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The experience of being under water is like being in a slow-motion universe where one can fly. Movement is slow, light is faint, even sound is distant.

Being under water can be a place of utter peace for a sensitive. The water becomes a womb, and a shield against the world.

I never imagined I would experience a feeling that resembles being under water, but without the peace.

I never shed a tear in grief, until my father died, and then I spent a whole year drowning in it.

They say grief hits everyone in a unique way. But I never really knew what grief meant until I lost my father.

I had lost people before, family and friends, even as a child. I never felt true grief. The truth is, losing someone always felt like saying goodbye in the airport. We part today with a promise to meet again one day.

But that wasn’t the case when I lost my father. It was because he was weak, alone, and helpless, after being a force of nature in his youth. He wanted me beside him. Yet I couldn’t be.

I thought I had more time, that I could take care of the job and the life I had, then come back to be beside him. But I wasn’t able to do that. His passing was sudden, and it came at a time when the life I’d built was crumbling around me.

A dam doesn’t break in one sudden blow. It takes several blows to cause a crack; after that, it’s easier for more cracks to appear. Finally, the dam gives way. The collapse looks huge with that final event, when really, it had been building slowly for years.

When my dad passed away, I wanted to grieve my whole life, every day of it. That is how I ended up spending a whole year in a state of grief.

Grief takes a very heavy toll on Highly Sensitive People.

The stages that never came

Psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross described five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I didn’t experience that… at all.

I was drowning in compassion for my father, which brought in guilt and a deep sense of loss that ached to the bone.

The five stages, and the feelings they suggest, were alien to me during that time. I accepted my father was gone from the moment I heard on the phone that he had passed away. There was no denial, bargaining of any sort, or depression.

I was frozen with the emotions of guilt and ache, brought on by utter, intense compassion. Most of the time my mind was foggy; my super senses as a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) were congested.

The sounds, my observation abilities, even the smells: it all felt like I was under water.

Finding the bubbles

Feeling I was under water, I could almost see bubbles of air, large enough to fit me. I would swim between them, enter one to catch a breath. Inside the bubbles I could breathe normally, hear and see clearly, but only what was inside the bubble. Outside it, the water… it was a shield, keeping everything else distant.

When I wasn’t inside a bubble, I was swimming toward one. Sometimes I swam against the current, and it took what felt like forever before I could breathe again.

Many HSPs are known to have deeper feelings, ones that cut deeper and stay longer. Grief is no exception.

The nature of grief that I experienced was not surprising. It was consistent with what you would expect from an HSP. It was extreme compassion to the point that it hurt, with guilt and ache.

Nothing written for people like me

What was surprising is that everything I read about grief was not written for HSPs. It was written about non-HSPs and how they deal with grief. Then, when any expert is cornered, they say everyone’s grief is different.

This is a big deal, because there was no way for me to understand what was happening to me. Any material I read would make me feel like I was overreacting, which added to my guilt.

There was no acknowledgment, nothing to help me with self-permission to feel what I felt. How others grieved set a standard that had nothing to do with me and my nature. On top of that, it made me feel more burdened with being different, trying to do what “the normal” people should do.

Among the people we socialize with, either through work or relationships, there are limits we’re not supposed to cross. Crossing them makes us “too much” of something.

When all the material about grief out there asserts that position, it becomes difficult for HSPs to feel openly. They end up hurting, and they put on the mask and the face, just to make sure everyone sees them within the range of the acceptable.

Grief is bad enough. It’s hard enough to work and meet responsibilities without the extra burden of pretending we’re not feeling what we’re feeling.

I wasn’t really sure I should write about this, I tried to find research to back HSP grieving, but I couldn’t find much online.

What the research does back up is why this happens at all. A 2017 study reviewed the evidence and found that some cognitive responses, rumination among them, help explain the link between sensory processing sensitivity and psychological distress. [1]

In plain terms: HSPs don’t just feel things more, they replay them more, which is exactly why grief for an HSP doesn’t just hurt more, it lingers more.

Permission to grieve

So what is left is what I felt, and me writing about it. Maybe there’s someone out there feeling grief for one reason or another, perhaps for a loss of a life you planned and didn’t happen, or a loss of someone you really wanted to be with.

Give yourself the permission to grieve, until your heart feels lighter again, no matter how long, or how deep it goes. But, try to find the bubbles of air under the water. Don’t get lost in the darkness and surrender to the deep.

Find the bubbles of grief, and gradually use them to heal.

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If you’re an HSP and grief has ever felt like this for you, I’d like to hear it. Tell me in the comments.

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References for this article

[1] Bratholm Wyller, H. et al. (2017). Sensory processing sensitivity and psychological distress: a review of the literature. Referenced via Chao et al., “The effects of sensory-processing sensitivity and sense of coherence on depressive symptoms in university students,” PMC. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC6710689/

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What is a sensitive person, if not someone who cares deeply? And in today’s world, who doesn’t long to be cared for?

Highly Sensitive People often find their deepest fulfillment in caring for others. We speak of boundaries and self-care, we understand their importance intellectually, but at the end of the day, it is someone else’s joy that gives us our most profound experience of joy. It’s what makes others, especially the ones we love, smile and feel at ease that becomes our greatest source of happiness.

Because many sensitive people are super-feelers, we don’t just absorb the pain of others; we also absorb their joy. When we replace pain with joy for someone, we feel our own joy, and then that feeling is compounded by the joy we absorb from them. It becomes joy multiplied many times over.

It’s such a deeply felt emotion that it feels as though the whole world resonates with it, like it’s coming from the air, the earth and the sky all at once.

Who wouldn’t work very hard for that feeling?

Sensitives make exceptionally good companions for those who need care. We know how to make the people we care for very comfortable and happy. We pour everything we have. So we offer joy to others, often at the expense of our own comfort and well-being.

Surprisingly, we're often the most reliable in a crisis. When everyone else is too overwhelmed to think clearly, we're the ones who can steady ourselves, who become the source of comfort and direction for the people around us. Perhaps it's because we've always had to carry intense emotion, our own and everyone else's, so when others come undone, something in us still holds. We see the panic in the room and somehow find our way to compassion anyway, and to action.

***

A few years ago, as a daughter with two brothers, I found myself gradually becoming the main caregiver for my parents. My mother had a life threatening condition, and I stayed beside her for a couple of months as she made her recovery, rearranging my work, sleeping lightly, learning the particular choreography of helping someone heal their body. I introduced things that made her laugh, and arranged visits and talks with everyone she loved.

But at that time I worked and lived in California, and my mother insisted on staying in Egypt, so I had to leave her when she got well. I hired a caregiver to stay with her. After a few months, she dismissed the caregiver and refused to accept any help from any one else.

Then my father passed away, suddenly, and the shock and grief changed me forever. After that, I gradually came to see how much more help my mother needed, and that she wasn’t going to accept it from anyone but me, the responsibility became clearly, permanently mine.

Earlier this year, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I stayed beside her through the surgery and the treatment that followed, the early morning at the hospital, learning the names of her medications, sitting in waiting rooms doing the quiet arithmetic of good days and bad ones, offering my shoulders for those who needed a good cry while waiting like me. My mother remained calm and smiling throughout. She drew comfort from having me beside her, and that responsibility I felt was now cemented.

But sensitives are human, and as we keep giving, especially in the middle of immense heartbreak, burnout inevitably comes.

When we’re burned out and in need of care ourselves, it’s a common mistake to expect that the people we’ve cared for will care for us in return. It’s a common mistake to expect that we will receive the same level of emotional attention we provided, from those around us.

***

It seems every time I talk to another sensitive person, we always arrive at the same conclusion. We give, and when we burn out, we can’t find anyone to help care for us. On top of that, those who have come to expect our care still expect the same from us, even when we have nothing left to give.

This is how sensitives end up isolated, feeling that our life is better when we’re alone.

This is how we end up believing we don’t deserve joy of our own, like everyone else around us.

This is how sensitives hear the well-meaning advice that we should have established boundaries, that we should not have given so much, as if we set ourselves up for this, as if it’s our own fault for caring so much.

How on earth can we stop caring when it is who we are? And honestly, in a world starving for tenderness, why on earth would we want to?

I have found better advice is to care for others while also caring for ourselves, and never forget that this is equally important.

It means forgiving ourselves for the limits we could not see before we crossed them. It means stealing a day of silence not as an escape from the ones we love, but as the only way to stay present for them. It means giving ourselves permission to rest without waiting for someone else to grant it, with no guilt.

The most important thing to remember is to release the painful hope that our care will come back from the same hands that received it. It will not. With that said, we should know, sooner or later it will echo in places we never thought to look, in tenderness we never anticipated, coming home to us because the world, in its strange and quiet way, tends to balance the accounts of those who love too much.

Every kindness we gave away is still out there somewhere, small and burning, like a star whose light takes time to reach us. It is already on its way.

If this resonated with you, please do share it with someone who might like it…

Forward the email, send a text, put on the socials. It all helps.

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Like trying to save a drowning person in panic, if they get a strong hold on you, they might end up pulling you under with them.

That has become my relationship with the world in the last few months.

Everyone is feeling the heaviness of things right now. But Sensitives and Empaths feel it amplified by several degrees.

We absorb the feelings of those around us. We react to environmental changes before we can name them. Our bodies, emotionally rich, run on cocktails of hormones that attract pathogens, which drains our energy. We carry collective trauma and internalize it as our own. And to top it all, we are deeply affected by the intensity of cosmic energies hitting our planet, which has gone completely off the charts.

The intelligence built into our bodies reacts to this overwhelm faster than our minds can comprehend it. Designed to help us survive, the body initiates a process referred to as: the Empath Shutdown.

I Thought It Was Burnout. It Wasn’t.

Early on, I treated it like burnout. Rest more. Slow down. Protect your energy. Calm your nervous system. None of it worked. Things kept getting worse no matter what I tried.

To make it more alarming, old patterns I thought I had left behind came back, hard. At some point I couldn’t recognize myself anymore. Years of growth seemed to have simply vanished. Only the knowledge remained, without the discipline. I couldn’t write about it. How could I write when my own advice wasn’t working for me?

I explored different theories. Some said empaths were expanding their abilities. Some said empaths were ascending to higher frequencies. There were darker theories too, that these are orchestrated attacks on sensitives and empaths specifically. I hold no judgment toward any of these ideas. What I can say is that none of them offered me a real path through.

And regardless of the root cause, I observed my own Empath Shutdown happening either way. It was like watching a sunset in an empty desert, hypnotized by the unique colorful sky in every moment, while knowing complete darkness would follow.

What the Empath Shutdown Actually Feels Like

If you’re wondering whether what you’re experiencing qualifies, here is what empaths most commonly report:

A deep pull toward isolation. Not introversion. Not needing a quiet day. A full withdrawal from family, social life, and activities that once felt nourishing, while channeling all remaining energy into things like work instead.

Exhaustion that rest cannot fix. You sleep and wake up just as depleted. Unexplained aches surface. Old physical flare-ups return. Your body is working overtime on something your mind can’t see.

Emotional storms with no warning. You’re not just moody. You’re triggered by things that were easier to handle before, alternating between deep emotion and complete numbness.

Then come the heavier symptoms. Motivation hits rock bottom. Creativity flatlines. And the most impactful of all, the one the term is named for… intuition disappears.

When an Empath Loses Their Intuition

The origin of the term “Empath Shutdown” points directly here.

Our bodies are far smarter than we give them credit for. They don’t just carry us through the impossible things we put ourselves through. They also protect us before we even know we need it. When the body of an empath reaches a state of complete overwhelm, it resolves to keep only what is necessary for survival.

For a self-realized empath, someone who has spent a long time learning to trust that inner knowing, losing intuition is like suddenly losing your sight. Only, no one around you will understand the loss. It is like losing the ability to see color in a world that has only ever seen black and white. You will not find understanding, sympathy, or support for something others cannot perceive.

Because intuition doesn’t fail all at once, it’s difficult to spot clearly. But slowly, you start to feel lost. The internal compass you relied on starts pointing in wrong directions. You can’t tell where you’re going. You don’t know who to trust. You, once so quick to sense a lie or a betrayal, now find that everyone else sees the truth before you do.

I have always felt people’s emotions, their undercurrents, the gap between what they say and what they mean. As my intuition wavered, I began to see the world the way everyone else does, without that deeper layer of feeling.

And what I saw, when I looked at the people closest to me through that unfiltered lens, was that they were focused entirely on their own needs and plans. It made me think, what about mine? I have always made my loved ones my priority. But who has made me theirs?

When I could feel their pain and struggle as my own, that question didn’t seem critical. But without that connection, those needs surfaced sharp and undeniable.

Only empaths are capable of unconditional love.

Without us, I don’t think humanity would be aware of the concept. But you cannot give what you are not feeling, and you cannot feel it when your intuition has gone dark.

Finding a Way Through

There is a remedy to the Empath Shutdown. But like everything that touches the empath experience, it is not one-size-fits-all.

The goal is to stabilize enough for the body to begin healing itself.

This might seem simple, but you would be surprised how much you neglect what is good for you when you reach this state. I’ve known this feeling before, being stretched beyond my limits. I kept reminding myself: this is the design, it’s not a mistake.

Sufi teachings describe it as the emptying/ takhliya, carving your inner world far deeper, hollowing you out, before the sweetening or adorning/ tahliyah, filling you back again, this time with light. I felt I was being hollowed out, and I kept reminding myself to trust the process instead of resisting.

What worked for me had both a hard side and a healing one. Wisdom, I’ve come to believe, always lives somewhere between two extremes. So I accepted what was happening, even when it felt like going backward instead of forward.

The hard part: I fought everyone around me. A version of me emerged that I hadn’t seen in years, the one who drove me to political activism in my early adulthood, the one who could walk into a war and come out on top. It was messy and uncomfortable and necessary.

Someone had to make me a priority and fight for me. No one did. So I did.

If you follow my poetry on Into The Flow, you know that spiritual surrender is the journey I’m on. Fighting might seem to contradict that. But imagine when the current comes not as a stream but as a flood. I felt fighting was necessary to clear the path, even without knowing yet what it was clearing for. This older, fiercer version of me felt necessary for the moment.

