Highly sensitive parents are told they just need better boundaries, better routines, better self-care. But what if the problem isn’t discipline?
What if the problem is that many sensitive people were taught, very early, that their needs were inconvenient?
The Cultural Lie Behind Sensitive Burnout
Recently, I joined Lori L. Cangilla, Ph.D. of Singularly Sensitive for a Substack Live conversation about the upcoming Selfworthy HSP Summit I’m hosting May 28-30.
We talked about highly sensitive people, nervous systems, parenting, burnout, embodiment, belonging, and the ways sensitive people slowly learn to disconnect from themselves in order to survive.
And honestly, underneath all of it was one question:
Why do so many highly sensitive people think they have to earn the right to care for themselves?
Especially parents and caregivers. Especially the people who became experts at caring for everyone else while slowly disappearing from themselves.
Early in the conversation, before answering Lori’s question, I paused.
“I need to ground for a moment. Is that okay? Can we do a breath together?”
That moment captures the spirit of this summit better than anything else I could say…
Presence.
The willingness to pause and return to yourself.
“It’s Not Willpower”
For years, I tried helping parents practice self-care in ways that felt smaller, easier, and more accessible. We don’t have time. On the surface, that seems like the clear issue. Of course we don’t have enough time.
I shortened practices.
I offered thirty-second resets.
I suggested weaving mindfulness into everyday life.
But eventually I realized something important. The problem wasn’t time management. It wasn’t willpower.
The deeper issue is self-worth.
Highly sensitive people are constantly told that burnout is a personal failure.
That if we were more disciplined, more resilient, less emotional, more productive, we’d finally be able to keep up.
But many sensitive people learned very early that their needs were inconvenient.
Too much.
Too emotional.
Too needy.
Too sensitive.
“Someone told you your needs don’t matter.
Someone told you your feelings were unacceptable.”
So many of us learned self-abandonment as a survival strategy, and when I became a mom, I felt that pattern hit even harder.
I disappeared into caregiving.
Overfunctioning.
Burnout.
Putting everyone else first while feeling shame whenever I tried to care for myself. At a time when I needed MORE support, MORE rest, MORE care.
That contradiction is something so many sensitive parents carry.
So we disconnect from our feelings and needs. We disconnect from our bodies.
Living “From the Neck Up”
Lori and I talked about how many highly sensitive people are living “from the neck up.”
Analyzing.
Monitoring.
Managing.
Disconnected from the body.
One of my students once described it as feeling like “a head in a jar.”
And I think many sensitive people immediately understand that feeling.
It’s a trauma response.
We live in a world that overwhelms our nervous systems.
We feel more deeply.
We notice more.
So many of us learn to disconnect because staying fully present feels like too much.
But self-abandonment comes at a cost too.
It doesn’t just distance us from pain.
It distances us from pleasure.
Joy.
Intuition.
Authenticity.
Aliveness!
As Lori beautifully reflected during our conversation, many sensitive people do not need more information. They need safer ways to return to themselves.
Healing Through Choice, Not Performance
One of the things I care about most in my work is helping sensitive people reconnect with themselves through choice rather than performance.
That’s true in my yoga classes inside my trauma-informed yoga membership, The Compassion Club. In my classes, I give variations repeatedly, because I want people practicing the skill of listening inward.
Instead of:
“How far can I push myself?”
Try:
“What does my body actually need right now?”
That can be a radical shift for highly sensitive and neurodivergent people who learned that safety depended on meeting expectations.
It shaped the structure of this summit too.
Belonging Requires Welcoming Environments
During the conversation, I shared a story about my autistic son and how his more inexperienced teachers in middle school often became frustrated because he couldn’t sit still and learn at the same time. My response was:
“Teach the other kids not to be distracted.”
Because inclusivity cannot only mean forcing sensitive and neurodivergent people to constantly accommodate themselves to the world. We have got to at least meet in the middle and create environments where differences are welcomed, supported, and celebrated.
I actually think one of the signs of healing is when people stop trying to perform and start building lives that genuinely accommodate who they are.
Why I Created This Summit
This summit was created because I believe highly sensitive people need more than coping strategies.
We need spaces that encourage us to stop blaming ourselves for cultural conditioning that taught us to override our needs. Spaces that help us reconnect with ourselves.
Where sensitivity is treated as wisdom instead of weakness.
The summit follows a three-day arc:
Beliefs. We begin by questioning the stories many sensitive people carry about themselves.
Body. Then we reconnect with the body through nervous system support, compassion, movement, creativity, nature, and self-trust.
Belonging. Finally, we move into belonging. Because I truly believe one of the deepest wounds many highly sensitive people carry is isolation. This is especially true with the neurodivergent and highly sensitive parents I know who are raising neurodivergent or highly sensitive kids. The feeling that nobody quite understands them or their struggles. That they have to shut down parts of themselves in order to be accepted. Then the cycle is perpetuated. I don’t want that.
I want this summit to offer another experience entirely.
An experience of being held, seen, and embraced. So you can step into authenticity, spaciousness, presence, and leadership.
Honestly, I can’t think of anything more important right now.
A kinder future for our kids begins with kindness toward ourselves.
