How Do I See?
Seeing as a Highly Sensitive Individual
Painting artist credit: Troy Alan Cox
Stop Scanning
My role as an older brother in a foreign country was to keep my little brother safe, watch out for him, and know where he was at all times. This was no easy task. From as early as I can remember, Todd was always getting in trouble. The first time I rescued him was when he set the bathroom door on fire from the inside while playing with matches. I got an award of merit for being able to stay calm enough, at nine years old, to run outside, flag down a passing truck, and cross the street to a neighbor’s house to ask them to call the fire station, which we happened to live next to.
Then there was the time he broke his arm by jumping out of the closet trying to fly like Superman, the time he got a major laceration from the swing set my dad built for us in the backyard, and the time he fell through the church roof and almost broke his back on the pulpit. I think I was partially responsible for that one by encouraging him to crawl up into the drop ceiling. We were always looking for adventures, and for some reason, off-limit spaces were our favorite.
The best adventure was riding our bicycles off base into Japanese housing that seemed like the future, or another planet, to two young American boys in the late 1970s. Being in a foreign country and carrying my duties as an older brother built within my young brain a system of always being aware. Later in life, I would learn the clinical term for this is hypervigilance: a nervous system that stays on constant alert, watching for perceived threats. It is exhausting, and it keeps a person’s brain from relaxing.
That is a Rude Habit
I can tell in an instant if something in my environment is out of place. If the natural order of a room, building, park, or beach is being interrupted by friction, I notice friction. It sounds fantastical, but here is an example of me walking through my backyard earlier this year without being conscious of it. That plant needs water. That was not like that last time. Why is that over there now? Look how much that plant grew since last week. Those stones need to be organized better. Actually, that ornament would be better served in that empty space across the yard. Look how that is growing there. Wouldn’t it be better in a more shady place? Non-stop. It never ends.
I can tell you at Epcot which way to navigate the crowd because I can see from across the walkway which traffic pattern each person is on, unless someone makes an unexpected move, which people tend to do. My friends and family know that I call myself Mr. Directions because I can always find my way back to the exact spot a second time without directions. Always, unintentionally. I can remember exactly where I parked, unless of course that parking lot is a Disney park. Then I can get us into the general vicinity, but more than likely I will walk right back to the car without even trying or taking photos of the parking signs.
“This is a really rude habit,” I was told once while in a conversation in a public place. I actually like people who are direct and say things the way they are without being rude themselves. The superpower I do not possess is deciphering subtlety or double talk. Parables leave me scratching my head. I remember she was talking to me at lunch, so we were at our own table and I could actually hear her. When she called me out on my rude behavior, I had to do a double take.
“What is a rude habit?” I asked.
“Looking over my shoulder when I am trying to tell you something. I was watching you. You did not look at me once. You looked all around the room at everyone else, but never even heard what I said, did you?”
I replied that I had, in fact, heard her. Not every word, but I could quote back most of what she had said. However, she was right. I did not know that my eyes were revealing my hypervigilance, which at the time I didn't even know I possessed. In my sixth writing in the series 'The Senses of a Highly Sensitive Person I will discuss the ancient yogic principle of single pointed focus or drishti.
Learning a new habit is difficult. I tried to become extra aware as I talked with anyone from that point forward, but it was blatantly obvious. I do not look in people’s eyes. I am constantly scanning the room. I can tell you everything going on in the room, not only what I hear and see, but what I feel. Tomorrow’s writing will be about feeling as an extra sensitive, as I refer to myself. That is what I was always called. Extra sensitive. I would toughen up one day. I just needed to grow a thick skin, I was told. Well, at almost sixty, it has not happened.
I work really hard on focusing on the person in front of me. My dad’s special power was looking a person directly in the eye and making them feel like they were the only person on the planet for that moment. I witnessed the effect on others when he did that. It did not matter if it was a busy server, a friend, or someone he had just met. He would find the moment, and those baby blues of his would lock onto their eyes. I could see the transformation in their energy happen almost instantly. They became more relaxed, and just for a moment, had a human connection.
What I See in You
My morning writing has become my late afternoon writing because I am afraid to write this and put it out into the universe for others to react to and judge. But I know from The Highly Sensitive Person’s Survival Guide by Ted Zeff, Ph.D., and the documentary Sensitive: The Untold Story by Diana Sinelnikova Harper and the Emmy Award-winning production company The Global Touch Group, Inc., that I am not alone and that each HSP expresses themselves uniquely, and it is okay.
So here goes, tears and all.
When I look directly into another person’s eyes, which I avoid doing, I do not see only their iris. I see something much more. I see past hurts, lies, loves, ulterior motives, deep shame, betrayal, loneliness, longing, and what they may not even be aware of within themselves. It is difficult to look into someone’s eyes and feel that they were hurt so badly by someone at some point that they are crying inside while smiling on the outside.
It hurts me to see when someone is saying something complimentary to me, but I sense they are plotting my demise or wanting to get something from me. I do not act on any of the information I download. I have learned to be a watcher. I am always watching. I am always seeing. I know when someone may be my friend for a while and one day betray me. I could tell within the first moment I looked behind their eyes. I can see when someone is lying right to my face. And I watch. I watch how they show up or do not. I try not to predict when or if, but allow the person to reveal themselves when they will.
I can also see if someone is a kind soul, a loving person, or has a gentleness about them. I can tell if their heart runs deep and if they are genuinely enjoying a few moments of just being with another person. It is difficult with humans because we all have wants, needs, and desires. That creates motives. Motives can be earned honestly or gained quickly through dishonesty. My mother was faster. She could tell you everything you needed to know about someone in a flat minute. And she was almost always right. That is something I should have listened to much more.
The hardest thing I see is not the age of the person in front of me, but how they will look when they are elderly, or if they will make it to elderly. I see the bone structure, muscle tension, the lines that will appear, and the person’s future face as they age. I am certain art and learning to draw the human portrait heightened that effect. But what I notice most are the person’s microexpressions. A twitch in an eyebrow, a crinkle of the nose, a twitch at the smile line, a quivering lip, or that flicker. The flicker in a person’s eye, like a light that ripples across the colors of the iris. It signals, Be cautious, Troy, or sometimes, Be trusting.
It is so intense and instantaneous that I have worked for years on keeping a poker face when trying to look someone in the eyes. It is never wrong. I can almost certainly finish someone’s sentence at least seventy percent of the time before it leaves their mouth.
I do not know if my being filled with Spidey Senses influenced my biology, but since as young as I can remember, I have had extremely light-sensitive eyes, and you will rarely find me without sunglasses on, even inside. I was also born with eyes that involuntarily twitched or shook. I remember going to the ophthalmologist as a little boy in San Diego and learning muscle-strengthening exercises for my ocular muscles. It became a cool party trick later.
So I apologize if you are speaking with me and I am looking over your shoulder for danger or things out of the ordinary, squinting at you, avoiding your eyes, or reading your thoughts before they even form.
I am trying to do better.
“The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend.”
— Henri Bergson
Troy Alan Cox
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