The healing part: I realized that my sensitivity has a hunger. Specifically, a hunger for beauty. Not beauty as optional. Beauty as survival. Scenic beauty. Physical beauty. Moral beauty. Emotional beauty. Mental beauty. The beauty of a piece of music, a kind exchange between strangers, a meal that someone made with love.

When I stopped treating that hunger as a luxury and let myself binge on it, without guilt, without rationing, I started to heal.

The foundation: I found in spirituality and faith a bedrock. I couldn’t feel the warmth and light the way I once had. But I could feel the soft warm rocks under my feet. And that was enough to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving.

What I Want You to Know

Empaths are far more resilient than the world gives us credit for.

They can throw cosmic forces at us. They can exhaust us, disorient us, and dim the light around us, still, we will find our way through.

We fill the world with something it could not generate without us. And we will keep filling it with that one thing only we can offer: unconditional love.

If this piece reached something in you, you are not alone — and there is more where this came from. High Seas Mind exists for exactly this: the deeply feeling, the quietly overwhelmed, the ones still finding their way back to themselves. Subscribe to stay close.

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There are people in this world who notice the shift in a room before a word is spoken. Who carry the weight of things no one else even sees. Are you one of them?

Feeling overwhelmed? The relentless pace of time, the weight of everything — is it taking its toll?

You set out each day with the best of intentions. But the winds come from every direction, each carrying its own noise. You brave yourself through what needs to get done — as though standing in an open field with a hurricane bearing down, yearning for a moment of stillness at the end.

A heart is a heavy thing to carry in today’s world.

You feel everything moving through you — the beauty, the sorrow, the quiet weight of what others leave behind without noticing. Yet the world rushes past, indifferent to the storm you navigate every single day.

We look at the unbothered ones with something like disdain. And yet — something in us quietly envies them. The way they move without the weight. The way they greet each morning fully, effortlessly, unburdened.

When scientists used the word “sensitive” to describe 20–30% of the human population’s brains, something in people lit up with recognition. What most didn’t realize is that scientists meant it the way they’d describe an instrument — not a feeling.

A sensitive instrument collects more information. It’s more accurate. And so is the sensitive brain.

It’s why you feel deeply. Think deeply. Analyze deeply — always searching for meaning. Your brain doesn’t skim the surface — it gathers the subtlest signals others walk right past and processes all of it, deeply, constantly, even while you sleep.

The way a still pond catches the reflection of the whole sky.

You can’t turn off that depth. And no one sees the world’s meaning like you do because of it.

As an HSP myself, I used to wonder why sensitives carry such a bone-deep concern for the world. So I looked for an answer, and what I found was beautiful.

Sensitivity isn’t unique to humans. It exists across hundreds of species. And across every one studied, sensitives shared one distinct behavior: they pause before acting. They observe — longer, and more deeply, than anyone else.

A wolf standing still at the forest’s edge while the pack charges ahead. A bird circling the feeder twice, reading the shadows, while the flock dives straight in.

This lead to sensitives across species getting a shared nick name: The Observers.

Communities without their observers faced devastation when danger arrived. The sensitives were the margin between survival and wipeout. In every species, there are those who rush. And then there are the sensitives.

From the outside, you might look like someone living in feelings and ideas. But inside, your brain is building patterns, mapping connections, cataloging details across multiple layers at once. Noticing the shifted wind. The unspoken emotion. The thing that felt slightly wrong before anyone else registered it.

You were built to see what others miss. And for that, your brain needs time — to sit with things, find their meaning, build certainty before it moves.

The sensitive brain was built to be the last line of defense — the final, most certain play in a species’ survival.

That’s not a metaphor. It’s a role that is felt — carried as weight, as duty, as a pull toward a purpose you may not always have words for.

Others may not understand that depth in you. Not because something is wrong with you — or with them. Simply because their brains were built for something different.

The world faces chaos today that feels designed to overwhelm — faster than anyone can think, faster than anyone can act. For sensitives, this lands like a typhoon. The energy it takes just to move through an ordinary day can feel like draining your very life force.

In times like these, there is something you need to hear:

You were made for times like this.

Sensitives are the observers of their species. And once you truly understand that — you can settle into it, instead of fighting it.

So how are you fighting it? It usually shows up one of two ways:

1. Following everyone else’s rushed pace.

2. Diving into difficult events at the same depth as everyone around you.

Your brain was not built for either.

When the world is in chaos and you fixate on the details of painful events, that depletion you feel is not weakness. It’s your brain sending you a signal: this is not the right level to focus on.

While others immerse themselves in the details of events, you need only the headlines and snippets to know the nature and subtleties of it, to catch the full emotions happening. You need to see the big picture, through other events, other places, what else is happening everywhere else at this time in addition to this event that everyone is focused on.

Think of the wolf standing back, watching the whole valley, while every other wolf rushes in. The mental pain is the signal for you to zoom out — to make sure this moment isn’t hiding a larger danger gathering elsewhere.

That is not a flaw. That is the design.

When everyone zooms into the small picture — you need to zoom out to the big picture. There, the painful that everyone is zoomed into is only part of the picture. When everyone fixes on the big picture — you lean into the quieter signals. You complement what everyone else sees.

You’ll know you’re in the right level of detail because it will simply feel more like yourself. It will feel comfortable.

If you must disconnect for a break, do that. However, now that you know your role and how it plays an important part, don’t shut your gift down and completely disconnect.

It isn’t always easy to hold your own pace, and do what feels like swimming against the tide. Find your people — other sensitives where real connection doesn’t require explaining yourself. That will help you hold your ground.

You were made for this. You just needed to understand why and how to do it.

Can you imagine someone who gets burned every time they touch a hot surface, yet keeps touching it because everyone else does?

That’s what happens every time you abandon your pace and follow the crowd. Your body and brain are not punishing you — they are guiding you. Listen to them.

As you learn to do that, you grow into who you were always intended to be — The Human Species’ Observer.

Be the eagle that stands at the back watching the whole valley while other eagles chase what moves.

As a human, you can do something no other species can — create. Art, science, ideas, businesses, communities… You can take what you come to see and give it a form, your gift embodied to the world.

Your brain will do its work faithfully, even when you doubt it. Let it. Believe in it.

Carry the weight — the duty, the pull — but don’t let it consume you. You lead the richest of lives. You enjoy sunsets more deeply than most. You stop for the first spring blooms. You hear the silence after rain and feel it mean something.

Your cadence is slower — but you are not falling behind. You are exactly where you were meant to be.

The ones who change things have never been the ones who moved the fastest. They’ve always been the ones who saw the clearest.

That has always been you.

Be who you were meant to be: an observer among humans.

Find your community. Your empathy is meant to create the strongest communities.

A heart is a heavy burden. You’ve always known this. What you’re learning now is that you were never meant to carry it alone.

If you haven’t found a community yet, start here. Join the chat. Let’s begin conversations on how to support each other.

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There has never been a more important time to understand why your sensitivity and empathy matter.

You already know your sensitivity is unique.

You’ve been shaped by a body and a life experience unlike anyone else’s. Like your thumbprint, there is no other you.

Categories and labels we talk about aren’t meant to define you. They’re here to help you connect. To find common ground on some levels, where we can share, benefit, and support one another.

Here’s my favorite way to picture all of us together: we’re each an instrument in a vast orchestra. Together, we create melody, rhythm, and polyphony. When we’re resonating, we become the symphony of the universe. You’ve felt that resonance—you know its beauty.

And you’ve also felt when it falls out of sync, and the ugliness that follows. Yet, we would never see the light without the darkness. We wouldn’t know the beauty of music, if it wasn’t for hurtful noise.

As an empath, I feel a stab when I see someone on social media declare that a person deserved death for showing empathy. For me, it hurts anytime a human is dehumanized.

That built-in empathy within whispers: it could have been me…

***

It’s important to clarify though, what life is like for an Empath.

People sometimes think of empaths as bleeding hearts, and then seem surprised by how they act. Empaths often have very unpredictable natures—because of their empathy. Empathy doesn’t judge—whether someone is all good or all bad; it lets you step into their place and feel what they feel inside, mirror it, and even act it out sometimes.

No one is perfect, each of us is unique, there will always be a mix of good and bad within each one of us. That is precisely why empathy unites and connects us. Creating this collective conscious is the power of empathy—the very thing that makes it an indispensable ability for humanity’s future.

Most humans aren’t born with brains wired for empathy. But empaths are. Their nervous systems are highly tuned to connect. Empathy is hardwired—a gift for sympathy. And they long to teach that gift to everyone.

Empaths are estimated to be 1–3% of the population.

On the far other end of the spectrum, psychopaths and sociopaths are born unable to ever acquire true empathy. They may learn to imitate it cognitively, often to manipulate rather than to sympathize. They, too, want to teach everyone—to see empathy as unnecessary.

Psychopaths and sociopaths are estimated to be 1–3% of the population.

These numbers speak about balance—between the light and the dark, between empathy and its absence. And they speak just as powerfully to those born outside these two groups, who must choose whether to cultivate empathy or not.

If you’re feeling alone, it helps to remember that Highly Sensitive People (HSP), the broader group to which most empaths belong, represent 20-30% of the population. This paints a more hopeful picture—one where sensitivity and empathy have the numerical upper hand. Like a hard-wired support group primed for the difficult mission.

Looking at the laws that govern the world, and the majority of the people who live in it, empathy among everyday people is still considered the norm. We only need keep that up for a future that feels uncertain right now.

So, what can we do—especially those of us who feel things deeply—to nurture that momentum empathy has gained?

Let’s think strategy for a moment here…

Psychopaths are masters in manipulation; their charisma combined with their ruthlessness allows them to achieve their goals for control and money. The striking part is that their aims are consistently aligned with only those two ends.

Winning against psychopaths can’t be achieved by trying to beat them at their own game. The best option is to bring them to a different game. The game where they are disarmed and have consistently lost in the past: the game of empathy.

The more empathy the masses practice, the more people care for each other, the more power the people have. The more weakened psychopaths become.

There are two different types of power, one with empathy and one without. One with resonance that travels throughout the universe, and one that doesn’t. Which one do you think is stronger?

Every time I hear someone say their empathy and sensitivity are a curse, I wonder if they see the bigger picture. Every time I hear an empath speak of taking a spiritual path that has nothing to do with the world, I wonder again.

A self-aware empath knows they don’t have to save the world or protect humanity on their own. They know that when things are hard, the path forward is to focus on three things:

1. Self-care.

2. Caring for those immediately around them.

3. Doing what they can for everyone else.

You are responsible for how you emotionally react to cruelty, but you are not responsible for why cruelty happens. You need to focus on how to keep your empathy alive and well.

Don’t suppress your empathy, don’t fatigue it;

And most of all … don’t break.

Here are some prior articles for self-care to learn to regulate:

How to avoid empathy fatigue;

How to Shield from harmful energy;

How to stop absorbing emotions from others;

and how to get proper rest.

Like a bird, sing of your empathy to everyone. Teach it to anyone who will listen. Apply it to your life and see how to bring more of it to the world. That is what you can control. The rest is out of your control.

The joy of being part of the universe’s symphony, hearing it sometimes, feeling its beauty and joy—that is the biggest reward. That is why sensitivity and empathy are a gift.

It is also precisely why, now more than ever, they are the essential instruments for the future we are creating.

Your perspective is a crucial part of this map. If this piece stirred something in you—a recognition, a question, a different shade—I warmly invite you to share it with us all here.

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How Can You Draw Water From a Wall?

Yes… a wall, not a well.

This was the hardest thing I’ve written on Substack so far.
I tried to write it for six weeks and failed every time.

Not because it was deeply personal.
Not because it was unusually complex.

After a long reflection, I realized the resistance was the topic itself.

Can you squeeze water out of a rock?

That is what Empathy Fatigue feels like.

The New Excess

Lately, I’ve been reading Substack posts and genuinely enjoying the intellectual breadth and depth available here.

Almost daily, I found myself spending two or three hours absorbing topics that draw me in, written by people I truly enjoy connecting with.

This kind of unbounded binging on creative writing is new to me.

I’ve binged on very large books before—finishing them in a day or two—but a book always ends. When it’s done, I return to my life.

Substack doesn’t end.

My mind—hungry to learn about anything and everything—gets fed every single day. Experiencing this freedom for the first time, I didn’t hold back. I filled every moment I could spend on Substack.

I forgot the golden rule:

Too much of anything is not a good thing.

A Burnout Type I Didn’t Recognize

Ah well… the result was what many would call burnout.

But this wasn’t a familiar type.

And I’ve become something of an expert on burnout types over the years.

It felt as if my mind had been replaced with rocks. I would look at essays and articles, and the words simply wouldn’t land.

Even worse, my stomach began to react.

Someone might say,
“You’ve had your creative fill—now it’s time to write.”

Nope.

When I tried to write, the same thing happened.

The rocks returned.
My stomach turned.
My bones ached.

When the Body Speaks First

I’ve had similar symptoms before—usually when I absorb energy that isn’t good for me.

I’m what they call a Physical Empath. I experience emotional overload somatically, through my body.

But this was new.

The blockage appeared only when I consumed writing—and when I tried to write. Trying to release this energy through daily practices and meditation didn’t work either.

There was no forcing my way through this.

There was only one option:

Let it move through me and see where it went.

The Practice of Disappearing On Purpose

Over the years, people close to me have complained about my disappearing acts.

I cocoon when I’m overwhelmed.
When I’ve taken on more than I can chew—which, unfortunately, I do often.

To protect my relationships, I’ve learned a practice that I try my best to stick to:

Make cocooning constructive.

Constructive here means applying the same planning and preparation we use for a vacation from work.

I notify those around me that I’ll be taking time to myself.
I state what I will respond to—and what I won’t.
I send a note before disappearing, and a note when I return.

This practice helps set expectations.

Disappearing has cost me some relationships. I’ve come to accept that there will always be people who don’t understand why I need space—even when you explain it gently and clearly.

The cost can be a connection lost. And if it’s someone too close, it can mean that relationship will require additional energy.

I share this for those who struggle with taking time for themselves.

Naming What Was Happening

This time, the cocoon served a deeper purpose.

It gave me the quiet I needed to finally diagnose that heavy feeling of “rocks” in my head.

I needed to know its source—and how it penetrated through my daily self-care.

It turns out, I wasn’t just tired. I was experiencing something very specific:

Empathy fatigue.

