (I don’t even remember what) when a title caught my eye: The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You. I’d never heard of this book or seen anything like it, but when I began to page through it, I knew I had to have it because this book was about me.
For the first time, someone was describing my inherent sensitivity as a positive trait rather than some sort of shameful aberration to be corrected. Furthermore, the author, Elaine Aron, described the experience of what she called a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) as the natural, inevitable result of having a nervous system that is, as she has put it, “uncommonly sensitive.” In other words, the sensitivity with which I’d been struggling throughout my life wasn’t all in my head, it wasn’t a weakness, and it wasn’t a choice. It was rooted in my physiology.
There was something else, too, something equally big, as summarized by Peter Messerschmidt in his blog post “The Challenges of the Highly Sensitive Man”:
Dr. Elaine Aron, along with other researchers studying the trait of high sensitivity, often cites the statistic that approximately 15-20% of the population fits the definition of a “highly sensitive person.” Furthermore, the indications are that equal numbers of men and women are highly sensitive.
This was more than an eye-opener for me. It was a game-changer. For the first time, someone was telling me that I could be not just merely sensitive, but highly sensitive, and still be a man. This was a possibility that had never been presented to me before, not in person and certainly not in the culture at large, and it was the first step in beginning to own my sensitivity, not just as a valuable element but a defining element of my masculine identity.
The path is still not easy. It’s an ongoing challenge to see my sensitivity as an asset rather than a weakness to be feared and hidden from others. Men and boys are already living in a no-win, double bind situation around vulnerability; it is amplified for highly sensitive men and boys. If most men lead lives of quiet desperation, they also know that society and most of the people around them prefer they keep it that way. A man or boy who shows sensitivity and expresses vulnerability is always taking a risk. Shame and scorn, whether from other males or from females, remain some of the most powerful tools for keeping men and boys “in line.” Most men are not highly sensitive, but many men are far more sensitive than they want anyone else to know.
For men like me who are highly sensitive, being who we are in the world, in our relationships, and even with ourselves is often a work in progress. We tend to need more down time than others. We have deep experiences that we need to process and understand. We need to make time and space for feelings that we may have never learned to experience and express because we were never allowed to do so. We receive and process more sensory input than most others do; consequently, we can sometimes find ourselves feeling overwhelmed in contexts that others find routine. We tend to proceed carefully, to get a sense and an understanding of the whole situation, before diving in.
These behaviors and qualities are all assets, but they frequently run counter to the values and practices of an overstimulated, Type A, 24/7 culture that wants more and more, faster and faster, all the time. This is a fundamental conflict that has a profound and often severely negative impact on all HSPs, whether male or female, and results in a lot of pain, confusion, and even physical illness. I’ve learned the hard way, as many others have, that pushing yourself “like everyone else does” when you’re a Highly Sensitive Person is like pounding nails with a microscope.
In another blog post titled “Highly Sensitive Men: The ‘Hidden’ HSPs?”, Peter Messerschmidt writes, “Society has an alarming ability to ‘steal the souls’ of Highly Sensitive Men, leaving them feeling sad and confused.” This is an experience and an ongoing struggle I know all too well. I still want to hide my sensitivity a lot of the time, and I still do. Sometimes that’s because of old fears and conditioning; sometimes it’s simple pragmatism. I know I can still be deeply wounded if I’m not careful and therefore I try to choose my opportunities accordingly. Sometimes I still get hurt when I’m open with others about who I am and what I feel (as with the female coworker I liked and the friend in whom I confided). Sometimes my feelings are so deep and acute that I can hardly bear them in private. I probably struggle as much with my feelings in private as I do when I’m with anyone else. The shame and the scorn I’ve experienced throughout my life in response to my sensitivity has been internalized deep within. I don’t need anyone else to criticize and belittle me for it now; those voices are already right here inside me.
In his article “Healing the Highly Sensitive Male”, Ted Zeff, author of The Strong, Sensitive Boy, has written, “By disowning their sensitive side, many males become half a person.” Having spent most of my life living that way, I know it’s true. I also know that, whether I allow or disallow my natural sensitivity, there’s a cost to be paid, and likely some very real pain to be felt either way, and I often stumble in the face of that choice. I still frequently feel angry when I’m actually sad because it feels safer, more manly. I still frequently pull away from others and shut down when what I really want is to connect and feel close, because I don’t have the courage or the stomach to risk the sting of being rejected or misunderstood. I still pull away from myself, most of all, because of the stigma and the fear that’s been conditioned into me, and the absence of skills never learned for being with everything I perceive, sense, and feel.
