Hypersensitivity

I know someone who is hypersensitive. The tiniest little imperfection in their physical environment seems to create the most exquisite angst for this girl that I love.

The seam in a sock.

The sound of someone chewing.

A nearly imperceptible breath of air from the automobile's ventilation system.

Exquisite angst . . . really.

Once you realize that harsh treatment simply plays into the hands of hypersensitivity, you know this is one fire you can't fight with fire. It seems most natural to confront the problem head on, to get in its face, to call it out.

But this just makes her squirm all the more. A desperate downward spiral.

I'll increase my sensitivity, and thereby support my baby in her plight. Fighting hypersensitivity with sensitivity, and a gentle touch.

I was wrong. I can fight fire with fire after all . . .