I’m not an empath, I have CPTSD
Spidey senses, third eye, HSP, empathy, lucid dreams, clair-everything (voyance, audience, sentience). To me, these are all the same thing. They point to hypervigilance, or an overly-sensitive nervous system. Some people get these abilities from genetic dispositions, others get it from trauma. In my case, CPTSD. So, what's it like?
The fridge hum
There's a constant noise in my head, almost like a low-frequency tinnitus. I call it the fridge hum. It's like having appliances in your house that make a noise that you don't notice until the power goes out. I still don't know what this noise is. It's not like voices or music or anything. The only time it goes out is if I'm unconscious (only twice in accidents) or if I take valerian extract. Maybe I can hear my nerves. Maybe it's perpetual anxiety.
Sensing people in my body
I can almost always tell when someone is thinking about me, or when a decision has been made about me, e.g., for a job application. Again, this doesn't come to me as a voice or a sound. It's a literal physical sensation. For example, if my mother would want to speak to me, my lower belly would feel cold. If someone hates me, my lower back seizes up. If someone has mixed feelings about me, e.g., a crush, my face flushes. If someone wants to cross paths with me for whatever reason, my knees twitch.
Interestingly, because my late sister was hiding a disease that ultimately killed her, she never registered on my body. I don't recall any physical signal of her. It's like she was dead long before the illness took her, and I wasn't surprised when she died.
Basically, everyone I know becomes a physical sensation. So, if I went to a doctor complaining of symptoms like fatigue or backache or anything else, the tests would come back empty. I'm in good physical health, but I live with aches and discomforts that no medicine can treat.
Getting hangry
If you love me, feed me. It's that easy. I'm very, very easily drained, and the quickest way to get my energy up is with food. But snacks don't cut it, sweets make my ears ring. Junk food makes me thirsty and tired. If I'm cranky or withdrawn, make me a cup of tea or brew me some coffee. I'd be forever grateful.
Similarly, I can't start my day without knowing what I'll eat. Some work assignments make me hungry from the second I open the email. I cannot dare write any of my fiction work without a meal plan. And if I'm in a total crisis, my appetite completely disappears. It's like I flip a switch and I can't stand food anymore. That's when I drop weight scary-fast, because all my energy is on getting out of that crisis.
Interestingly, this is the opposite of the whole "make me a sandwich" idea, and it makes my relationships difficult. It might be universal, but men in Kenya automatically expect women to cook and serve them food. I can do that, but the resentment builds up slowly. One of my fondest memories was when my dad cooked for me when I was little. It happened only once, but I still long for that.
Lucid dreaming
I genuinely don't understand why people would willingly want to have lucid dreams. Why would I be awake all day, and then be awake all night? A good night's sleep is a rare occurrence for me. Even if I exhaust myself during the day, I might still have 4K surround sound dreams when I go to bed. I figure it's my way of processing what my hypervigilance picks up.
I accepted that these dreams will never go away, so I've been learning how to interpret them. Only a small fraction of my dreams are nonsense; a great majority communicate clearly to me, and quite a few come true. A simple example is when someone is trying to manipulate me, they show up as my mother in my dreams. From there, I can figure out who it is based on my interactions with them during waking.
That said, I don't dare to interpret anyone else's dreams. I can't know a person well enough to understand the symbols unique to them.
Three words that help me cope
When I was younger, I was a living, breathing sponge, picking up everything and everyone without knowing it. For example, my parents rarely argued or fought physically, but their hatred for each other meant I was constantly sick with allergies and muscle problems and things that doctors couldn't identify. When I cut contact with my family, all my ailments disappeared. I'd grown used to having blood tests and taking medications; now I can't even tell you where the nearest hospital or pharmacy is. Yes, people can literally make me sick, and I'm healthy because I limit my interactions.
Today, I'm a living, breathing sponge, picking up everything and everything, but I KNOW IT. Mindfulness means that if I feel strange symptoms in my body or have particularly vivid, disturbing dreams, I ask myself:
"Is this me?"
And 99% of the time the answer is "No."
The process goes like this:
- Do I have any reason to feel sick or stressed? No, because I’m in good health, I’ve eaten well (thankfully), I have no debts, and I’m not worried about anything at the moment.
- If it's not me, then who am I picking up? It often turns out that it's my boss that's stressed about something, or my landlord, or anyone else in my very small circle.
- Can I do anything to relieve that person's stress? Usually, the answer is also "no" because I know my boundaries. It's not my job to fix anyone else. I can only limit or manage what I'm feeling in my body about them.
This process is quite difficult because sometimes people register in other ways, like an earworm song or their actual voice (for people with very strong ill intentions). So at any one time, I'll have my fridge hum, tinnitus, back cramps, muscle spasms, an incessant song in my head, hunger pangs, sleep deprivation, plus a work deadline, food prep, house chores… I'm in deep trouble if I get a headache. It means too many things are draining me and I must shut them off before I get truly overwhelmed.
In the perfect world, people would cultivate positive energy and take responsibility for their lives. Instead, we're becoming increasingly toxic, insensitive, selfish, and worse, desensitized. I don't think this will change anytime soon, and I don't think I'll ever stop being a sponge. That's why I live on my own. Plants are much better company.
Everything becomes transactional
My self-awareness has taught me that everything has a price. If I choose to interact with someone, what will they ask of me in return? My energy is limited. If they're drawing too much and giving little, I kick them out of my life and slam the door. If it's a professional engagement, I keep an arm's length with all parties. Intimate relationships are a whole other blog post. Energy is my currency, and people often cost way too much.
Thankfully, I'm okay with solitary life. It means I have more energy to spare to write this blog or cook really tasty food or weave beautiful fictional stories. But I wouldn't wish CPTSD or hypervigilance on anyone. It's an exhausting life and few understand it. Maybe someday I'll find someone who doesn't have to get it but respects my struggles. Until then, it's a quiet, low-impact life for me.
