The Gentle Rebel Podcast

This post elaborates on the sensitivity research section of The HSP Owner's Guide.







Differential susceptibility is a key concept in high-sensitivity research. In simple terms, it means that the more sensitive you are, the more your environment impacts you. As a highly sensitive person (HSP), you might notice that some people thrive in situations where you feel discombobulated. Conversely, when conditions feel right, you may experience more intense joy, connection, and growth than others.



It’s the idea that some people are more responsive to their environment—for better or worse. For HSPs, this heightened responsiveness is a defining trait linked to their depth of processing, shaping how they experience life. However, it’s important to remember that not all HSPs are the same. Sensitivity is just one part of who we are, and how we respond to our environments can vary widely.



https://youtu.be/GIIKRuy5TOw



What is Differential Susceptibility?



Differential susceptibility means that the more sensitive someone is, the more influence their environment has on them. We might think of it like a spectrum of responsiveness. On one end, some people are like sturdy structures, able to adapt to a wide range of conditions without much change. On the other hand, many HSPs are finely tuned instruments that process their environment in depth. This can allow them to thrive in supportive settings but may also make them more vulnerable in harsh ones.



For many HSPs, this means they are deeply affected by their upbringing, current environment, and the people around them. In favourable conditions, they may flourish more intensely than others, finding creative flow, experiencing strong empathy, and having deep insights. In unfavourable conditions, they might struggle more than others, feeling overstimulated or drained, unable to utilise the and share the fruits of their high sensitivity.



This heightened responsiveness isn’t a weakness—it’s a unique way of engaging with the world that comes with challenges and strengths. That said, again to reiterate, not all HSPs will respond the same way. Sensitivity interacts with other aspects of personality, life experiences, and individual differences.



How Does Differential Susceptibility Shape Our Lives?



Differential susceptibility shows up in tangible ways for many HSPs. Here’s how it might play out, maybe you recognise your own experiences in these examples:



Growing Up: The Impact of Early Environments



Supportive Upbringing: If an HSP grows up in a nurturing environment—where their sensitivity is understood and valued—they are more likely to develop strong emotional intelligence, creativity, and resilience.



Challenging Upbringing: If an HSP grows up in a less supportive environment—where their sensitivity was dismissed or criticised—they might have learned to hide their true self, leading to feelings of disconnection or self-doubt.



For example, imagine an HSP who grew up in a chaotic and unpredictable household. If there is constant noise or tension, that person's nervous system is more likely to be dysregulated, overstimulated and seeking safety from unsafe sources. They may assume the "tiny adult" role, feeling responsible for trying to keep the environment 'in balance' by fawning, people pleasing, monitoring moods (over empathy). But if that same HSP had grown up in a calm, supportive home, they might have thrived, using their sensitivity to connect deeply with others and appreciate life’s beauty.



Adulthood: Creating Nurturing Environments



Favourable Conditions: When HSPs are in environments that honour their sensitivity—like a peaceful home, a supportive workplace, or a close-knit community—they often bring incredible strengths. They may notice what others miss, create spaces of warmth and connection, and approach challenges creatively and empathetically.



Unfavourable Conditions: In overwhelming or unsupportive environments—like a stressful job,

May the road rise to meet you.



My note from a slow coach this week reflects on Baltic endorphins, some internal torment due to a decision made by my past self that my present self didn't appreciate, and a poem contemplating whether adventure is always just around the corner. It's an excerpt from a journal entry a couple of weeks ago when I was in Finland.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_VzkTNi53E







I’m still feeling invigorated from last night's dip in the Baltic Sea. I don’t know if it’s the exhilaration of spending 90 seconds in 4-degree (Celsius) water or the satisfaction I feel from following through on my intention. Something caught me when I looked across the water a few days ago—a pull I couldn’t ignore. The idea of getting in the water was great. Until it was time to do it.



What was I thinking?



