
Told You Are Too Sensitive or Too Anxious Your Whole Life? This Might Explain Everything.
Told You Are Too Sensitive or Too Anxious Your Whole Life? This Might Explain Everything.
By Kavita Sodha, BABCP Accredited CBT Therapist
Someone told you that you were anxious. And something in you knew it was not quite right. But they were so certain, and you could not find the words, and the feeling in your body was real enough that you started to wonder if they were seeing something you could not.
That moment, the moment someone else's misreading becomes your own confusion, is where a lot of people get stuck. And it is where I want to start.
What is actually happening when you pause
There is a group of people, around 15 to 20 percent of the population, whose nervous systems process information more deeply than average. Not more emotionally. Not more weakly. More thoroughly. They take in more of what is happening around them. They notice subtleties others miss. They need more time to integrate new information before they can move forward with confidence.
This is not a disorder. It is not shyness. It is not anxiety. It is a neurological trait, documented in peer-reviewed research and visible on brain imaging scans.
But here is what it looks like to the people around you.
It looks like hesitation. It looks like holding back. It looks like someone who needs convincing, or who might be afraid. And in a culture that rewards quick decisions and immediate confidence, that pause gets labelled. Usually without asking. Usually incorrectly.
The moment that changes everything
A client came to me after a difficult situation at work. Their team had a presentation, and a colleague had written part of the material. The client saw it for the first time shortly before they were due to speak.
They asked to go second. Not because they were afraid of presenting. They were not. They asked because they needed time to absorb new information before speaking confidently about it. That is how their nervous system works. It always has.
Their colleague decided they were anxious and suggested they go first to push through it.
The client said they were not anxious. The colleague did not believe them.
So they went first. And the overwhelm arrived exactly as they had known it would. Not the panic of someone afraid of being judged. The particular overload of a nervous system that had not been given what it needed to function well. Too much information, too little time, and nowhere to put any of it.
And then, inside that feeling, surrounded by a colleague's certainty and their own body's response, the client began to wonder: maybe I am anxious after all.
I want to stay with that moment. Because it is one of the most damaging things that can happen to someone whose nervous system works this way.
What happens when someone else's misreading becomes your own
When another person names your internal experience with confidence and gets it wrong, something specific happens over time. Their version of you starts to compete with your own.
You know you were not afraid of speaking. That part is clear. But you were overwhelmed. And overwhelm and anxiety feel similar in the body. Racing heart. Difficulty concentrating. The urge to escape. So when someone plants the idea that what you felt was anxiety, the body cannot immediately correct them. The feelings are there. The label starts to stick.
Over months, sometimes years, this becomes genuinely disorienting. You are no longer sure whether you are a person who struggles with presentations or a person who simply needs more processing time than most. You are not sure whether the overwhelm you feel in certain environments means something is wrong with you, or whether it is just your nervous system doing exactly what it is built to do in conditions that do not suit it.
And that confusion stops you from getting the right help. Because you end up trying to solve the wrong problem.
Why the two get confused and why that is not your fault
Here is the neuroscience. Not to overwhelm you with it, but because understanding what is happening in your brain is one of the most validating things I can offer you.
Anxiety is threat-driven. The amygdala, the brain's alarm system, fires because it has detected a perceived danger. Real or imagined, the brain believes something bad might happen. The question underneath anxiety is always some version of: what am I afraid of? There is a thought there, a specific worry, a thing the mind is trying to protect you from.
Overstimulation is load-driven. The brain is not scanning for threat. It has received more information than it can process at that speed. The nervous system is not saying danger. It is saying too much, too fast, not enough time. There is no fear thought underneath it. There is just volume.
The reason the two overlap is neurological and important. When sensory or informational overload is severe enough, the amygdala can interpret the overload itself as a threat and fires accordingly. The body floods with stress hormones. The physical experience becomes almost identical to anxiety. Racing heart, shallow breathing, the urge to get out.
And if this happens repeatedly, the brain begins to anticipate it. It arrives at certain environments already primed for alarm, before anything has even gone wrong.
So what started as overstimulation can, over time and without the right understanding, develop into something that genuinely resembles anxiety. Not because the person is anxious by nature. But because their nervous system has been repeatedly overwhelmed, never understood, and never given what it actually needs.
That is not weakness. That is what happens when the wrong map gets used long enough.
How to tell the difference for yourself
This is the part that matters most. Because once you have been told you are anxious enough times, you can lose access to your own accurate read of your internal experience. Other people's certainty gets louder than your own knowing.
So here is one question that cuts through it.
Am I afraid of something specific happening, or do I just need more time and space to process what is in front of me?
Sit with that genuinely. Not to dismiss what you are feeling but to locate it more accurately.
If there is a fear thought underneath the feeling, a specific worry about what might go wrong, what someone will think, how you might fail, that is worth taking seriously as anxiety and can be worked with directly and effectively.
If there is no fear thought, if the feeling would resolve with more time or less input, if you were not afraid of the thing itself but simply needed more space to take it in, that is overstimulation. That is your nervous system reaching its processing limit. Not falling apart. Not broken. Just full.
In the presentation example, the client was not afraid of speaking. Given enough time to absorb the new material the overwhelm would have resolved on its own. The problem was not anxiety. It was a nervous system that needed something very specific and was not given it. Those are two completely different problems with two completely different solutions.
One needs you to face a fear. The other needs you to give yourself time.
Trying to face a fear you do not have will not help. It will just add pressure to an already overloaded system. And it will confirm, wrongly, that something is broken in you.
What changes when you can name this accurately
The shift is not that the feelings stop. They do not, at least not immediately. The shift is that they stop being evidence that something is wrong with you.
When a client understands this properly for the first time, something very specific happens. They stop adding fear on top of overstimulation. They stop the second layer of panic about the panic. They stop reading their own nervous system as a malfunction and start reading it as information.
They also stop apologising for needs that are completely legitimate. The need for more processing time before a presentation is not a weakness to overcome. It is a reasonable accommodation for a nervous system that works at greater depth. The colleague who dismissed it was not more right for being more certain. They were just less informed.
That distinction, between a need and a flaw, is where a great deal of the work happens. And it changes things significantly.
If you have spent years being told you are anxious and something about this post has made you wonder whether that is the full picture, I would like to talk.
Here is what I know after years of working with people whose nervous systems work like this: the ones who feel most stuck are not stuck because something is wrong with them. They are stuck because they have been using the wrong map.
Book your free 15-minute consultation at livinghighlysensitive.com/free-consultation. We will look at what is actually going on and what might genuinely help.
You deserve support that actually understands how you work.