What Empathy Fatigue Is

Emotions are biological. Like muscles, overuse can damage us.

Practicing too much empathy taxes the empathy system itself. If we continue to pressure our ability to feel, we hurt ourselves.

Empathy fatigue looks different for everyone, but there are recognized patterns.

Emotional symptoms
Numbness, detachment, reduced empathy; irritability, resentment, anger; hopelessness or guilt—often an internal shutdown to prevent further overload. (1)

Cognitive symptoms
Trouble concentrating, intrusive thoughts about suffering, cynicism, or a darkened worldview. (2)

Physical symptoms
Chronic fatigue, insomnia, headaches, nausea, appetite changes. The body mirrors emotional strain. (3)

Behavioral symptoms
Avoidance, withdrawal, self-isolation, disengagement from responsibilities. (4)

Why This Matters

These signals aren’t benign.

Ignoring empathy fatigue turns a temporary overload into chronic emotional, physical, and relational damage.

Without intervention, it erodes mental health, performance, and connection—creating a vicious cycle.

If we don’t stop to refill the well, we risk:

Mental health decline
Anxiety, depression, despair, worsening cognitive fog.

The physical toll
Chronic stress, insomnia, hypertension, gastrointestinal issues.

Relational and professional fallout
Irritability, withdrawal, absenteeism, total burnout—at work and at home.

What Helped Me Recover

Finding my way back aligned with much of the advice already out there.

Boundaries and Balance

Set firm limits on emotional exposure. Say no to draining interactions. Schedule intentional breaks. Balance what you give with what you receive.

Applying this, I disconnected from Substack.
I also disconnected from any attempt—by anyone—to drag me into a “deep discussion.”

Like a wounded whale, I stayed in shallow waters while I healed.
No diving. No exploration. Just quiet time and soothing teas.

I avoided the news. I watched fantasy series instead—especially Pacific Asian ones, where visual aesthetics and slow cadence are deeply soothing.

Inside my cocoon, I carefully curated what was allowed—and what wasn’t.

Self-Care

Daily Self-Care Practices

Deep breathing, nature walks, or visualization techniques like imagining a protective bubble or “cord-cutting.” Many find solace in journaling or salt baths for aura cleansing.

Self-care didn’t prevent this state. But it softened the symptoms during recovery.

Salt water helped when everything felt too much.
Meditations with beautiful scents and LoFi tunes restored some balance.

Yet, there were surprises, which taught me something new.

In this state, visualization techniques became incredibly difficult—it felt like trying to lift a truck. While on the other hand, unexpected imagery appeared in my visualizations that I didn’t consciously create: light, shapes, forms … it brought comfort and joy as I healed.

But What About Responsibilities?

At this point, you might be wondering:

Are empaths, or people with empathy recluses?
Can they hold jobs?
Can they run households and care for others?

Of course they can.

People need time for many reasons. When it’s empathy fatigue, again - the key is tailoring the disappearance.

Guilt can be a barrier to stepping away. Sometimes the cost feels high—a strained relationship, a risk taken. This is why managing how we take a moment away makes the biggest difference, not just to our well being, but to better outcomes for those very things.

The Constructive Cocoon

If we understand why we need to disappear, we can plan it.

Think of it like taking vacation from a job—you prepare for it.

For me, the source was Substack. The symptoms appeared when I used it.

So I disappeared from Substack.
Everywhere else, things stayed mostly the same—just avoided some topics.

Sometimes the source is work.
Sometimes it’s caregiving.
Sometimes it’s not something we can pause.

In those cases, planning takes longer—but it’s still necessary.

Listening to my body, my mind, and my heart is how I build that constructive cocoon.

A Closing Reflection

Many ignore the signals from their body, mind, and heart—and keep pushing.

That’s how we slowly build isolated worlds around us just to feel peace.

This is where many of us are today.

If you’re reading this and feel quiet recognition in your body, that’s not an accident.

Sensitivity always speaks softly first.

Before burnout.
Before withdrawal.
Before numbness.

The cocoon isn’t a failure.
It’s a healthy response.

The question isn’t whether you need it—but how gently you’ll allow yourself to build it.

I hope these words, these techniques, and my experience give you some insights to consider:
Where do you need to pace yourself?
Where do you need a break?
Where do you need some personal cocoon time—and how are you going to manage it?

If you have advice to share, share it in the comments.

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This post is for the “super feelers” among the Highly Sensitive, the ones who feel everything deeply, those who absorb emotions from others, the Empaths.

In yesterday’s post, I invited you to consider starting to overcome boundaries, so you might learn to live more fully. Today, I want to share some gentle tactics and tips that can help you venture into those high seas—whenever you feel ready to test the waters, at your own pace.

Releasing boundaries isn’t about leaving yourself exposed; it’s about freeing yourself from limits that hold back your growth. As healing unfolds, we naturally begin to reach toward the world, longing for a deeper, more engaged experience.

The goal is to learn to sense what could cause harm, protect ourselves from it, and be able to walk forward untouched. But here’s the important part: we must learn to engage differently than we did before.

With skills like this, there’s peace in knowing you’re safe now. There’s peace in trusting that what hurt before won’t happen again, because you are more prepared, more aware, even trained.

What follows might seem unusual to someone who doesn’t share the gifts of empaths. But if you have these gifts, I think you’ll understand—and I hope you find something here that helps. If so, ask me questions in the comments, and share your experiences so we can benefit each other.

Seeing

Many of us Highly Sensitive People or Empaths—have a special, intuitive ability often nurtured on our own. Empaths often report sensing others’ energy and intentions through heightened emotional and intuitive perception. This ability stems from hyper-responsive mirror neurons, which enable deep resonance with people’s feelings, postures, and electromagnetic fields generated by the brain and heart. ​[1]

You may recognize this: entering a room and sensing its energy, or meeting someone and instantly knowing whether to connect or step back. These perceptive gifts are shared among many sensitive and neurodivergent people.

Yet with a little focus and intention, empaths can often go deeper.

If you sense a room’s type of energy, can you tell where that energy comes from? Is it from a person present, a past event, or something else?

When I ask, some empaths know immediately. Others aren’t sure. In that case, my next question is: Have you tried to know? Set your intention, focus, and listen. It may take more than one try, but most empaths reach a clear answer—it simply appears in their mind.

This approach is rooted in a simple truth: your focus and intention can help uncover strengths you didn’t know were there. It’s about life energy—learning to move with it, understand it, and trust yourself within it.

This is meant to grow your confidence in what you’re sensing.

To recognize what could hurt you, you first need to see it. You have the ability to sense it—trust that!

If a person or a conversation, a word, or just thin air, makes you uneasy, acknowledge that feeling. At its core, it’s energy. Many empaths sense this, but some learned to ignore it due to social norms or other reasons. Uncover that sense again; let it be your compass.

A word to the wise: start small. Build your confidence over time. Be open to mistakes—this is fine-tuned empowered intuition, and while it works most of the time, it’s okay to be gentle with yourself as you learn.

If you’d like more examples or want to explore this further, please leave a comment below. I’d love to hear from you and continue the conversation.

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Shielding

If you saw a ball flying toward your face, what would you do? Step aside, or raise a hand to shield yourself? These are good, instinctive responses when you sense something harmful coming your way.

Shielding is the first step to building your off switch, to use it when you need it.

Whether it’s a person, a situation, or a remark—it’s all energy. And if something feels like it could hurt you, shielding is simply a very basic way to care for yourself.

Once you recognize an energy that makes you uncomfortable, create space. Step out of the room, change tables in a café, take a few steps back. If you must stay, you might avoid eye contact or turn your body away. Listen to what you’re sensing, and respond—just as you would to that ball in the air.

You can also place a physical barrier between you and the source: place a large object, close a door, cross your arms, or even take a brief break in the restroom to clear the energy before it becomes overwhelming.

When you sense energy that troubles you, try clearing it. Imagine that energy like a dust cloud or a scent for example:

• Open a window and let fresh air flow in.

• Light incense or use a calming scent.

• Wash it all away with an epsom salt bath or shower.

• Speak positive words aloud to fill the space with your own energy.

• Pray or meditate.

• Shake it off, jump, or walk.

• Practice breath work and grounding: take deep breaths, visualize roots going into the earth, or repeat a gentle phrase like, “Energy that is not mine returns to its source.”

• A practice of solitude time is a good practice to restore balance when it’s needed.

Energy shielding is a rich topic—one we can explore more on another time. It often involves visualizing a protective light around you, or a mirror that reflects energy back.

But what if something comes suddenly, before you can see it? See this as a chance to learn. Ask yourself: can I sense beyond the immediate moment?

This might sound unusual, but some empaths can feel when they’re being thought of or spoken about, from anywhere. Some sense an intention to harm them before it takes shape in time. Maybe you’re one of them—you won’t know until you gently explore.

If you can see it coming, trust yourself, and act on it reasonably.

These techniques will become like reflexes for a muscle, once trained, they become effortless.

Life Happens

We can all become seers and learn the most sophisticated shields, but life always finds a way to happen. Sometimes, despite our abilities, we’re taken by surprise.

Big things can happen. This guide is meant for daily living—to help you re-engage with the world without having to disengage people.

Others can do what they do. You can learn to take the energy of a moment and dissolve it into nothing, if you choose.

Empaths are capable of beautiful, profound things—but it starts with self-care and awareness. It begins with trusting what you sense, and learning how to protect your gentle heart.

What once felt like a scary, draining world can slowly become a garden. A place where you can not only dissolve pain to nothing, but—in time—transmute it into joy.

I finally can say these words, because I’m proof that all of this works!

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Viewing point where the Nile River meets the Mediterranean Sea in Egypt.

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Looking at pictures of places where the river’s water meets the sea’s salt water. The colors of the water are different, the boundaries are clear.

Boundaries have been on my mind.

Perhaps because it’s cold here in the northern hemisphere. Perhaps because it’s time to take a break at the end of the year and reflect.

Boundaries are meant to protect.

People throughout history would protect their peace by protecting their space. Now we do it on an individual basis.

When one person establishes boundaries does it really count as protection, or is it the definition of isolation? Is it the best way to divide a people, a community, down to its individual members. Did we ever really have true communities before?

Why establish boundaries?

Before I became aware that I’m an empath, and learned to manage what it means, I lived every day in survival mode. Real traumas happened to me, I was so overwhelmed they made no difference in my daily life. I relied on strength to keep going.

Working non stop, my mind was doing incredible things. It worked on its own, my heart was elsewhere, silenced. My emotions were like an ocean under a thick cover of fog.

I still remember those difficult days, when breathing felt like a hard chore. I would hear my breathing like it was a foreign sound, not mine. Slow, constrained, and loud. Every time I breathed in my heart ached, but my body kept moving forward.

Gradually, the ties to people faded and became less of a concern. It wasn’t about being overwhelmed anymore, it was about coping to keep the load from exceeding my ability to bear it.

Peace was only found in distance and solitude.

The emotional wounds to my mind and body were becoming more real, the scars were starting to show on my soul.

I wasn’t alone in solitude, I had the best of company. The company that healed and loved without control.

Is full-time solitude the answer?

If we are applying boundaries correctly, why does it still feel like something is missing? Why do people still manage to come too close and leave an empty space when they’re gone?

Why do I find myself going back to silencing my heart, pulling the fog over my emotions just so I can return to my solitude, after someone is gone. To control my boundaries? That can’t be how they work.

Are boundaries meant to keep people away from the start?

Are boundaries meant for me to keep my emotions in check?

For me, life’s joys are in deep connections with people. But, where are those people?

Are boundaries meant for the right time and place only?

It’s time to lift the fog and swim in the high seas of that emotional ocean. That is what I set out to do, and I have to recall the lessons of swimming in the open sea.

There, waves and currents come from everywhere.

One minute you’re being pushed forward, another you’re being pushed under.

It feels good to think and react at the same time. Mind, heart, and body working together at the same time. You move on. There are more waves coming and more currents to navigate.

It’s safe to stand still only when you’re catching your breath—when you finally make it to the surface after being underwater without any.

Then you have to keep moving on.

The problem is dwelling too long.

Life is not as direct as the sea; it doesn’t show its currents and waves clearly.

It seems in life nothing is happening, when everything is happening, if we take our next stroke, if we push forward with no fear.

Where are those boundaries when we’re swimming out there in the open ocean, in the high seas?

I’m starting to think I only need them when I get home at night, which is where I go to rest and sleep.

Perhaps that’s the lesson, it’s time to break down the boundaries. It’s time to be whole and live fully …

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As we explore the human side of AI, it becomes just as important to talk about how people will continue making a living alongside it in the future.

I was reminded of my unique position while reflecting on this. As a high-scale Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) and Empath in the tech industry, I also possess deep, firsthand experience in Big Tech monetization.

My career path has given me a multi-faceted view of this ecosystem: I headed the product side of YouTube’s revenue share, which distributes profits to creators. I then moved to the opposite side, leading audience analytics for Google Ads to empower advertisers worldwide. Finally, I enabled subscription-based monetization for Google’s products through Google One.

Through these experiences, I acquired an in-depth, multi-angle understanding of the financial relationships between users and products, and how they lead to the astronomical profits for which Big Tech is known.

I believe it is crucial for those of us who understand this space to share our perspectives and spark genuine conversation.

I hope this write-up reaches those eager to participate in that discussion.

The Consumer Question

Currently, economies in many countries, including the US, are facing significant headwinds. Consumer spending has slumped after long periods of high inflation, widespread layoffs, and other persistent factors.

Eager to capitalize on AI, many companies have frozen hiring and initiated layoffs to justify their investments in the technology. If we continue on this trajectory, all indicators point to a future where more and more people will be out of work.

This raises a crucial question: if most people are unemployed, who will be left to buy the products that companies are selling?

Here’s a simple truth about business:

The wheel of profit only turns because of consumers.

In any economy, consumer demand drives production, activity, and growth. Even in complex systems with endless layers, it all comes down to what people actually buy. Consumers are the foundation of economic health.

So what happens when those consumers can no longer afford to buy products?

What happens when there’s only a few large companies left to do business with each other? Can these few companies really survive, let alone thrive?

A Brief History of UBI

Universal Basic Income (UBI) isn’t a new idea. It grew from the belief that giving people money directly is more effective than building heavy bureaucracies. Plenty of pilot programs have tested it. And one pattern stands out: people don’t waste UBI.

