Building community

Exploring ways to support Highly Sensitive People in-person and online.

May 10, 2022

Welcome to my weekly newsletter building a supportive community for Highly Sensitive People (HSPs).

Upcoming event: This Thursday, at 8pm BST, I will be giving a one-hour online talk (with plenty of time for questions): Thriving as a Highly Sensitive Person: practical tips for staying grounded in an overstimulating world.

For more info and tickets, click here.

It’s hard to believe that almost six months have passed since I launched The HSP Revolution, and I’ve been delighted by how quickly the mailing list has grown, and loved reading the rich feedback in response to the posts.

From the outset, my intention was that the newsletter would serve as a foundation to build a supportive community for HSPs, and I’m now thinking more deeply about what that might look like in practice, and how to offer more opportunities to connect.

I’ll confess that at this stage I have more questions than answers, and I’ve listed some of the more obvious dilemmas below. I would love to hear what you think. But first I wanted to give a little more context to explain why community-building is so close to my heart, and share some of the lessons I’ve learned.

Highs and lows

I was born in an alternative community in Norfolk, which I remember as an idyllic place where we lived the age-old adage that “it takes a village to raise a child.” We left when I was a toddler — my mother had won a place to train as an opera singer in London. I later learned how the atmosphere had gone on to sour as an influx of newcomers brought addiction problems and trouble with the police.

Years later, while training as a clinical psychologist, I attended what were known as “psychodynamic reflective practice groups” for the entire three years of my course. This involved about 15 trainees meeting every fortnight in a room with a facilitator who said very little. I suffered social anxiety back then and I found the whole experience excruciating. It often felt like we were going around in circles as we attempted to analyse each other’s behaviour and what was happening in the group. I questioned the usefulness of this exercise, but I knew that if I was going to hold spaces for others, then I needed to learn to sit with my own discomfort.

Singing and sweat lodges

For my doctorate, I studied the power of community from a different angle — writing my thesis on the psychological benefits of group singing. But it was only in my late 20s, when I was starting to confront unresolved traumas and losses, that I began to discover the power of group work at an even deeper level.

Over a period of several years, I went to endless workshops to try to make sense of my self, experimenting with everything from group therapy sessions in nature to shamanic drumming and ecstatic dance. When I stumbled upon a sweat lodge ceremony in Oxfordshire, I finally understood what it meant to feel truly safe and held. The community there was so incredibly supportive that for the first time I truly felt comfortable being vulnerable in front of others, and never felt judged. Nobody tried to rescue me from my pain — but they did bear witness, and it was in that space that I did some of the most profound healing work on myself.

Creating sanctuaries

Ever since that time, I’ve dreamed of creating healing spaces where people could find sanctuary and learn from others on the same journey. So many people are struggling these days that the traditional model of one-on-one therapy simply isn’t workable for everyone: We need to find ways to provide support at scale. I used to imagine a field with comfortable tipis where people could come and experience a sense of safety in their nervous system. It had never occurred to me that it might be possible to create a sense of community online.

When lockdown came, I launched a series of free online workshops called “Mothers Pod” to support mums struggling with the pressures of the pandemic. That and other online groups proved to me that it’s possible to create a sense of connection and intimacy that I hadn’t imagined would be possible via a screen.

At the same time, I realise that many people are now suffering from “Zoom fatigue,” and that many of us are yearning to connect in person in a nourishing, inspiring and uplifting environment.

Suggestions welcome

I’m now contemplating the below questions, and I would love to hear any thoughts they inspire in others — whether in the comments, or directly via email.

What aspects of community would be most beneficial for HSPs? Chances to share experiences? Learn about managing sensitivity? Or overcome feelings of loneliness that affect so many? Something else?
What would an “HSP community” Look like? Should I host gatherings online? In-person events and retreats? Create a membership community with monthly opportunities to drop-in? Or some combination?
What sorts of themes might people like to work on together? Possibilities could include: setting boundaries; overcoming people pleasing; dealing with anger and other strong emotions; handling bullying; relationships and parenting.
Would there be appetite for me to do a live Q+A once a month to allow people to submit specific questions around managing and making the most of high sensitivity?
How can I strike a balance between the need to earn money and compensate myself for the time I invest in this newsletter and community-building, and the importance of making resources inclusive and accessible?
What would be the community agreements necessary to ensure that any community environment — online or in-person — remains supportive, constructive and safe.
Acknowledging that every HSP is unique, how to strike a balance that will appeal to people at different points on the introvert-extrovert spectrum, and particularly people whose sensitivity can sometimes manifest as anxiety in social situations.
How to ensure people know that their presence is enough — that there will never be any pressure to speak, unless you want to.

The HSP Revolution