The two hours leading up to my plunge were filled with antsy-pantsy pacing and flip-flopping. I was not amused by my decision. Still, I knew that if I didn’t go through with it, the regret of missing this opportunity would far outweigh the momentary despair of doing something I knew would be wildly rewarding (once I resurfaced and was safely ensconced in the sauna—my happy place).



This morning's inner calm is a blend of satisfaction and physical aliveness. The sauna not only offered a delightful reward for completing my challenge but also enhanced the experience. The contrast of fire and ice creates a unique sensation.



Forever on the horizon



This morning, I am returning to the list of phrases and ideas we developed at the start of our month of “Adventure” in The Haven. I had intended to use one each morning in my journal practice, but it hasn’t happened yet. No problem, I am up for it today. Now.



I spin the wheel, and it throws “Adventure is waiting just beyond view” onto the screen. I don't think it's a saying, but it feels familiar. Similar to the idea that adventure (or growth) lies on the other side of your comfort zone.



I’ve always had a complex relationship with these platitudinal sayings. They carry kernels of truth for particular situations but are often espoused as universal, all-encompassing statements of fact.



May the branch rise to meet them



My eyes are drawn through the window. My first coffee of the day is on the cabinet beside me. Adventure is waiting just beyond view. Those words feel coarse to me here. Itchy. Like an irritant on my skin. I can see a squirrel moving effortlessly through the trees and a crow perched on a breeze-flexed branch above, and I wonder if they ever wonder about these things.



It's tempting to get caught up in the assumption that everything good is just beyond view. It’s the engine of consumer culture, the ideology of endless striving. Like a perpetual mirage, we see the reward, but it moves further as we get closer.



"Just a little further" becomes a mantra in the meditation of hustle. Advice is cheap and contradictory.



I am interested in how we can develop a more nuanced and healthy relationship with growth, purpose, and flow in life.



If adventure is forever around the corner, what am I overlooking right here? To feel settled without settling and expectant without expecting.



Isn’t this moment the adventure that was just around the corner from that previous one? I think of the old blessing: “May the road rise to meet you.” Maybe that’s the real adventure—the road meeting us where we are.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjJXAL40MC4







May the flow rise to meet you



From the edge of this perch,I strain my neck to watch a squirreldart, weightless, certain of the branchesthat will reach out and catch herwith every flight, twist, and descent.



Is it true that I can find anAdventure waiting just beyond view?



If I round the corner.If I push the button.If I make the call.If I am patient.If I lead.If I trust the process.If I take a step.If I listen.If I dare.If I follow.If I let this grow.If I am brave.If I am gentle.

In a world obsessed with productivity, competition, and the "hero’s journey," Natsu Miyashita’s The Forest of Wool and Steel shines a quietly revolutionary light on something altogether different.



This book is a balm for those who’ve felt out of step with society’s narrow definitions of success or crave a deeper, slower, more meaningful way of living.



In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, I explore what I took as its key themes and why they feel so radical in today’s hustle culture.









Beyond "Finding Your Purpose"



Society often frames purpose as something we discover "out there" - a preordained destiny waiting to be unlocked. But The Forest of Wool and Steel shows us something subtler: purpose isn’t discovered in that way; it’s woven through our responses to chance encounters.



The protagonist, Tomura, stumbles into piano tuning after a random school errand. What captivates him isn’t some grand mission but a moment of sensory awe:



"His whole body trembled. It was like hearing colour."



This moment isn’t about the piano giving him purpose; it’s about how the piano helps reveal what was ready to resonate within him. The novel suggests that any object, experience, or moment can become a doorway to the forest if we're listening.



High Sensitivity as an Ordinary Feature of Humanity



Unlike narratives that treat sensitivity as a flaw or a superpower, Miyashita normalises it as simply part of being human. Tomura and his mentors experience the world with a depth of processing.



One tuner feels exhausted by public telephones, billboards, and the dirt on the road. He has learned to recover through a metronome’s rhythm.



Tomura often needs time to process decisions, rejecting opportunities before slowly embracing them - a familiar experience for many HSPs.



The book’s quiet power lies in its refusal to pathologise or glorify sensitivity. Instead, it shows how deep attunement - to sound, environment, and subtlety, is the source of growth and meaning.