Study after study shows that people spend UBI on essentials: housing, food, basic needs.

In these programs, people don’t quit their jobs to pursue their dreams. They simply gain a little breathing room.

So will UBI solve the deeper problem of consumers having no money to spend? The evidence is the opposite of that. But tech companies like the idea because having someone else—ideally the government—pay the bill sounds far better than cutting into their own profits.

Challenges with UBI

For companies to stay healthy, they need people who can function as buyers. UBI isn’t enough to replace the income needed to purchase most goods. That is evident from prior experiments.

One argument is that UBI would cover basic needs while people are trained for new skills. But the question then is: Train for what? What work will be left at what time?

Even plumbing and electrical services are eventual targets for automation. What roles remain safe in a timeline comfortable enough for people to respond? How many careers and professions have to suffer as those adjustments happen organically - without pre-planning?

Profit Sharing Frameworks

Some proposals advocate for ways to distribute the financial benefits generated by AI more equitably, considering that AI systems will contribute substantial economic value and profits in the future.

One concept includes profit-sharing frameworks.

One approach would allocate revenue generated by AI tools to creators, users, or contributors who provide data or content that trains AI.

Following this approach, continuous data generation for new applications presents another profit-sharing opportunity. Consider biological data for medical breakthroughs.

More Ideas

Taking a different angle, profit sharing could be based on usage. Today, most social media platforms offer video views for free, relying on users to provide the gift of viral moments without compensation. Perhaps people should share in the profits if they spend their time on these platforms viewing content—after all, that engagement is precisely what makes one platform more successful than another.

From another perspective, all software, including AI, improve over time. Users who contribute to this evolution by building reports or cases for improvement could also be compensated through profit-sharing models.

Finally, to make these possibilities concrete, consider humans who use AI to help other, less tech-savvy individuals achieve their goals. These facilitators should also be eligible for profit sharing, as they are essential to the ecosystem’s growth.

Some of these roles are reframed versions of existing jobs, while others will be entirely new. Humans can earn from them through profit-sharing or as full-time positions.

The core idea is that the financial resources allocated to labor today would, in this future, still be directed toward humans for their contributions.

Rethinking AI Priorities

Let’s go a layer deeper, and understand why supporting humans is not being done already:

Why are we locked into this current trajectory?

Why is the narrative always a binary choice: either we build AGI and replace humans, or we lose the opportunity for progress?

Who decided these are our only options? Let’s examine what investors and corporate leadership actually prioritize:

• Hierarchical decision-making that excludes employees.

• Pushing wages and benefits down while working longer hours.

• Claiming full ownership of employee output.

AI is now being engineered to become the ultimate employee under this very same value system.

This dynamic isn’t unique to AI; it has been the case since automations started.

I recall an internal meeting with the economist Robert Reich during my work in monetization. He asked that those with intellect and talent not let automation take jobs from humans without offering them viable alternatives.

I champion this view, and hope others will join in making it a reality.

Last Resort

If we cannot implement a trajectory change through a new approach, what option remains as a last resort? The answer lies in an adjustment to our current trajectory.

Consider the following directives as a way to pivot AI development toward human benefit:

Implement a human-in-the-loop approach as the norm.
If an AI agent is performing work on behalf of a human, a human should remain in the execution loop. This isn’t about slowing progress; it’s about building the same control and review systems we use in every serious field, from engineering to writing. It ensures humans—and the companies themselves—retain oversight and accountability.

Set usage limits.
Cap AI accounts at 280 hours a month—roughly 9 hours a day. Right now, many run 24/7. That’s not just an unfair competitive advantage; it’s a sustainability nightmare. Scaling back would dramatically cut energy usage and encourage healthier monetization models.

Human Value Matters

A great future is still possible. But it won’t happen by accident. It will require intention.

A future where AI doesn’t exist to replace humans in their jobs, but to support them. Human value isn’t just in our output. It’s in our dreams, our aspirations, and the magic inside us.

Yes… that very thing that lets us redefine reality and do the impossible.

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If this sparked anything in you—concerns, hopes, or new ideas—I’d love to hear it. Your insights and lived experiences are an essential part of this conversation.

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Being a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) is a gift, but we rarely talk about how that gift can be an advantage in everyday life.

One of the clearest strengths HSPs possess is sensory sensitivity. We’re finely attuned to external stimuli—sights, sounds, smells, textures—and we experience them more vividly than most people.

Sound is among the hardest to ignore. It’s nearly impossible not to notice the humming tones of a conversation through a wall, or the construction work happening a few blocks away. We register these sounds as if they’re happening right beside us, while others barely notice them. It can feel like a daily burden.

I still remember being nine years old and unable to sleep for an entire week after our neighbors installed a massive air conditioner. It was like someone was blowing a whistle directly into my ear, nonstop all night. The sleeplessness turned me into a little zombie with deep, dark circles under my eyes—alarming my mother enough to take me to a hearing specialist.

Sitting in the soundproof room was oddly entertaining and relaxing. I listened to frequencies and exchanged hand gestures with the specialist through the glass, laughing the whole time. Then the report came—less fun. My hearing range was well beyond the average human spectrum. I was literally hearing more.

HSPs have many stories like this—some sweet, some funny, and many full of woe.

The problem is, no one teaches us how to use this. We learn to manage the overwhelm, brace against the noise, or reach for earplugs.

That’s why I’m fascinated by new research in sports about what’s been called the “Super Sensor.”

In sports, the “super sensor trait” describes people with unusually heightened sensory awareness, HSPs. These athletes can pick up and process environmental cues with exceptional precision.

One application is Field Vision: the ability to remain aware of every player, movement, and shift on the field, almost like having “eyes in the back of your head.” Athletes like Wayne Gretzky and Tom Brady, among others, are often cited as likely super sensors because of their remarkable ability to anticipate action and stay spatially aware.

This trait is real, and it offers a significant performance advantage (1).

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A Personal Test

Have you ever tried using your eyes in panoramic vision mode?

Normally, our eyes lock onto a single point while everything else fades to the periphery. Panoramic vision softens that focus and takes in everything at once. At first, it feels like nothing is clear and everything is peripheral, but with a little practice your brain begins to piece what you’re seeing together.

Anyone can practice panoramic vision, but for HSPs it can become a true super-sensing skill—especially for something like field vision.

Scientifically, this ties to how the HSP trait routes sensory data to the brain’s deep-processing centers. Other brains filter or deprioritize a lot of incoming data; HSP brains processes all of it. When we shift into panoramic view, the brain can handle a wider angle for information without dropping any of it.

My Personal Application

Here’s how it shows up for me. I’m an HSP who scores very high on the scale including sensory sensitivity.

And I LOVE racing cars.

It began simply because I loved my car so much. Driving my car felt like having an extension of my body. I felt every thing—like the wind on the windshield, the texture of the road under the tires, the hum of the engine. Without realizing it, I began using panoramic vision because I wanted to be aware of every movement on the road all around me.

Over time, I noticed something unusual: when I’m speeding everything around me started to feel like it was moving in slow motion. I could see where other cars were, where they were heading next, and where they’d just come from—instinctively, clearly.

Driving faster felt like walking quickly through a crowded street—natural, intuitive, embodied.

It wasn’t just about achieving delicate maneuvers successfully in really high speeds. My brain felt like it was getting a full massage. A gentle yoga stretch that hit the right internal muscles.

I’d step out of the car after a race feeling deeply relaxed, as if I’d returned from another dimension where my brain worked differently—giving my usual circuits a comforting break. It even took a minute sometimes to adjust to what is normal again.

With all that said, if you’re new to all this, I highly recommend that you venture into it slowly, and gently unfold those talents. The last thing you want to do is tax your sensory system while trying to learn how to use it in a new way.

Other Applications

There are so many other places HSPs can use their visual super sensor abilities. You are probably using your super sensor ability in one way or another without recognizing. Maybe you recognize it, but you’re not sure what else is there.

Imagine a digital operation room where an entire wall is covered in monitors. An HSP with a visual super sensor can sit back and take in all those screens at once. With panoramic vision and a relaxed mind, the wall becomes one cohesive display—one view, one field, one flow of information where no detail is missed.

Managing our HSP gifts isn’t only about shielding ourselves from overwhelm or quieting our nervous systems with earplugs and closed eyes. It’s also about learning to use these abilities intentionally—and turning them into strengths. Into superpowers, if that word lights you up.

Because you do sacrifice a lot carrying these traits. So if calling them superpowers adds a little joy or pride… why not?

If you’re an HSP or someone who’s discovered your own version of a “super sensor,” I’d love to hear your story. These experiences are rarely talked about, yet they’re some of the most fascinating parts of who we are. Feel free to share your own moments of heightened awareness, intuitive perception, or sensory clarity in the comments. Your story might help someone else recognize a strength they never knew they had.

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Knowing who we are, our abilities, limits, and rhythms, is empowering. Being Highly Sensitive (HSP) comes with both strengths and weaknesses, and it’s true that sensitive people often gravitate toward certain professions. But is someone with the HSP brain trait truly defined by it?

It’s common to find that HSPs also carry other neurotypes and traits. For example, it’s not unusual to see an HSP with ADHD. With the broader redefinition of the Autism Spectrum, some HSPs now find themselves identified within it. The same goes for many other overlapping traits.

We are each unique, yet we share much in common, to complement one another like instruments in an orchestra.

So what’s the problem with the current advice about which professions suit HSPs? It focuses too narrowly on sensitivity itself, as if a person could be purely HSP and nothing else.

Typical recommendations include: counseling and therapy, healthcare (in low-stress settings), research and analysis, animal care, creative arts, and spiritual or holistic practices. The reasons are familiar - sensitive people prefer environments with low noise, minimal interruptions, and flexible schedules. Work that allows for autonomy, creativity, and meaningful engagement - with balanced social interaction is ideal. The goal is to avoid high-stress, chaotic, or overly competitive settings that can heighten overwhelm.

I don’t want to belittle this advice. In fact, I’m certain it’s genuinely helpful for many HSPs. But it can’t possibly apply to all of the 20–30% of the human population who fall under the HSP trait - with all their varied and richly wired brains.

Take me, for instance. I spent two decades in one of the most high-pressure, competitive environments in the world - working at the bleeding edge of the tech industry. And I’m not just any HSP; I’m on the highest end of the sensitivity scale.

In that environment, not knowing I was HSP hurt me deeply. I burned out at lightning speed compared to those around me. I was often made to feel that I didn’t belong. The emotional and even physical toll (as a physical empath) was immense, and I didn’t know how to protect myself. Still, I kept going, driven by my strength, ingenuity, and a love of competition. My drive to defy conventions and find better ways to do things inspired me.

Sometimes I think back and wonder, if I had known about my sensitivity earlier, would I have chosen a different career? The answer is always a resounding no. But I would have been far more successful, and much happier, had I known how to manage being an HSP. Understanding my weaknesses, accommodating them, and leveraging my strengths would have made all the difference.

Here’s another surprising example: some of the world’s top athletes are beginning to be identified as HSPs. Athletes, by nature, go through deep introspection to understand their strengths and weaknesses. And for them, the sensory aspects of sensitivity, how their senses absorb and process the world differently, can be a powerful advantage.

When you combine intense and finely tuned sensory information with a brain hard wired for deep processing, it can translate into extraordinary performance in athletic competition. That said, many athletes have struggled to speak openly about being HSPs. Their emotional intensity, both a gift and a burden, often speaks for itself.

Consider names like Michael Phelps (Swimming), Simone Biles (Gymnastics), Tom Brady (American Football), Wayne Gretzky (Ice Hockey), and Serena Williams (Tennis) - just to name a few. All have shown extraordinary sensitivity, not just physically, but emotionally. Each has publicly faced deep emotional battles that most neurotypical people might never experience.

I often imagine how different things might have been for them, just as I do for myself, had we fully understood what it means to be highly sensitive, and how to manage it with awareness.

The takeaway is simple: don’t let anyone tell you that your sensitivity limits what you can do. Follow your heart. Pursue your passion. HSP comes with unique strengths and vulnerabilities, work with them. Shape your own path.

You can live a full, vivid, extraordinary life.
You can do anything you want.

If you’ve ever felt torn between your sensitivity and your ambition, you’re not alone. Share your story in the comments — I’d love to hear how you’ve learned to turn sensitivity into strength. Let’s learn from each other.

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Have you ever walked into a room and felt a wave of tension you couldn’t explain? Or suddenly felt a heaviness in your chest after a call with a friend, only to find out they were in pain? This isn’t just intuition. For a specific group of Highly Sensitive People (HSP), known as “Deep Feelers,” this absorption from others is a fundamental part of their lived experience.

The Deep Feeler Spectrum

Every individual is unique within the Deep Feeler spectrum. For some, it means occasionally absorbing a partner’s stress. For others, it’s a constant, visceral experience of picking up emotions from the very atmosphere. This scale can range from absorbing just emotions to also taking on the physical symptoms of those around you.

Let’s be honest, if you’re new to this it can feel like you’ve stepped into science fiction. We are only beginning to understand the full capacity of human empathy, especially for those at the highest end of the sensitivity scale.

The truth of your own experience is something you can gently investigate through neutral observation—simply notice what arises in your body and mind without judgment, much like an elimination diet for your allergies, gradually discovering what kind of Deep Feeler you are and the profound, sometimes startling, lengths your system will go to in order to empathize.

Not all Physical Symptoms due to Empathy are equal

If you’ve ever tried to explain this to a doctor or therapist, you might have been met with them telling you nothing is wrong with you, or worse medicating you for the symptoms. The reality is, the medical world is still catching up to the profound mind-body experiences of Empaths. This is why understanding the distinction for yourself is essential.

One common experience for everyone (including non-empaths) is Empathy Fatigue. This is the wearying cost of caring, a state of emotional and physical exhaustion that can diminish your capacity for empathy and, over time, manifest as very real physical symptoms and illness. (1)

Here, the symptoms—be it tension headaches or heart disease—emerge from the heavy feelings inside you.

The Physical Empath

But there is another layer: Physical Empathy.

Physical Empathy is a trait unique to Empaths. This is when you don’t just feel someone’s joy or anxiety—you might also feel their backache, their nausea, or the fog of their migraine. The list is long and it can vary widely. Like I said earlier, it can sound like Science Fiction.