No one likes pain, and I’m no exception, but I’ve slowly come around to the belief that the pain of feeling is preferable to the pain of not feeling, and that the pain of being who I am is preferable to the pain of being what I’m not. As author Seth Mullins has written, “Sensitivity – even when it comes at the cost of great suffering – may be all that renders worth to existence in the end.” I think one of the important points he makes with that statement is that sensitivity is not the absence of toughness, but is, in many ways, the very embodiment of toughness. It takes a great deal of inner strength and resiliency to maintain your sensitivity in a world that seems to go out of its way to beat it out of you, often literally. If that’s not a demonstration of strength, courage, and resolve consistent with any reasonable definition of masculinity, I don’t know what is.
So yes, I’ll say it: I am a Highly Sensitive Man. I’m not abnormal. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m not a weakling, a wimp, or a pussy. I’m strong, passionate, and courageous. I’ll fight for what’s important to me. And I’m just as tough as any other man. I have to be, just to be who I am in a world that wants me to be something else.
And I am not alone. There are many of us. As many as one in five men, if the numbers are correct. Think about that. You know many of us. You may be one of us. Some of us are hiding. Some of us are hurting. Many of us, young and old, boys and men, are still trying to find our place in a world that is often openly hostile to our very natures. But look at that world, and try to imagine what it would be like without us. We may be scorned, shamed, invisible, and undervalued, but we are here and we are needed.
I am a Highly Sensitive Man and this world needs me, just as it needs all of its highly sensitive men and boys. Every one of us. No exceptions!
Links
Also by by Rick Belden
posted by Eivind on December 4, 2012, at 8:05 pm
Boy, it’s been a while since I wrote here. Here’s a background for why: For several years, I’ve written with the world as audience. While I’ve enjoyed that immensely, I’ve also felt a bit stretched and disconnected. I’m the kind of person who finds it hard to connect with words on a screen – I really need to be with people in the flesh. Writing for Masculinity-Movies.com was actually kind of lonely and I wanted to change that – I need people to be physically present in my life.
I’ve also wanted to make more of an impact in my homeland Norway. I’ve understood that if I’m ever going to turn my passion into my livelihood, I will need roots in Norway. Over the last several months, I’ve been focused exclusively on that.
Together with my facilitation partner Pål Christian Buntz, I run workshops, courses and Authentic Games Nights under the Authentic World Norway umbrella. In October, we put on our first ever KWML weekend workshop, and it was a smashing success. We are looking forward to hosting more such workshops in the time to come. For those of you who are still waiting for my KWML home study course, know that I haven’t worked as much on that as I liked, simply because I’ve arrived at the place of realizing that this material is hard to teach online – it’s much more suitable for experiential learning. At this point, I’m unsure whether I will ever produce it. If I have a breakthrough in my understanding of how to convey the material in an engaging way even online, I probably will.
I’ve also started coaching and will focus particularly on computer gaming addiction for young boys/men in the time to come. It’s a huge problem in today’s culture that is disempowering an entire generation and since I’ve lived that story myself, I have significant gifts to contribute.
And the big one which is simmering in the back of my mind is a Man-Woman symposium with local and international speakers and healing work in order to usher in an era of collaboration as opposed to strife. That one is huge and I will keep you posted.
I will probably write another movie review again in the not too distant future. I don’t want this site to die – it has meant a lot to many. I also know that several people are planning to post user reviews. But right now, this site is simply not the main focus of my work in the world anymore. You will have noticed that already I’m sure, but I want to make it official.
If there’s anything you’re wanting from me or the site in the time to come, please tell me below. Thanks for staying around.
Be well,
Eivind
posted by Eivind on July 25, 2012, at 8:06 pm
As a facilitator of authentic relating events here in Oslo, Norway, I have a lot of attention on communication. I want to communicate cleanly in life and use my communication as a way of creating more closeness rather than escalating discord. I also want to teach these skills to others.
I’ve been ill over the last couple of weeks. This has given me time to read a lot of stuff online. I have observed what I judge as woefully inadequate communication skills. I observe an Internet full to the brim of people spouting abuse at one another, as if the intention is discord and not a deeper sense of shared humanity. It’s really quite disheartening. What got people to communicate this way?
