To paint you a picture: I am writing this on a Thursday evening, after a full day of work, in my new apartment in Brussels. I moved here two weeks ago, right before starting a new job. I am sure many can relate, but moving and starting something new at the same time is enough to make anyone feel disoriented. But if you are a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP), you can probably already imagine what my head feels like right now: full, foggy, and quietly buzzing.

For those who are not familiar with high sensitivity, a professional once explained it to me like this: imagine that the average person’s brain has a funnel that filters out excess stimuli. Only a portion of what enters actually stays. For HSPs, that funnel does not really exist. Every sound, tone, expression, light, or emotion passes through and lands deeply. Nothing slips by unnoticed. It is a constant state of absorption, a rich but often exhausting way to experience the world.

When I first learned about being highly sensitive, I had mixed feelings about the label. Labels can feel confining, as if they box you into a single story. But for me, the discovery was liberating. Knowledge, after all, brings clarity. Suddenly, my lifelong “too muchness” made sense. I read everything I could find on HSPs, eager to understand what this meant. I learned that it exists on a spectrum; no two HSPs are alike, but many of us share an intensity of feeling, deep empathy, and a low tolerance for overstimulation.

The hardest part was not accepting my sensitivity, but realising how little the world is designed for it. Our systems reward speed, decisiveness, and resilience, often mistaking quiet reflection for passivity and deep feeling for weakness. Work, academia, even social spaces are rarely built to hold pause, quiet, or the slower rhythm that sensitivity sometimes demands.

As a woman navigating leadership, this becomes an even sharper edge. The world often expects women to be empathetic, but not too emotional; strong, but not too assertive; thoughtful, but never paralysed by thought. For an HSP, walking this tightrope can feel like a daily act of translation: softening, adjusting, masking, in order to fit in.

Yet, I have also learned that sensitivity can be a form of leadership in itself. Feeling deeply means perceiving deeply, sensing atmospheres, reading what is not said, creating safety and connection in spaces that often lack it. My challenge is to turn sensitivity into strength, not by hardening it, but by allowing it to lead in its own way.

Being highly sensitive in a fast, noisy world is not easy. But maybe leadership, in its truest sense, is not about being the loudest voice in the room, but the one that truly listens: to others, to oneself, and to the quiet signals the world keeps sending.