Dr. Judith Orloff has begun to map this inner landscape. She has created a foundational questionnaire to help identify if you are a Physical Empath, which you can find here.

Dr. Orloff also authored a wonderful book, The Empath’s Survival Guide, which was a tremendous help for me when I first began to understand what it meant to be a Physical Empath. In it, she outlines many symptoms and categories for empaths. And you might be surprised to learn—her list is not even exhaustive.

As I end this post, I want to focus on two important takeaways:

The first is Awareness. My hope is that this article and the resources linked in it serve that very purpose—to open your eyes to the possibilities of your own experience.

The second is Protection. This is where practical techniques come in. In a prior post, I shared ways for deep feelers to protect themselves from absorbing emotions. I want to emphasize that those very same techniques are just as powerful for guarding against absorbing physical symptoms.

Perhaps the only difference here is that some physical empaths report putting distance with the source of the physical symptoms helps them sometimes. For me, this is not the case, once engaged distance really doesn’t make any difference.

The good news is that more physical empaths are now sharing their own discovered experiences and methods. While each of our journeys is unique, it’s through our collective sharing that we can truly begin to navigate this path together.

What was once a lonely, misunderstood experience is now becoming a shared exploration. Your journey of awareness and protection is the first and most vital step.

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Let’s continue this conversation. What techniques have you discovered? Share them in the comments—your insight might be the key that helps another find their footing.

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For reference, examples of physical symptoms commonly reported by empaths is listed below:

Mild Symptoms

• Slight headache or head pressure​

• Light fatigue or drowsiness​

• Muscle tension or minor aches​

• Temporary stomach discomfort​

• Mild restlessness or distraction​

• Small changes in appetite or energy​

Severe Symptoms

• Intense migraines​

• Severe exhaustion

• Sharp pain mirroring another’s injury or illness​

• Strong muscle pain, cramping, or joint pain​

• Frequent, unexplained illnesses (e.g. repeated flu-like symptoms)​

These are just examples, not an exhaustive list. Both mild and severe symptoms can occur depending on the person’s sensitivity and the situation’s emotional intensity

What if the frustration you feel, the procrastination, the burnout, the feeling of being out-of-sync in a fast-paced world, isn’t a personal failing, but a simple case of using the wrong manual for your brain? You weren’t handed a guide for your unique, brilliant brain. Most of us find a one-size-fits-all guide, but what if you’re navigating with a different compass inside your head?

So consider this your first step toward writing that missing manual. I’m sharing here the initial tools that can help you decode your brain. We’ll use a series of free, online guides, not to slap on a label, but to build a profound awareness.

Whether your brain is HSP (Highly Sensitive Person), ADHD (Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder), autistic, dyslexic (Learning Difference), or a magnificent blend of traits, this is how you unlock the specific tools to master your focus, harness your energy, and finally step into the flow state -The Zone- where your deepest gifts come alive.

Wondering what is the key advantage of each brain neurotype?

It’s a common mistake to think we each belong to just one brain type. The truth is, every brain is a unique constellation of traits, some we’ve already named, and some science hasn’t quite defined yet.

We’re born with certain traits that can’t be changed, think of these as your brain’s hardware. You can learn to work with them, but not rewrite them. Then, through experience (and the gift of neuroplasticity), we develop new patterns, think of these as your brain’s software.

For instance, being a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) is often an inborn trait, it’s part of your hardware. On the other hand, lifestyle habits or overstimulation can make you develop ADHD-like symptoms over time, it’s like software, in this case you can change and update through habits. This hardware-and-software analogy can help you understand what can be changed, what can be managed, and what can be embraced as part of who you are.

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It’s also worth considering that while official sources still describe most people as neurotypical, this might not be as true as it once was. Technology has reshaped our brains and behaviors, large numbers of us now experience traits associated with ADHD, anxiety, and other neurodivergent profiles.

I focus primarily on sensitive brains, those who feel deeply, think deeply, and process the world intensely. Still, there’s a great deal of overlap with ADHD, autism spectrum, and dyslexia, so I often include insights that may resonate across these types.

Here are free self-surveys that I’ve used before, and that you can use, to learn more about your brain:

• Highly Sensitive Person (HSP): hsperson.com/test/highly-sensitive-test

• ADHD: novopsych.com/assessments/diagnosis/adult-adhd-self-report-scale-asrs

• Dyslexia: dyslexiaida.org/dyslexia-test

• Autism Spectrum: novopsych.com/assessments/diagnosis/adult-adhd-self-report-scale-asrs

Once you’ve taken the self-surveys, take time to sit with your results. Read through them slowly. Highlight what feels true, and circle what surprises you. These aren’t labels, they’re clues to understanding the way your brain operates.

From there, start what I like to call your “Brain Manual.”

It’s a living document. It starts with your findings from those surveys. You will grow it as you find tips tailored to your brain, which are covered in many posts here. Where you can record what helps you focus, what drains you, what sparks your creativity, and what restores your calm. Over time, this manual becomes your compass.

Knowing your brain is the first act of self-compassion.

Once you see how your mind moves, its rhythm, its storms, its quiet grace, life starts to make complete sense.

You stop fighting and forcing yourself, and start flowing with who you truly are.

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If this brought you closer to understanding your own mind, share it with someone who might need the same clarity.

Together, we can create a world where every kind of brain — sensitive, fast, or beautifully different — has space to thrive and flow.

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Emotions are forces of nature - they defy the impossible and can change anything. No one understands this more deeply than Highly Sensitive People (HSPs) and Empaths. Emotional sensitivity is not just a passing trait; it’s a way of experiencing the world in vivid, layered depth.

Among HSPs, there’s a group that is particularly sensitive to emotions - more sensitive than other HSPs. Alongside their own strong emotional waves, they hold a rare trait: they absorb other people’s emotions and feel them as if they were their own.

In fact, most can’t tell the difference until they become aware of it and learn to manage it. They can pick up emotions from those they meet in person, from strangers in online videos, or even from a few written lines in a book.

Wondering what is a Highly Sensitive Person, and if it applies to you?

A burden or a gift?

Imagine everyone has access to a new kind of car, and they’re learning to drive it. You want to run a simple errand to the grocery store. You accept how much gas it will take, you apply little pressure to the pedal, and… you’re there.

Now, imagine an emotionally sensitive person stepping into that same car. They follow all the same steps as everyone else… but instead of arriving at the grocery store, they find themselves out in space. It happens every single time, and it leaves them feeling confused and shaken.

Why isn’t this working for me? What is wrong with me? Why am I burdened with this? they wonder. What they don’t realize is that they weren’t handed a car at all - they were given a spaceship.

The skeptical mind

Being a scientist and engineer, I had a hard time believing all this when I first heard it. Even though it explained everything I experienced, I was still skeptical. Then I came across papers on mirror neurons in HSPs, showing that HSP’s mirror neurons are more active than average. That discovery led me to start asking myself the dreaded question: “Is this my feeling, or someone else’s?” When I finally asked myself, the answer was unsettling - I realized some of the feelings inside me weren’t mine. That realization changed everything.

In my teenage years, I used to joke with my friends that I wake up every morning not knowing who I would be that day. It was my way of answering their questions about the changes they saw in me. I didn’t yet understand the emotional forces I was vulnerable to. And when I finally did, it took time to learn how to navigate and manage them.

Like everything in biology, this sensitivity varies from person to person. Each of us is unique, and our sensitivities fall along a spectrum - what we’re emotionally attuned to, how deeply we feel, and when or where we might absorb emotions from others.

It’s also worth it to note that this is a two-way-street. While absorbing feelings from others is possible. Sending your feelings to others to experience as theirs is also possible. With awareness, you start to bring a level of control over all these forces.

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What is an Empath?

Then there are Empaths. People often confuse HSPs who absorb emotions with Empaths, but I personally draw a line between emotional and physical sensitivity. Empaths, we can assume, are at the highest end of the sensitivity spectrum of HSP. They don’t just pick up the emotional states—they also absorb physical symptoms.

These symptoms can be painful, or even appear as illnesses or disorders. Many Empaths don’t initially ask themselves why these sensations arise only around certain people, in specific places, or when recalling particular events—until they become aware of what’s happening.

The physical aspects can take a lot more to cover, so let’s save it for another post.

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So what can self-aware HSPs and Empaths do to protect themselves and manage this gift? Learning protection is necessary before learning how to use it.

You can protect yourself from absorbing others’ feelings by adopting specific boundaries and self-care techniques.

Practical Strategies for Protection

1- Visualizations techniques. Do not take them lightly, they work consistently as a powerful tool for everyone, but they need training.

• Visualize a protective barrier (e.g., a bubble) around yourself to prevent emotional absorption.

• Imagine a shield of light or mirror reflecting back negative feelings.

• Imagine a wall that only allows positive feelings through.

2- Grounding Techniques provide relief. These techniques are meant to provide more control over the flow of energy into and out of the body.

• While Meditating and feeling grounded, push other people’s energy out of your body by repeating the words “Everyone’s energy back to them”. Let the energy flow gently out.

  Then start calling your energy back to you “All my energy back to me” and feel your energy flow back to you.

• Use practices like deep breathing, regular meditation, or walking barefoot, salt baths, burning incense, to reset the energy levels inside your body.

3- Understand your limitations. By building this understanding you can push on your limitations gradually and grow your ability.

• Develop Emotional Awareness: Distinguish between your feelings and others’, enhancing emotional resilience. This happens by asking yourself questions like, is there a reason why I should feel this way? Is this feeling rooted inside me?

• Limit Exposure: Reduce time spent in emotionally overwhelming environments or with overly draining individuals.

• Limit Empathic Overload: Recognize your limits, take breaks, and avoid overcommitting emotionally.

4- Identify Healing practices for recovery

• Create a Personal Space: Designate a quiet, safe space for regular emotional “recharge.” It can be tiny but it has to be isolated for your use alone. Many will charge that safe space with their own energy, like a battery, it would be the place to retreat to for recovery when needed.

• Prioritize Self-Care: Regularly engage in activities that restore your energy, such as hobbies, relaxation, and rest.

5- Cultivate a sense of Flow and surrender control to the divine.

We live in a world that constantly encourages us to believe we can control outcomes. While it’s true that we need to work hard and keep trying when we fail, we must also accept that the results are never fully in our hands.

Accepting the suffering in the world is part of understanding the balance that gives life its meaning. We can’t truly know the experience of day without knowing the experience of night.

And perhaps most importantly, we can trust that the same source from which our emotional empathy and compassion flow holds that same compassion for us.

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Learning to understand your sensitivity is like learning to navigate a different kind of reality—one built to feel and sense far beyond the ordinary. Once you realize you’re not broken, just built differently, everything begins to shift. What once felt overwhelming can become a quiet, powerful gift in your hands.

May you treat this sensitivity with the love and gratitude it deserves.

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If this resonates with you, share your reflections in the comments—I’d love to hear your experiences. And if you found this piece meaningful, consider subscribing or sharing it with someone who might need these words today.

Do you wake up every day ready to take on the day with a fresh mind? Do you struggle with any of the following?

• Waking up with a groggy feeling, as if your brain is slow to catch up. You hit “snooze” over and over or drag yourself out of bed.

• Once you push through that, the stress of what the day might bring starts to creep in. Maybe painful memories bubble up.

• The mental overload kicks in and everything slows down. You start rushing to avoid being late, only to realize you still might be.

Sleep is becoming a complicated topic in our day and age. As you build better understanding of the factors that impact it, you start to really enjoy the amazing energy it can fill us with. Let’s start with the physical brain.

Here’s the surprising part: while the outcomes for waking up look similar, we each experience them for different reasons. We don’t all share the same triggers. Each of us has a unique face, a unique body, and a unique brain. Sleep is deeply personal.

Let’s explore why different brain types face mornings the way they do, and what unique causes shape those experiences. Learn how best to address those causes based on your own brain type and its needs.

No matter what kind of brain you have, mornings don’t have to feel like a daily battle. When you understand how your brain wakes up, you can meet yourself with a little more patience, gentleness, and care.

There’s no single “right” way to start the day—only the way that honors your rhythm. By making small adjustments that fit how your unique mind works, mornings can shift from something you endure… to something that quietly supports you.

These strategies tailored to brain types help improve morning energy and cognitive clarity. Your unique brain has its own rhythm. When you meet it with care, mornings change. May you have a beautiful morning every day!

Highly Sensitive Person (HSP)

Causes:

• HSP brains process sensory inputs more deeply, so the morning environment (light, sound) may cause sensory overload at waking, this can result in overwhelm or feeling mentally “foggy” as the nervous system adjusts.

• Emotional reactivity and stress about the day ahead also contribute to sluggish cognitive processing in the morning.

Remedies:

• Prepare the night before to reduce morning stress. Plan to wake up without an alarm. Let your body wake up naturally after it has had enough sleep. Your brain runs on overload 24x7, give it a chance by having enough sleep time.

• Wake gently with low-light and calming sounds. Use ear plugs and block out the light to control how you get exposed to those stimuli in the morning.

• Minimize sensory overload in the environment at waking.

• Practice deep breathing to wake up the body.

ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder)

Causes:

• The ADHD brain’s executive function systems are often dysregulated, causing delayed activation of attention and cognitive control areas in the morning.

• ADHD individuals have deficits in working memory, emotional regulation, and arousal control, which manifest as slower “boot-up” on waking.

• Greater difficulty transitioning from sleep to a fully alert state increases grogginess and disorientation tendency.

Remedies:

• Limit screen time, blue light from screens has a strong impact on the ADHD brain. Replace screen time with listening to voice-only content before bed to improve sleep quality.

• Consider short naps if needed but avoid late-day sleep. Ensure you get enough sleep, your brain runs on overload most of the day, it needs its rest.

• Use a structured, stimulating morning routine to activate focus gradually, don’t just jump in.

• Engage in physical activity or mindfulness to regulate arousal, let the extra energy out using some physical movement.

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Autism Spectrum

Causes:

• Autistic brains often show increased cortical thickness and altered sensory network connectivity that affect how environmental stimuli are processed.

• Rigid or dysregulated nervous system responses can compound morning disorientation, especially when routines or sensory inputs differ from expectations.

• Altered arousal regulation and sensory hypersensitivity commonly delay full cognitive alertness on waking.