The Question of Success



Tomura’s apprenticeship defies every expectation of the "hero’s journey." There are no villains, no competitions, no triumphant climax. Instead, his growth is slow, iterative, and deeply personal:



How long until I can make that sound I heard on that first day?



The novel suggests that true mastery isn’t about conquering a craft but collaborating with it and understanding with more than the mind.



In a culture obsessed with optimisation and "levelling up," the seasonal, non-linear approach we witness here feels quietly radical.



Outgrowing Hustle Culture



The book gently critiques society’s obsession with measurable success. When Tomura’s brother mocks his belief that a piano’s sound contains "the whole world," it mirrors how modern culture dismisses wonder in favour of utility.



Yet the novel celebrates the "useless", the wasteful, and the ordinary:



Knowing the names of trees



The taste of olive oil-drizzled eggs



The way light glistens at dawn



These moments aren’t "productive," but they’re where meaning lives. As Tomura reflects:



"It felt to me as though nothing was a waste, but at the same time, everything was on some level a colossal waste."



This paradox is the heart of the book’s rebellion: what if the "small" things are the big things?



Why We Resist Slowness (And How to Stop)



Critics call the book "slow" or "uneventful", but that’s the point. Our discomfort with its pace reveals a deeper truth: we’ve been programmed to equate speed with value.



Tomura’s mentors teach him that people assume "brightness" is a synonym for better. But it's not that simple. Similarly, the novel invites us to reflect on our relationship with depth and darkness:



Are we afraid of stillness because it confronts us with ourselves?



Do we mistake urgency for purpose?



What if the "forest of wool and steel" (the unseen, sensory world) is where real creativity lives?

When you receive help, do you perceive it as a transactional burden or as a gift?



How do you support the people, ideas, and art you admire? Do you feel disappointed when they go against your views, or do you willingly allow them the freedom to grow and evolve into whatever they might become, despite potential disagreements?



https://youtu.be/Ueyw7nSI6jc







Last year, during a Haven Phrase Maze exploration around the prompt “The Money Changed Everything,” we discussed what makes a gift a gift. We asked whether, once given, the giver of a true gift can have any justifiable feelings about what is done with it. Or if a hope or expectation turns a gift into a conditional transaction. For example, when we give someone a present, we might expect them to use it in a particular way (and not to sell it on, exchange it, or give it to someone else, for an acceptable time at least).



What impact does this obligation have on the receiver? How does this relate to our engagement with artists, public figures, and one another?



Conditional vs Unconditional Support



Are we conditional patrons, offering support only when we agree with the other person? Or are we unconditional patrons, standing by them because we believe in their how and why, even when we disagree with the substance of their particular "what"?



This is on my mind because of a comment I received on a recent YouTube video. Someone explained why they disagreed with something I had said, which is fair enough. But I was struck by the intended sucker punch at the end of the comment...



“Unsubscribed.”



That word was like a weapon; it felt like an attempt at punishment and behaviour modification. It focused on the surface rather than the source.



I know that subscribing isn't a gift, but I couldn't help but wonder if a similar mechanism exists in the distinction between conditional and unconditional gift-giving.



This is why I don’t tend to ask people directly to subscribe to my podcast, videos, or social media. I want it to be a choice, not a favour or transaction. I leave it for people to come and go as they like, with no pressure either way. If the time comes for us to go separate ways, that's fine. It happens. We don't owe one another anything. We've just had a nice ride along together for a bit.



Unconditional Patronage and Disagreement



Do we tie our support for people to WHAT they think or HOW and WHY they reach their conclusions?



Think about the creators, artists, or figures you follow and admire. Do you find yourself withdrawing support when they say or do something you disagree with? What would it look like to support them unconditionally, focusing on their how and why rather than a particular what?



Over the years, I have come to support people whose WAY of thinking I respect and value. Most people I follow express views I disagree with occasionally (in some cases, a lot), but I sincerely appreciate the how and why behind their ideas. The process inspires me as much as, if not more than, the outcome. It's only if their values (the drive of their why) change that I tend to consider whether or not I want to continue supporting them. It can happen.