I have observed my own communication with others as well. Based on all of this observation, I have compiled this list of ways people try to manipulate each other in communication. Don’t do it – and don’t fall for it.
Borrowing strength from group affiliation, professional title, gender, age etc
This is an insidious and really nasty way of communicating. Here are some examples:
- “We women like/don’t like that”. In my observations, women use statements like this more frequently than men. Perhaps because men are generally more individualistic by nature? No matter our gender, it’s a dangerous statement to make, because its basic premise is that (in this example) as a woman, I can read the mind of 3,5 billion people and use their opinions to support my own. I’ve noticed that feminists use this way of communicating frequently. For some reason, feminists often speak as if they do so on behalf of all womankind and when faced with 3.5 billion people who disagree, many a unprepared man is left in shameful tatters. I suggest you proceed with caution when faced with this communications device.
- “I’m old enough to be your father. Now listen up..” Arrogance covering fear. Generally a reflection that a younger person’s resources and intelligence feel threatening and since actual communication skills or life knowledge is lacking on the part of the older person, he plays the age card like a fist to the solar plexus.
- “I’m a doctor. I get all of that. But here’s what you don’t get.” Of course you’re a doctor. We both know that. But by using that as an argument in and of itself, you put your actual knowledge and experience in question, because that is what should have provided you strength in the first place, not the title. I’m now a patient who no longer trusts I’m in good hands. For good reason.
Shared humanity threat assessment: High
Assuming I know who you are
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from authentic relating work, it’s that relationships go down the drain once people start assuming they know who someone is (e.g. their spouse of 30 years). Examples are “You are being such a…”, “You are so…”, “you always do…”.
Sometimes, assuming I know who you are may involve responding to you on the assumption that you have a certain intention, oblivious to the fact I made a false assumption. For me, there is very little that infuriates me more than being imprisoned by another person’s mistaken interpretation of my intention. If the misinterpretation cannot be clarified, I suggest you leave the conversation (it is toxic by default).
Note that a lot of the time someone makes a “You…”-statement, what they often communicate is their own character. What is their statement saying about them?
If you are vulnerable to this habit, I can more or less guarantee you that it’s harming your relationships in a massive way. Try instead to transform your language into a more authentic expression. Instead of saying “Gee, you are being so stubborn!”, try on (deep breath) “It would mean a lot to me if you saw my perspective on this point. Would you be willing to hear me out?”
Shared humanity threat assessment: High
Emotional hooks
The category above is a form of emotional hooks, but it’s unique enough to warrant its own listing. Here’s a comment on all the rest: Much of the communication I’ve seen online while ill is in my judgment emotional drivel. Well-reasoned arguments are scarce. A lot of people seem to feed on conflict. I speculate that it lets them forget their own follies for a moment. To fan the flames, a lot of people throw out outrageous taunts. And most often, the other responds in kind. Rare is the ability to just stop and consider “why?”.
And yes, this also happens in face to face relationships. In fact, this is how a woman might test a man’s willingness to protect his dignity and boundaries. She may do so to test his ability to love and protect her when she needs him to. How do you deal with it? Well, online I would simply ignore it. But if we are talking about your significant other, however, other measures may be called for – probably something outrageous and playful that expresses freedom and love at the same time.
Anyway – please try avoiding throwing out emotional hooks. They contribute to heated communication based primarily on knee-jerk reactions. And make sure you don’t take the bait when it’s thrown at you. You always define what beat you want to dance to. Trust me – the reactive dance is no fun.
Shared humanity threat assessment: Medium to high
Irresponsible use of pronouns
A lot of the time, people who convey an opinion or relate experiences from their life take special care not to use the pronoun “I”. “I” signals responsibility and that I actually have a choice in the matter. “When so and so happens, I feel like I don’t have a choice” is a completely different thing to “When so and so happens, you don’t have a choice you know?” Can you perhaps feel it just from reading it?
I already described above how using “we” inappropriately can be incredibly toxic in certain situations. For the most part, however, misuse of pronouns is a matter of personal power. When I offset responsibility for my behavior and life to an abstract “one”, “you” or “we”, I lose ability to actually direct it with power. This is manipulation by default, but it is primarily manipulation of self. And a person who manipulates himself into a victimhood-mentality is hard to connect with and prone to irresponsible and subversive communication.
Shared humanity threat assessment: Low (but high over time)
Have you been able to identify other types of manipulative language? Please tell me about them in the comments below!