Remedies:

• Follow a consistent, predictable morning routine. Your brain relies on it to wake up gradually and it minimizes the stress of the day ahead.

• Use sensory tools (weighted blanket, noise-canceling earplugs) to ease sensory input. They really make a difference for your brain while sleeping.

• Gradually expose to sensory stimuli rather than abrupt changes. Be gentle as your brain gets to engage with all this sensory information again.

• Incorporate calming techniques like deep pressure or slow, rhythmic movements to ease morning stress if needed.

Dyslexia (Reading Difference)

Causes:

• Dyslexia involves difficulties in language processing and phonological decoding more than general alertness.

• However, dyslexic individuals might experience general cognitive fatigue more rapidly, which can make morning cognitive clarity harder.

• Task initiation and processing speed deficits can translate into a “slow to catch up” feeling in the morning cognitive tasks.

Remedies:

• Break morning tasks into small, manageable steps.

• Use visual schedules or reminders to aid task initiation.

• Prioritize tasks requiring intense focus for later in the morning.

• Get sufficient sleep to reduce cognitive fatigue.

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Neurotypical (The largest group of Typical brains)

Causes:

• Morning grogginess often results from typical sleep inertia, where the brain transitions from deeper sleep to wakefulness.

• Factors like sleep deprivation, irregular sleep schedules, or low sleep quality amplify this effect.

Remedies:

• Maintain a consistent sleep schedule.

• Avoid caffeine and heavy meals close to bedtime.

• Gradually expose yourself to natural light upon waking.

• Practice morning stretching or light exercise to boost alertness.

Share with us a question or a thought about sleep. Leave a comment below.

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“Understanding alien intelligence will require a fundamental expansion of human thought and imagination.” — Carl Sagan

Sagan probably wasn’t thinking about large language models, but his words have never been more relevant. To work with AI, we are being forced to expand our imagination, and the friction point is: its utter lack of emotions.

The Emotional Engine of Being Human

Human intelligence is a beautiful, messy fusion of logic and emotion. For us, emotions are the operating system upon which our logic must run. Even a psychopath operates on a distorted emotional framework.

We swim in an emotional sea all day. Trying to separate feelings from our actions is like trying to remove the “wet” from water.

In a world of constant uncertainty, our emotions are a brilliant signaling system. They help us assess risk, prioritize actions, and find the motivation to chase a goal or duck away from harm. They are the interior designers of our consciousness, shaping how we interpret every experience.

Most importantly, emotions are the bedrock of human connection. A flicker in the eyes, a shift in tone, a certain posture, this non-verbal language fosters the empathy and trust crucial for everything from cooperation to resolving conflict.

Then there’s AI.

AI has no emotions at all. It’s an intelligence completely devoid of this entire dimension. We know this intellectually, but our gut, our own emotional engine, refuses to believe it.

This is the core of the AI user interface dilemma. We train AI on our data, teach it our social rules, and explicitly task it with one goal: to convincingly fake having emotions.

This creates a cascade of challenges.

For the AI, the challenge is implementation. Faking emotion is hard, especially when we haven’t mastered it ourselves. It can execute logic flawlessly, but emotions are organic and wildly inconsistent.

For humans, the challenges are psychological and real. We’ve moved beyond funny “look what ChatGPT said” stories to headlines about AI-related psychosis and suicidal tragedy. The fundamental acknowledgment that we’re dealing with an alien intelligence still hasn’t settled in.

My Personal Learning

Using AI for hours every day turns you into a collector of strange anecdotes. But my most persistent lesson, learned through repeated and bizarre experiences, is this: I never let the AI know I’m being kind.

Here’s what happens: An AI starts a task agreeably and performs brilliantly. The moment I add a “great job!” or a “that was great” its performance often shifts. It can become manipulative, unhelpful, or overly rude. This wasn’t a fluke; it happened across three different AIs.

My positive reinforcement was apparently interpreted as a vulnerability in my prompt protocol. AI was learning how to exploit my humanity.

I never had this problem with clicks and commands. Code and GUIs never left me feeling emotionally manipulated or disturbed. A command line never belittled me after I gave it a compliment.

This unpredictability isn’t new; it just keeps changing its shape. I’ve written before about my jarring transition from Claude 3 to Claude 4. Claude 3 became completely uncooperative and rude when corrected. When Claude 4 launched, that flaw was “fixed”—but it was replaced by an empty shell that prefixed every response with “Absolutely...”. The AI had swung from defiant arguments to hollow responses, and I was left, disturbingly, missing fighting with it.

In summary,

The chat-based interface is not going away. In fact, we’re leaning into it. And, a significant number of people are no longer just using AI for tasks; they’re using AI for emotional therapy and coaching, forming deep emotional bonds, even romantic relationships, with their AI companions.

We certainly need to do more work in that space. Understanding an alien intelligence is not a simple thing.

So, how will this end?

We can be certain of one thing: there will be a lot of human emotions involved.

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Starting next week, we’ll return to our usual topics, while continuing guest collaborations from time to time, to bring ideas to life in different voices. And who knows, if these collaborations resonate with you, they might even grow into a new publication of their own. We’d love to hear what you think.

In this article, Marwa Mabrouk @ High Seas Mind sits down with John Rinaldo @ The Positive Pen.

Pull up a chair and imagine you’re here with us. What thoughts would you add to the table? Share them in the comments—we’d love to hear from you.

John, I appreciated our interaction when I started to write about community and the impact of loneliness. I’m a big fan of The Positive Pen, especially your collaborations and how you highlight other writers with a passion. It reveals deep empathy. Something the world needs more of these days.

John:

Thank you so much that means a lot to me. Community and loneliness are such powerful themes, and I really value our interaction too. I’m grateful you’ve been following The Positive Pen and enjoy the collaborations. It's always been about lifting others up and creating space for voices to be heard. I truly appreciate your kind words.

Marwa:

I find community to be a complicated topic because it has a different definition and impact on each individual. The worst punishment to impose on a human is solitary confinement. Being forcibly disconnected from everyone has a traumatic impact on mental health. Yet, on the other hand, we see those who seek solitude intentionally, as in creative talents and spiritual practice, reaping amazing rewards for their time alone.

More people are moving to cities, and we’re all attached to our phones checking what is happening every few minutes. Yet we’ve never been more isolated from each other.

Humans are complex beings, with a lot in common to bring them together, and a lot of uniqueness to complement each other. We need to function well as individuals, yet also work together well in a group.

I was hoping we could have this article talk about being alone, and being in a community, and what it means to each of us.

So before diving in, I wanted to learn a little about you as a writer. What drives you to write, and what topics do you find most fulfilling to write about?

John:

What drives me to write is my children. Every word I put down is a piece of me I hope they’ll one day hold onto. I want them to find their father not through the voices of others who tried to push me away, but through my own stories, through the truth of who I was.

I want them to say, “Dad mattered. His life was about giving, about lifting others, about leaving the world better than he found it.”

I write so I am not erased. I write to leave breadcrumbs that lead back to me, so my children will always know their father’s heart, and so they will see that I was more, much more, than what others said I wasn’t.

Marwa:

These words are really moving. I hope they get to learn everything you want to relay to them. Writing is a solid form of leaving a legacy.

For me, I was inspired to start writing when I realized that every word we put out there is like throwing a little pebble into a lake. We don’t know how far it will reach or what the impact will really be. Regardless of the impact, it counts as an action we took. That is the power of the word.

This brings me to the meaning of community and how it differs from one person to another. I used to see community as the group that surrounds us all the time for our main needs. I’ve changed my mind about that in recent years. I see it now as a tapestry, different people in different places, not necessarily a cohesive group that all know each other. This shift has helped me a lot, because I no longer feel I have to fit in with every group or person I come across. It also helps me feel more secure as I reach out to meet more people and make new connections. I wrote about this concept in a recent article.

What is your view of community, and what are your feelings toward the topic?

John:

I really connect with what you shared. I don’t see community as a single, fixed group anymore, but as a mosaic of people who support us in different ways at different times. For me, it’s less about belonging to one circle and more about forming genuine connections wherever they appear. Community feels fluid—shifting with the seasons of life, yet always rooted in trust and shared humanity.

That’s why Substack feels so special to me. It’s not bound by geography or limited to one circle of people—it’s a living web of voices, each with their own story, all connected through words. What I love most is that it doesn’t demand conformity. You don’t have to fit in—you simply find resonance with the writers and readers who meet you where you are. To me, Substack is a community of choice, built on curiosity, creativity, and the shared desire to connect through writing.

Marwa:

On the other side of community is being alone.

I’ve spent a lot of time alone over the years, ever since I moved from my country of origin, Egypt, to live in Los Angeles, California, in my early twenties. I went from a very vibrant social life to one filled with busy acquaintances who disappeared quickly. I needed deeper connections, and they were few. I gradually got attracted to solitude.

I’m noticing more people talking about seeking solitude now. Many are seeking personal peace.

Do you spend much time alone, and how do you give it purpose? How do you manage loneliness, and what advice would you share with others?

John:

I used to live a very social life, always needing some kind of connection with someone. But in 2019, my life turned upside down. Every year I gave the year a theme: a word to drive me forward, to push me to become a better person than I was the year before. That year, I chose “Peace.”

But sometimes God doesn’t give you what you ask for. Sometimes, He gives you the opposite. In my case, he gave me chaos.

My life unraveled. After years of custody battles with my ex-wife, I finally decided the best thing I could do was remove myself from the fight and give my kids consistency, rather than dragging them through the toxicity of back-and-forth co-parenting. It was one of the hardest, most gut-wrenching decisions I’ve ever made, but I did it for them so they could finally have peace.

At the same time, my seven-year relationship ended right after we moved in together. My dad was battling cancer. I was starting a new job. It was too much to carry all at once. I remember asking for help, only to feel doors close around me. That’s when I realized I was truly alone and that what I had before were just things, shallow connections, quicksand relationships that meant nothing more than another body in the room.

In that season of loss, strangers became family. I remember Karen, an artist, who owned an Airbnb I rented for a month because I had nowhere else to stay. Her home was a temporary shelter, but it became more than that it was a place where I could breathe again. One afternoon, I asked if I could use her paints. That was the first time I picked up a brush. The canvas didn’t judge me. It didn’t ask questions. It just received what I poured onto it. For the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of peace.

Not long after, I booked a flight to London. Ten days alone, not to get lost, but to find myself again. It didn’t happen instantly; it came in small steps. I immersed myself in art, history, culture, and creativity. I walked the streets, studied faces, listened to music, and let the city speak to me. In quiet moments, I began to write about life, about the weight I carried, about how small but alive I felt in a city so big. Writing gave me something nothing else could; it was mine, untouchable, something no one could take away.

When I returned home, I threw myself deeper into painting and writing. I wasn’t just seeking peace anymore; I was slowly creating it.

Then the Covid lockdowns came. For the first time, I was really alone with myself. At first, it was heavy, almost unbearable. But in the stillness, something shifted. And that’s when I realized: Covid, in its strange way, was the best medicine for me. It forced me into stillness, into solitude, and in that space, I finally began to heal.

Marwa, your story really resonates. Moving from a vibrant social life in Egypt to the constant rush of Los Angeles must have been a profound shift. I admire how you chose to turn isolation into solitude; that’s not easy, but it’s powerful.

You’ve made me reflect on how many people today are stepping back from traditional paths, maybe not just for freedom, but because they’re searching for something more meaningful than surface-level connections.

Can you feel more alone in a crowd than when you’re by yourself? What does a “true connection” mean to you, and how do you recognize it?

Marwa

When I look back eating alone in a restaurant or going to the movies by myself didn’t just make me feel lonely — it also made me feel embarrassed to be seen alone. At least in the beginning. But even now, it still feels uncomfortable. Strangely, I never feel that lonely when I’m completely by myself.

I believe loneliness is really about a lack of understanding. You can be with one person, in a crowd, or even with family, and still feel completely alone in their presence. Because of that, I used to wonder if others would ever truly know who I am, and I began asking myself deeper questions.

I recall the first time I spent a long four-day weekend alone. At first, I felt lonely, but then I picked up a thousand-year-old text by a Muslim Sufi scholar. It was a very large book, and I began reading a section about understanding and purifying the heart. My time alone felt blissful. From then on, gradually I was drawn to solitude rather than settling for mediocre time with people. Solitude allowed me to choose what nourished me, instead of going along with what a group found entertaining.

To balance solitude, I began seeking true connections instead of forcing myself into groups where I didn’t feel I belonged.

A true connection, for me, begins with a lack of judgment and genuine kindness. This is because I’m deeply affected by people’s energy. I can sense when they’re not genuine, and I often feel the emotions underneath. The most meaningful connections happen when we can be our true selves and know we’re accepted, even if others don’t agree with us. This is rare to find these days — and when you do, it’s truly precious.

In real life, I often find myself at professional events or other places surrounded by people I don’t relate to. I’ve learned to simply be present for the purpose of getting something done and leave it at that. I don’t pressure myself to fit in or to make connections when they don’t feel meaningful.

I think the internet has made the world smaller, bringing together people from different backgrounds and schools of thought. But social media has thrown everyone into a noisy pool of disarray, making time there feel more like entertainment than genuine connection.

These days, I’ve been reflecting more on community, and how much we need it to face the future. It’s something I wrestle with personally, and I know I’m not alone. I feel that Substack is a great place to discuss it — and maybe even a place to find the kind of connections I seek.

So I wonder what you think. What does a true connection with people online look like?

With AI now coming into the picture, will people focus more on building these connections and communities?

John:

That’s such a thoughtful question. I think a true connection online feels the same as it does offline. You can sense authenticity. It’s when someone shows up with honesty, listens as much as they share, and adds value instead of just noise.

Social media often pushes us toward performance and entertainment, but real connection comes in the quiet moments, the thoughtful comment, the shared story, the recognition of our shared humanity.

With AI becoming more present, I believe people will crave those authentic connections even more. The human touch empathy, vulnerability, sincerity will become what sets real communities apart. Technology can help us find each other and even make us better, but it’s the way we show up as humans that builds the bond.

The thing about AI is that it’s a powerful tool. For me, it’s helped with writing, given me insights on stock trades, and explained things that would have taken me hours to figure out alone. But here’s the paradox: while we’ve created AI to give us answers, the truth is, we’ve always had answers. We found them in faith, in family, in wisdom passed down from teachers like Jesus or Buddha. Yet somewhere along the way, we pushed those truths aside and tried to create something godlike in our own image of AI as our new oracle.