There is a flip-side to this coin...



“Subscribed”



It can feel validating when someone agrees with something I say and tells me they are subscribing or following me because of it. However, there is a subtle pull that can occur here. The connection between the statement they agreed with and their choice to subscribe creates a conditional presence. I might feel the pressure: "To keep them happy, I better keep saying similar things." This can lead to a slippery slope toward mediocrity, self-censorship, and audience capture - forces we see in abundance today.



When we engage like this with people, we subtly encourage them to appeal to the crowd, avoid risks, and conform to expectations (to appease followers and provoke adversaries) rather than exploring new possibilities and navigating the...

People may fear giving credit because they worry it will diminish their status. But research shows the opposite is true: sharing credit actually boosts respect and trust. This paradox lies at the heart of status insecurity, a psychological trap that drives maladaptive behaviors and undermines relationships, careers, and personal wellbeing.



In this episode of The Gentle Rebel Podcast, we explore the vicious cycle of status insecurity, its impact on individuals and society, and how we can gently rebel against its allure. We’ll also consider the story of self-help author Mel Robbins refusing to acknowledge poet Cassie Phillips or the pre-existing "Let Them" movement in her recent book. Does this move reflect elements of status insecurity?









What Is Status Insecurity?



Status insecurity arises when individuals feel their social standing is unstable or at risk. This can stem from comparisons with others, societal pressures, or personal failures. According to research by Katherine Hoff, Derek Rucker, and Adam Galinsky, status insecurity triggers a self-perpetuating cycle:



Status Insecurity: Doubts about one’s social rank or standing.



Compensatory Consumption: Buying luxury goods or status symbols to "prove" worth.



Financial Strain: Overspending leads to stress and anxiety.



Reinforced Status Insecurity: Financial and emotional strain further undermines self-worth.



Cycle Repeats: The individual doubles down on status-seeking behaviors, worsening the cycle.



This cycle is particularly prevalent in consumer-driven cultures, where status is often equated with material wealth and individual achievement.



The Reluctance to Share Credit



Status insecurity is fueled by the fear that acknowledging others’ contributions will diminish one’s own standing. Yet, studies show that sharing credit increases respect and trust. As Adam Grant shared on Instagram:



"Sharing credit doesn't detract from your success. It displays your character. 17 studies show that when people feel insecure, they hesitate to celebrate others—and fail to earn respect."



Ironically, withholding credit can damage credibility over time. When individuals prioritise image over integrity, they risk eroding trust and undermining their long-term reputation.



The Mel Robbins Controversy: A Case Study



The recent controversy involving self-help author Mel Robbins and the "Let Them Theory" may illustrate the dangers of status insecurity. Robbins presented the "Let Them Theory" as her own idea, omitting any acknowledgement to Cassie Phillips, whose viral "Let Them" poem and tattoo movement led to Robbins' discovery.



This decision may have stemmed from the pressure to maintain her status as an innovative thought leader in a competitive industry that celebrates stories of "self-made" figures. Yet, as the truth has emerged, her credibility has been questioned, with many followers expressing disappointed and even feelings of betrayal.



Robbins’ experience is a cautionary tale: prioritising status over transparency doesn't go down well in the long run. Honesty about the theory’s origins could have enhanced her reputation, demonstrating humility and collaboration—qualities audiences value.



The Broader Implications of Status Insecurity



On Individuals: It leads to stress, anxiety, burnout, and self-sabotaging behaviors like overworking or people-pleasing.



On Relationships: It fosters competition, jealousy, and transactional interactions, making genuine connections harder to form.



I once knew someone trapped in this mindset. Every conversation turned into an opportunity to boast about their achievements and experiences. Over time, the group grew exasperated, and this person was inadvertently left out of the proverbial weekend brunch invitation. Their presence created tension and unease because they believed that name-dropping, one-upping, and status-signalling were ways to impress rather than frustrate us.