by Jim Herbert
There are times when I feel like I was born with my volume knob turned up too high. It’s not just my voice that expresses the volume of my life. It’s my energy, my emotions, and my need to connect. I feel things deeply and I tend to express them the same way.
That sensitivity has always been both my superpower and my kryptonite. It’s what makes me great at some of the things I do in our MenLiving community, such as reading a room, sensing when someone needs a kind word, and noticing the subtle shifts in energy that others might miss. There is another side of that sensitivity though. It’s what makes me feel like I can barely stand to be in my own skin when I’m around others who are experiencing intense emotions. It’s also what makes me feel, at times, like a bull in a china shop—especially at home.
I live with two people I love dearly who are both on the spectrum. They are both exceptionally high sensory. Sound, smell, and touch can often be way too much for them. Which means there are moments when my natural way of being—that same energy that can light up a room full of guests at the restaurant—can feel overwhelming in the space we share together as our home.
For a long time, I thought the solution was to fix myself: to dial down both my volume and my sensitivity, grow a thicker skin, stop taking things so personally. I’ve spent far too long believing I’m too much and too sensitive at the same time, and plenty of people have confirmed that belief for me.
My sensitivity isn’t the problem though. In fact, it’s one of my greatest gifts. In my mind, what I really need to learn isn’t how to feel less—it’s how to be less reactive.
There’s a big difference between sensitivity and reactivity. Sensitivity is the ability to notice and perceive. It’s what allows me to connect, empathize, and love deeply. Reactivity is what happens when what I perceive overwhelms my system and spills out before I’ve had a chance to breathe. Lately, I’ve been practicing trying to live more in that space between.
Viktor Frankl once wrote: “Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.”
That idea has become a quiet mantra for me. When a sound that I make is too loud, or when I sense tension in the air, or when I feel misunderstood, I try to find that space. Sometimes it’s just one deep breath. Sometimes it’s a reminder: I don’t have to fix this. I just have to stay present.
In that small pause, there is opportunity—a chance for a new way forward with less shame, less self-blame, and a little less volume overall. I’m starting to see that sensitivity isn’t fragility. It’s awareness, and that awareness, when held with steadiness, is empowering.
When I hold that awareness gently, I become less of a “bull in a china shop” and more of a tuning fork. I can still feel the vibrations around me, but I don’t have to resonate with every frequency.
This also helps me remember that nothing in life is about perfection. I still overstep. I still get loud. I still react when I wish I hadn’t. But I’m learning that growth isn’t about erasing the parts of myself that feel too much—it’s about integrating them with care.
I think this is the quiet edge of evolution, especially for men: learning to stay open without coming undone. Learning to respond instead of react. Learning to trust that sensitivity is a strength, not a weakness.
Maybe that’s the real work of our time—to stop apologizing for how deeply we feel and instead learn how to hold that feeling with steadiness, compassion, and grace.
So here’s the question I’m sitting with this week, and maybe it’s one for all of us: What would it look like if more men gave themselves permission to feel deeply and respond gently?
I’m excited to live in that world. I’m excited to help create it. And I’m deeply grateful to be part of a community of men who invest in showing up as the best version of themselves every single day.
How do you adjust your own volume? I always love hearing back from you and look forward to crossing paths with you in a meeting soon.