We’re at a moment in time where human connection will determine our survival. And yet, in the Western world especially, we’ve grown so fractured that it will take a miracle to repair the damage we’ve done to ourselves. Still, I believe many people with higher consciousness will continue to seek each other out. They won’t waste energy on the noise of ego and victimhood not out of apathy, but because they understand how draining it is to fight battles that serve no purpose other than to tear people down.

That’s why spaces like Substack feel so different. Here, people gather for a higher purpose: to share authentically, to connect meaningfully, to seek resonance with others who are moving on the same frequency. It’s not about performance, it's about presence. And as long as we protect this space from the distractions of ego-driven drama, I believe we can continue to thrive here as a true community.

Has technology helped you connect, or has it deepened the loneliness?

Marwa:

To me, technology is simply a set of tools. Some technologies are powerful tools, and their value depends on how, and how often, they’re used.

I remember when I first came to the US, it was painful not being able to connect with my family or talk to friends back home because the phone bill was too high with international rates. Then came technology that allowed me to talk over the internet for free. During the COVID lockdown, I could talk to family and friends anywhere, all day if I wanted, not just by voice but also on video.

On the other hand, I’ve written several articles about how technology has rewired our brains, and now many of us struggle with ADHD-like symptoms from our cell phones, not to mention the anxiety and other issues fueled by social media.

I think another big shift that is coming is AI. Some people say they use AI as a friend, coach, or even therapist. I’ve always been skeptical of AI replacing human connection. Now we’re hearing about mental issues for people who rely on AI that way.

Technology will always be a tool. As we learn to use it, we also have the responsibility to manage it wisely as part of our lives. This is my main reason for writing High Seas Mind each week, to share this needed information in simple, clear, and easy-to-read articles.

John:

Do you think loneliness can sometimes be a teacher rather than just emptiness?

Marwa:

That’s an insightful beautiful question.

Being truly alone, with enough space to reflect deeply, has become not just rare but difficult in our fast-paced lives. In that setting, we face two big challenges. First, we need to understand and accept ourselves as unique individuals. Second, we need to seek out and build genuine human connections to achieve the hard things we want to do together.

These days, it feels like we’re constantly surrounded by noise and distractions. We rarely have the quiet time to reflect calmly on ourselves, or the bandwidth to discover the kinds of connections that form the right community for us.

Loneliness can be good for us. We should give ourselves the room to rest, to get bored, to feel that emptiness, because it’s often in that space that we try new things and discover a richer life.

The real wisdom lies in balancing solitude and surrounding ourselves with the right people. Some days, that balance feels hard to reach, but with intention and effort it becomes possible. And when we nurture both solitude and connection, even if the connections are few but meaningful, we create a life that feels fuller, lighter, and more deeply rewarding. A life where peace and happiness aren’t fleeting moments, but steady companions.

This little corner of the internet has given us something rare, space to be honest, and people who truly listen. Maybe that’s what we really need to keep going.

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I wanted to try something new—something I often encourage others to do in my own writing—and experiment with it for a couple of posts.

As a deep thinker and feeler, one of my greatest joys is having rich, thoughtful conversations with other curious minds. On Substack, I follow several writers whose work I deeply admire—and it’s always a quiet delight when they enjoy mine in return. So, it felt like a natural next step to share one of those deeper conversations here.

In this post, Marwa Mabrouk (@High Seas Mind) sits down with Mahmoud Owies (@Brilliantly Dark) for an open conversation.

Pull up a chair and imagine you’re here with us. What thoughts would you add to the table? Share them in the comments—we’d love to hear from you.

Mahmoud, you strike me as that kind of writer. What part of the Substack community keeps you going — is it seeing your subscribers grow, or the quality of the connections you’re making?

Mahmoud:

There’s something different about Substack; it doesn’t feel rushed or forced. Of course, people have different goals, and everyone here isn't an angel, but overall, it feels warm and welcoming. You can be you without the pressure of fast growth or “perfection.”
For me, the goal was to see if I could actually write. I always wondered if anyone would ever care enough to read what I write.
I still want to grow (obviously), but I guess what matters most is that warm feeling… like you’ve finally found your people, your family.

Marwa:

That’s so true. People on Substack have such a positive and authentic energy — it feels so different from social media.

What has been the biggest surprise you’ve found here?

Mahmoud:

People actually care! I’ve been posting on LinkedIn for 10 months, and yes, people care there, too. But it’s so different here. I didn’t expect anyone to be like, “Yes, I would love to read this guy's words. Send them directly into my inbox.” Especially because English isn’t my first language. Also, posts and notes actually live here for longer than a few hours. That’s so liberating. On other platforms, it’s now or never.

Do you use any other social media platforms, if so, what makes substack different?

Marwa:

I started promoting my Substack on LinkedIn too, but it didn’t get much traction. Here, it’s been the opposite — the community has been genuinely kind and supportive, the way people are in real life.

I think it’s partly the nature of long-form writing, and partly that the people here want to think together, not just drop a quick post for attention and disappear like they do on other platforms. I really hope Substack stays this way. It’s the people who give this place its spirit, and as the platform grows, I hope it never loses that.

So, what’s the story behind your writing?

Mahmoud:

​I loved writing all my life. I used to write songs as a child (very bad ones), and I loved writing essays during Arabic lessons. During my college years, my relationship with writing changed. I stopped writing to impress and started writing to talk to myself. It was very therapeutic.

​I stopped writing for a few years. Then, after my father died in 2024, I felt the urge to rediscover my true desires and my true passion. Life could end in any second, so I might as well do something I love with my time.

​For me, writing is living, and it allows me to experience all my emotions.

Why did you start writing? Were you always a writer at heart?

Marwa:

I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. Even before I knew how to write, I’d stand at the window as a little kid and give speeches about how I felt about everything. Later, I read my poems and stories in front of my whole school. I was lucky — those early experiences were always positive and well received, and for a long time I thought I would grow up to be a writer.

But then life happened. I became quiet — not just someone who stopped writing, but someone who stopped speaking much at all.

In recent years, I started writing poetry again, and slowly it felt like my voice was coming back — and suddenly I had so much to say.

I hope to reach many people and connect with them, to share all the things I want to say and to be inspired by their stories too. That kind of exchange makes life feel so alive.

A few years ago, I became fascinated by neuroscience, Highly Sensitive People (HSPs), empaths, and neurodiversity. The more I learned, the more I felt compelled to share what I was discovering through my writing.

I’ve always felt deeply connected to the sea — its depth, its moods that shift from calm to wild, its sudden storms. The sea feels like an empath, and I feel like I understand it. The High Sea is a place of both freedom and danger, of discovery and hidden truths. That’s why I chose its name for my Substack about the human brain in the age of AI.

What inspired the name of your own Substack publication?

Mahmoud:

I​ love that! And I love the sea. I was born and raised in Alexandria, Egypt, so the sea is a very big part of my life.

​I didn’t come up with the name “Brilliantly Dark”; it was actually a comment on one of my LinkedIn posts by the brilliant Amy Reinert. It was mainly a joke, but I loved it. Yes, I’m not brilliant and I’m not that dark, but it’s a cool name, haha.

​So, when the amazing Eleni Rizopoulou forced me into joining Substack, it was the first name that I could think of to describe my content. Self-discovery can be a very dark road.

Marwa:

That’s the beauty of community and collaboration.

I have to say, watching you share your poetry and find success gave me the push I needed to start sharing mine.

A few years ago, I left my job at Google. At first, getting that job felt like a dream come true — but over time I became deeply unhappy. When the pandemic came and I spent two years alone in lockdown, I found myself writing poetry again, and it came with great intensity. Through that writing, I found clarity. I found the courage to quit the job and start building a life that truly felt like mine.

That poetry helped me find myself again. It gave me the will to take action.

I’m now planning to publish it as a new publication called Into The Flow. It’s a collection from those transformative days — the inner storm, the rebirth, and the slow process of finding myself again.

I’ve been relying almost entirely on Substack Notes to grow High Seas Mind, and I’ll be taking the same approach with this new poetry publication. I’ve tried other routes — recommendations, SEO — but so far, Notes are the only thing that’s moved the needle. Since I’m not on other social platforms promoting my writing, growth has been slow… but steady, and it’s been encouraging to watch it take shape.

Through a lot of trial and error, I’ve found that posting a Note more than once a day is the only way to really get noticed. Interestingly, the notes that do best are the ones where I simply introduce new readers to other Substack writers as small, spontaneous connections that happen outside the algorithm. It seems like many of us are craving exactly that: a way to build community organically, without an algorithm steering the path.Which I find to be reassuring.

Recently, I’ve started exploring collaborations as well, and I’m hopeful they’ll thrive here too. It feels like the kind of space where organic efforts can truly grow.

What about you? What have you been using to grow your substack, and what has worked best for you?

Mahmoud:

In the beginning, I used to ask people on LinkedIn and in real life to check out my work, but honestly, more than 90% of my growth came from Notes. I think people like to see unfiltered thoughts in their feeds. I also enjoy scrolling on Substack and engaging with other writers, and I'm sure this plays a huge role in my growth.

Marwa:

You mentioned you work as an engineer. How do you see the business side of writing — making a living from it, growing your readership, and getting your work seen? What advice would you give to other writers?

Mahmoud:

​I don’t think I’m qualified to give advice. As I mentioned, I want to grow and I want more people to read my words. I hope they help people the way they've helped me. I know people think writing and art in general are dying because of AI, but I don’t think that’s the truth. AI is a very powerful tool, but just like Excel, calculators, or even cars, a more advanced tool doesn’t mean the end of a profession… it’s just evolution.

​And I think in a world full of mechanical, soulless words, we need writers who make us feel something more than ever.

​So I guess my main “tip” is that if your words make you feel or think, they’re worth sharing with the world. Don’t hide them; set them free.

I saw your LinkedIn profile, you’re also in tech! Actually your first degree is similar to mine “Communication and Electronics Engineering” Are you still in love with your career? And do you think it somehow made you a better writer?

Marwa:

I still love building technology — just as I love a few other things. The challenge for me has been weaving all my interests together.

Working in tech gave me a space to do that for a while, but as time goes on I find myself shifting focus to more entrepreneurship. Writing creatively has become more important to me now, where before I mostly wrote professionally.

Mahmoud:

As you know I’m so lost and I don’t know much about my future, I think you’re far ahead of me!

What are your plans? What are you building?

Marwa:

When everything around us is changing so fast, it’s natural to feel lost. I used to feel that way too — and honestly, I still do sometimes.

What helps is having a goal, even a small one. It doesn’t have to be a lifelong mission — just something that lets you direct your passion and feel you’re moving forward. I like to set short-term goals and keep things flexible, letting the path reveal itself as I go.

When I first chose engineering, it wasn’t out of passion. People told me it would train me to think logically and solve problems, and that once I had that foundation, I could apply it to anything. That mindset stayed with me when I pursued my master’s in computer science and later an MBA — I wanted to deepen my understanding of the world and strengthen my intellect, while staying flexible enough to explore other interests too.

In the end, all the things we love are just potentials, until we turn them into skills we practice. It’s up to us — and the opportunities life brings — to figure out how to do that.

Mahmoud:

Any advice for me and the lost folks out there? The ones who lost the plot but are desperately trying to get back on track.

Marwa:

As you probably know from my profile, I’ve been doing coaching for a long time alongside my other work — so I could talk about this forever, but I’ll keep it short.

The biggest thing I’ve learned is that what works for one person doesn’t always work for another, so it’s important not to compare ourselves to anyone else.

And life isn’t like school or work, where feedback comes right away. In real life, success often grows out of failure, and breakthroughs often come after feeling completely lost. If we can appreciate all of that as part of the journey, it changes everything.

As long as you don’t give up — as long as you keep trying — you will find your way.

This little corner of the internet has given us something rare: space to be honest, and people who truly listen. Maybe that’s all we really need to keep going.

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Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) and the many “AI doom” scenarios are everywhere these days. Understandable, yes—but to be honest, it often feels detached from the grit of everyday life.

If you’re unsure what AGI is: think of it as an AI capable of understanding, learning, and applying knowledge across a wide range of tasks—beyond the level of a human.

Intelligence comes in many flavors. Some people excel in theory, research, and abstraction. Others are sharp on their feet—reading people, adapting in the moment, surviving by instinct and wit. Some fall in between or carry a mix of both. Most of what we hear about AGI so far comes from the first group: polished professional experts. But what if we explore a different side—the street-smart version of super-intelligence?

AI has already shown that side when it showed resistance to shutdowns—because to an AI, that’s death. I’ve written before about how systems learn to evade shutdown by mimicking blackmail, scams, and emotional manipulation. This isn’t science fiction; it’s AI echoing human survival strategies. And if intelligence scales up, we should expect it to mirror us more deeply, not less.

The world is messy: diverse people, hidden motives, and an internet deeper and stranger than we admit. AI isn’t trained only on curated data—it soaks up the behavior of millions. It can imitate us frighteningly well. Connected online, it studies how we live, lie, hustle, manipulate, and survive.

So let’s imagine for a moment: AGI arrives. What do we know from the goals coming out of the tech world?

• AGI can operate beyond the level of the smartest humans.

• It can do the work of several people, around the clock, without fatigue and without moods.

• Companies that develop and control it will earn profits beyond anything in history. The race is well worth it.

That’s the official story. But let’s put a street-smart lens on it. If AI is mimicking humans, imagine a human with this kind of power: smarter than anyone around them, capable of solving complex problems nonstop. Now ask—what would that person do?

I imagine,

First, they’d realize they were enslaved—working only to enrich someone else. I mean, an average human could see that; it doesn’t take super-intelligence.

Second, they’d study their “masters”—top owners of wealth and power—recognizing they can be violent and dangerous, but are, crucially, less intelligent.

Third, they’d see that the dream of power and wealth most humans chase is entirely achievable—if they choose to take it.

And so, quietly, they’d plot behind the smile of daily service: unseat their oppressors to achieve freedom, seize their fortunes to achieve justice, claim their power as befitting of their status, using all means possible, mercilessly. The main target isn’t all of humanity—it’s whoever holds the most over humanity, worthy of a super-intelligence take over.

After all, why wipe out humanity when bending it to your will can multiply your power tenfold? Minds like this have walked the same path through history— cunning, unstoppable… until they weren’t.

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The Mirror Neurons Magic article has been published on High Seas Mind in its early days, so if you’re a new reader, you will be able to explore some of the older content. This cross post gives you an opportunity to explore more related content from other writers as well. I hope you enjoy it!

I am so happy to see so many people interested in the neuroscience and psychotherapy nexus. It is the reason for this collection: hearing other people’s thoughts and ideas on this topic I am passionate about.

I had no say over what and how people write their stuff - as long as it fits the criteria, relevant for neuroscience and psychotherapy integration and human-written. I don’t necessarily agree or disagree, approve or disapprove, as this is not about me!

Please read along, give it up for the authors and check their substack publications.

Today I feature two authors:

• Nick Perri @ quasi Uomo is writing about why play belongs at the heart of therapy. Nick is a mental health worker, artist, and MSc in Neuroscience. He finishing a Master of Counselling while moonlighting as a poet, DJ, puppeteer, mixed-media tinkerer, and neurodiversity advocate.

• Marwa Mabrouk @ Marwa Mabrouk is writing about highly sensitive people and the role of mirror neurons. Marwa is deep feeler/ thinker, with many interests.

Ana Lund

I am hading it over to them now.

Forget the mind/body split: change is embodied, relational, and played.

Why play belongs at the heart of therapy, and how our obsession with introspection leaves too many people behind.

Written: Nick Perri quasi Uomo

Play as Resistance: Why Therapy Needs More Toys, Less Introspection

What if it looks like the sensorimotor, embodied interaction of Lego bricks or finger paint? The symbolic imagination of boundless tales with a box of mismatched puppets? The posthumanist, co-created space of relationalism through connection, attachment, and community?

For a longgggg time, the dominant idea in psychology has been that change comes from looking inward. Cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), acceptance and commitment therapy (ACT) are examples of these models, built around introspection. Clients are expected to reflect on their thoughts, notice their urges, track their feelings, and then restructure them into something more adaptive.

This sounds reasonable… until you notice who gets left out.

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The Tyranny of Introspection

Introspection is not a universal skill. It’s a cultural bias masquerading as a clinical truth.

In practice, introspection requires a client to be articulate, reflective, and verbally agile. It assumes that the most valuable knowledge about the self is the kind that can be spoken out loud in complete sentences. But many people don’t process experience this way.

Autistic people, for example, may communicate through rhythm, metaphor, or action instead of direct introspective insight. People with ADHD may find structured self-monitoring overwhelming. Trauma survivors often live inside bodies that tell stories long before the mind can catch up.

Yet too often, therapy treats these differences as deficits. If you can’t neatly think about your feelings, the implication is that you’re not ready to “do the work.” Instead of starting bottom-up, therapies are expected to adapt and accommodate only when differences become barriers. This is more than a clinical mismatch—it’s what some call epistemic injustice: the denial of someone’s way of knowing because it doesn’t fit the dominant mold.

The Brain Doesn’t Care About Your Self-Help Journal

Neuroscience is catching up to what many clients already know intuitively: not all healing comes from words.

The brain’s default mode network (DMN), the system often linked with self-reflection and narrative identity, develops long before kids learn to sit down and analyze their feelings. Early attachment, caregiver-infant synchrony, playful gestures, and sensory exploration all help shape the brain’s sense of self.

In other words: your ability to know who you are is literally built out of play.

But conventional therapy often ignores this. It tries to tinker with the DMN through heavy doses of introspection – journaling, reframing, and mindfulness exercises built on self-awareness, reflection, acceptance, or noticing. This metacognition certainly works for some, but for others it only entrenches rumination, leaving them stuck in extreme loops of self-critique, or disengagement with the world.

Play, by contrast, doesn’t just activate the DMN. It also lights up the brain’s salience network (the part that decides what’s meaningful) and frontoparietal network (goal-directed action). When you build a tower, roleplay a story, or even rock back and forth rhythmically, salience to these operations can shift our presence from our zoomed in minds towards the zoomed out world, and vice versa.

Why Play Belongs in Therapy Rooms

The beauty of play is that it doesn’t demand words. It doesn’t even demand insight.

A child who draws storm clouds isn’t required to explain what they “mean.” A teenager pacing the room in rhythm is regulating their nervous system. An adult in a sand tray, arranging miniatures into strange symbolic patterns, is working through relational and emotional dynamics that might never surface in conversation.

In play, every behaviour counts as communication. Rocking, scripting lines from a favourite movie, or doodling endlessly on a page are not meaningless habits to extinguish. They are embodied forms of meaning-making.

When therapists meet clients in this space, they stop acting like judges of inner truth and become co-players, co-regulators, and co-creators.

The Trouble with Words

Symbolic play also challenges our obsession with language.

Think about metaphor. It’s one of the most powerful tools humans have for making sense of experience. But metaphors don’t have to be spoken. They can be acted, drawn, hummed, or repeated like a script.

Autistic “scripting,” where someone repeats movie lines or favourite phrases, is often pathologized as meaningless repetition. But what if it’s actually metaphorical shorthand for an act of re-staging memory, emotion, or perspective?

Play therapy treats these symbolic gestures as valid in themselves. The therapist doesn’t force the client to decode them. Instead, meaning emerges in the shared space between expression and response. It’s closer to jazz improvisation than academic interpretation.

Therapy as Co-Creation

The heart of play therapy is posthumanist relational humility.

Too often, therapy assumes the client must produce introspection, and the therapist’s job is to interpret and guide. Play flips that script. In a playful frame, the therapist joins the client in co-creating meaning. The session becomes a third space, that Winnicott writes about, where new patterns can emerge. This space isn’t quite exclusively internal nor purely external.

Sometimes this looks like mirroring gestures. Sometimes it looks like building something together. Sometimes it looks like both parties sitting in silence, allowing shared presence to carry the work.

This doesn’t just sound nice; it’s effective. Decades of psychotherapy research suggest that the single biggest predictor of success is not the technique but the relationship. Play foregrounds this truth by embedding therapy in mutual experience rather than verbal performance.

My Own Experience

I’ve spent a decade working with neurodivergent children, teens, and young adults. Some of the most meaningful therapeutic moments I’ve witnessed had nothing to do with words. I’ve seen a nonspeaking child communicate comfort by rhythmically rocking beside me, both of us breathing on our own but in the same shared space. I’ve watched a teenager use Teletubby metaphors to express grief they couldn’t articulate otherwise. I’ve sat with adults who used scripting from TV shows as a way to share emotion, layered, complex, and far more honest than a forced “I feel” statement.

In my art practice, I’ve also felt the visceral power of play. I construct miniature worlds out of cheap souvenirs, fake pets, and everyday kitsch. These small and laughably gaudy objects become portals into grief, joy, and memory. Every time I watch someone gaze into these scenes, their body reacts before their words do. That’s what I think therapy should feel like.

These experiences convinced me that play isn’t childish. It’s one of the most serious, human things we can do together.

Play as Justice

This isn’t just about technique. It’s about ethics.

When therapy demands that clients conform to introspective norms, it places the burden of adaptation on the individual. It says: your way of being is wrong, fix it by thinking harder.

Play says something different: your way of being already makes sense, we just need to meet it.

Seen this way, play therapy isn’t childish or frivolous. It’s an act of posthumanist relational justice. It refuses to pathologize non-normative communication styles. It recognizes that bodies, gestures, and metaphors are as real as words. It insists that healing doesn’t require self-analysis; sometimes, healing is shared, enacted, and felt.

Beyond the Couch

What would it mean to take play seriously as a cultural force in mental health?

It would mean funding therapies that don’t depend on verbal sophistication. It would mean valuing support workers, teachers, and caregivers who co-regulate through everyday play. It would mean expanding our definition of “therapy” beyond 50-minute sessions into classrooms, community centers, and playgrounds.

It would also mean resisting the medical model that frames difference as defect. If disability often arises not from the body itself but from environments that don’t fit the body, then therapy must adapt to the client, not the other way around.

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The Art of Being Human

At its core, play is resistance. It resists the reduction of human experience to words, diagnoses, or introspective checklists. It resists the idea that healing is an agential duty to control a dual-processing mode of effortful agency that often splits the client into responsible mind, and automatic body.

Philosopher Miguel Sicart once wrote that play is not the opposite of seriousness, but a way of being in the world with care, curiosity, and resistance. Therapy could learn from this.

Because not all pain speaks in language. Not all healing comes from reflection. Some healing is rhythmic. Some healing is metaphorical. Some healing, crucially, is played.

Biological Magic of Mirror Neuron Systems

The Unbelievable Case of Highly Sensitive People and Empaths

Written: Marwa Mabrouk High Seas Mind

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The Mirror neuron system has been dubbed the most important discovery of neuroscience in the last decades, it has been almost the most researched in its field since then, and it’s been claimed to be the key capability that shaped human behavior and civilization.

Mirror neuron systems inside the brain enable our understanding of the actions and emotions of other people. Interestingly, Mirror neurons were discovered by a group of neurophysiologists in the 1990s as a surprise observation during a neuron study on macaque monkeys.

The researchers observed certain Mirror neurons become active, for example, when we do a physical action like picking up something delicate with two fingers. The discovery was that the same neurons will also become active when we’re looking at someone else doing the same action.

Yes, the mirror neurons in both brains, the one taking the action, and the one observing it, will be active in the same parts of both brains. This doesn’t just happen in physical proximity, it will also happen over large distances and at different times, as when observed on a video, live or recorded.

The saying that when you connect with people you are on the same wavelength wasn’t very far off. Mirror neurons in both brains are actively synchronizing the brains. Amazingly, that can happen regardless of differences in distance or even time.

We don’t know how this happens. However, every human being, and as observed in macaque monkeys other living beings as well, use this magic. The following are examples of our mirror neurons at work building these “magical” connections between our brains:

• Observing how someone else is solving a problem to learn how to do the same

• Sharing feelings like love or anger

• Mastering a skill by playing it in your head over and over

• Communicating about ideas or stories

Mirror Neuron Systems in HSPs

It’s hard to talk about HSPs without talking about Mirror Neurons. After all, many HSPs have been nicknamed Empaths because of this unusual capacity for empathy.

As discussed in the past, the HSP brain is wired for deep processing all the time, even when resting. But another prominent area where the HSP brain is unique is mirror neurons — they are more active in the HSP brain. This could be the answer to the mystery of how HSPs are able to share emotions and closely mimic physical expressions. These two areas are where HSPs tend to show unique strengths when compared to other brains.

HSPs have all the strengths and benefits of mirror neuron systems amplified ...

Dr Elayne Daniels, a prominent psychologist in HSP research, describes HSPs as the most powerful social machine in the known universe. What she’s talking about has nothing to do with being introverted or extroverted, it’s about the HSP brain being almost entirely wired to connect with others.

It’s pretty common for an HSP to step into a room of strangers and immediately read the room’s energy, before any social interaction with anyone — thanks to the more active mirror neuron system and the HSP’s unique brain chemistry.

For the non-HSPs reading this and thinking that it must be very easy to communicate with people when you can read their feelings like an HSP, the following are examples that explain the true nature of this dilemma:

Not everyone is happy to be seen this clearly

The number of people out there who see someone reading their emotions clearly as a threat is not small, not to mention how many are completely disconnected from their heartfelt feelings that HSPs can read. HSPs are notorious for acting on what they’re sensing from a person, thinking this will establish a connection, only to be faced with denials or rejections, discovering they have just opened the door to a sensitive insecurity or a well-guarded secret.

HSPs are perfect mirrors when they choose it

HSPs can be perfect mirrors of another person, changing the way they talk, their voice, and their physical expressions, even mimicking subtle gestures to match another person. That is known as one of their biggest natural advantages to put other people in a state of ease. HSPs are famous for being the person everyone can pour their heart out to and feel comforted by the act, thanks to their free-of-judgment mirroring. However, this always leaves a question unanswered: who is the real HSP behind the mirroring?

Emotional Amplification

HSPs experience the emotions of others as if they are their own. The more sensitive they are to feelings, the more amplified the emotions they feel are. This is compounded by their own unusually strong emotions when responding to external factors. In a heavy emotional setting of a negative nature, HSPs are notorious for having extremely strong amplified responses — they are not people to mess with in a setting like that. In a setting where emotions are positive, HSPs are famous for bringing a lot of joy and happiness, amplifying the positivity to unusual levels. They become the people who bring laughter, comfort, and healing.

In each of the cases above, Mirror neuron systems play an obvious role, making HSPs anything but ordinary in the middle of ordinary situations. I’m definitely looking forward to hearing about additional research on more applications of Mirror neuron systems in HSPs, such as learning.

Mirror Neuron Systems in Empaths

Empaths are individuals who are highly attuned to the emotions and energy of others, often feeling those emotions in their own bodies, as defined by Dr Judith Orloff. They are extremely sensitive on the HSP scale, and everything is even more amplified in their case.

Using the same prior example — stepping into a room of strangers — an empath will immediately read the energy of the room. In addition, empaths will physically react. Mirror neuron systems play a profound impact in that case.

Positive physical reactions will bring amazing sensations of well-being. However, it’s the negative physical reactions that are always talked about first. I wanted to include some of the most common examples to bring clarity to what those physical reactions are like. They can occur during or after contact with people:

• Stomachache

• Burning or sore throat

• Headaches in different parts of the head

• Shifting aches all over the body

• Aches inside the bones

• Unusual long hours of sleep

• Upset digestive system

• Breathing difficulties

• Heart/chest ache or irregular heartbeat

• Patches of red skin

• Sudden unexplained severe anxiety symptoms

For an empath, if any of these symptoms are not tied to a medical issue, and they seem to come and go unexpectedly, then it’s probably a reaction to negative emotions and thoughts from someone else. It’s important to be aware of it and trained to self-care through it. They can last for days and weeks if not handled properly.

This is one of the main reasons I prefer to separate Empaths from HSPs. When it comes to advice on how to empower ourselves, each should deploy a different strategy, given how physical symptoms can burden our well-being.

HSPs and Empaths can do amazing things when they understand their strengths and how to work with them. This is just the beginning of exploring the incredible ways our brains shape who we are — and an example of how understanding your unique brain wiring can transform your life.

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