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Category: Vestibular
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Lavender Fields – Insta Heaven, Sensory Hell.
Have you visited a lavender farm recently? If not, chances are, if you use Instagram, you’ll have seen at least one beautiful photo of someone standing in a field of lavender.
Last summer I decided it would be fun to get some photos of me, in a lavender field, to use on this website. Yorkshire Lavender is about an hour and half away, so I persuaded the family it would be a fun day out (the promise of a pizza afterwards, at Pizza Express, was certainly not bribery…)
We didn’t have the best day for it, it was a dull and overcast, not ideal for the idyllic photos I had in mind, but hey … filters, right?
When we arrived the place was heaving. Who knew lavender fields were such a popular destination? Well, according to this article from the BBC, they’re doing a booming trade these days, thanks to instagram!

At Yorkshire Lavender there are terraced rows of lavender, with reasonably wide paths between them. It’s not the classic field full of flowers, like this one, that you might imagine seeing in France. So not such a wildly romantic photo op, but the paths make for easy access without damaging the plants, and there’s something appealing about the idea of walking down a lavender edged path. I imagined the heady aroma, wafting across, relaxing me as I enjoyed watching the flower stalks sway gently in the breeze…
Can you sense the but?
Before I start this little tale, I need you to understand something: I adore bees, I really do. But…..
Bees. Bees love lavender – I know this. I’ve planted it many times, to help save the bees. There’s some incredibly delicious lavender honey out there, that goes perfectly in a honey and lavender ice cream. I know all of this! But when I was thinking about standing for a photo in a field of lavender, bees were nowhere in my imaginings!
Have you seen the Michael McIntyre sketch about wasps and bees? If not, here you go, you might want to make sure your pelvic floor muscles are in full working order before hitting play.
My friend sent me the link because she recognised my type. She’s a wafter. I am a panicker! (Perhaps this should be a question in the Sensory Types Quiz..?)
Now before you imagine me running screaming through the lavender, I can assure you, I managed to contain myself. Bees I can just about cope with, wasps are what bring out the panicker in me.
No, the problem was something I couldn’t have anticipated.
It was the sound! I love the hum of bees, always have. But what I’ve never experienced before was walking down a bee runway!
The sound of humming surrounded me. It was incredibly loud, to the extent that I could feel it as a vibration.
It reminded me of the feeling of being on a ferry when the engine starts up.

Because the sound was constantly moving, it messed with my (very sensitive) sense of balance (vestibular system) even though I was on solid ground. It was the weirdest sensation, and I hated it!
Added to this was the fact that there were bees flying all around me as they moved from one row to another. I was desperately trying to control my panicker tendencies whilst feeling thoroughly discombobulated, which all added up to something that was pretty close to sensory hell! You may be able to detect some of that angst from the only photo that came out of the trip!
And to add insult to injury, the filters couldn’t magic away the effect of the dull skies. Hey ho. You live and learn.
I couldn’t have foreseen any of this, and to be honest, even if someone had told me it was a possibility, I probably wouldn’t have believed it could be so overwhelming.
Would it put me off visiting another lavender field? Probably not. Forewarned is forearmed after all. Having had the experience once, I’d be able to anticipate it, so wouldn’t be caught off guard. I could put some coping mechanisms in place, and go on a day when my sensory equilibrium was working in my favour. With all of those things in place, who knows, I might even ENJOY the experience!
Whilst I was disappointed that the experience hadn’t been the one I’d imagined, I didn’t beat myself up about it. I didn’t wonder what was wrong with me. I didn’t berate myself for days on end about ‘not being normal’ as I have countless times in the past. This time I just laughed, and chose to see it as another piece of the puzzle. That’s the gift that understanding my sensory sensitivities has given me, and my hope is that it’s the gift, as The Sensory Coach, I can give you too.
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No, That’s Not How You Feel
The toe dipping version:
I learnt that it isn’t fear that makes me avoid certain activities, it’s simply that the physical feelings they engender, make me feel unwell so I choose to avoid them.
The deep dive:
Ever since I can remember I’ve been hypersensitive to feeling.
There have been too many people who, for whatever reason, felt that it was part of their remit to attempt to alter my perceptions of the world around me.
If you are a Highly Sensitive Person, you too will have heard the oft shared piece of advice to ‘grow some thicker skin’. As though that were possible!
For me, this was never the greatest piece of advice anyway, as I literally have very thin skin – that translucent type where every vein can be traced, like the lines on a map. Some wear their hearts on their sleeves, I wear my thin skin on pretty much every inch of my body.
Of course the danger in all this unloading of others’ discomfort onto a sensitive child, is that the child grows up to see themselves as inherently wrong. This is not news!
Chances are high that, if you’re a Highly Sensitive Person, this sensitivity includes the physical; our outer sensitivity guides our inner sensitivity.
What is news, to me, is that, not only were my emotional feelings fair game for ‘reeducation’, but so were my physical ones. It’s only now, as I rapidly approach 50, that I realise how little I have understood about how having my physical feelings denied, and wronged, has contributed to this sense of not being right, or good enough.
When the world and its wife tells you that you don’t feel how you say you do, the outcome is a belief that your system is not to be believed. This is a very dangerous state of affairs, particularly if you’re a woman. I could write an essay on the myriad ways in which this is so, but that’s not my intention today, so rather than leave that hanging, here are a few links you may, or may not, want to explore.
How Doctors Take Women’s Pain Less Seriously
What If We Just Believed Women?
Cheating and Manipulation: Confessions of a Gaslighter
What I want to begin to share in this post, is how important our sensory typing is to how we experience the world. It’s a topic that I’ll be talking about a lot in the coming weeks, months and years.
For me, this new knowledge, here in relation to the vestibular and proprioception senses, has enabled me to see my life and experiences through another filter; my own – how revolutionary! This new insight has lead me to have more compassion for myself – again, revolutionary!
When I was younger I was often called ‘Clumsy Clara’ by family members. I don’t remember being particularly clumsy, but I do recall the nickname, so I guess I must have been!
My ballet teacher also taught gymnastics, which I really wanted to try, but she deemed me far too inflexible, so that was that. To be fair I was an ungainly dancer, which is probably why I was picked to be a Diddyman and a Womble in the show she put on. Talk about typecasting!
In secondary school I was one of those children PE teachers enjoy torturing. Though I was always good at sprinting, and was gangly enough to make a pretty good goal defence in netball, overall I was always more cerebral than physical.
I didn’t like rough and tumble, would not choose to go on fairground rides, panicked if I was somewhere high, didn’t like lifts or escalators, was claustrophobic etc. All of these things are true for me still.

I’m that annoying person who holds everyone up because they can’t just walk straight on to the bloody moving stairs! These ‘weaknesses’ were considered a nuisance, a failing, laziness, a challenge to be overcome, and a bloody great joke by my parents and wider family, to my friends, husband and children.
I remember some years ago a, particularly forthright friend, telling me she had never met anyone who ‘sat so much’! It’s a comment that has frustrated me ever since – when people visit, you sit and talk, drink tea, share food. Right? She was a very frenetic person though – one visit from her and her daughter is vividly imprinted on the minds of me and my eldest children. We were all left feeling as though a tornado had ripped through the house, and were exhausted enough to need to go and lie down after they’d gone!
I’ve pondered this ‘sitting too much’ thing a lot, and whilst it’s true that I live, as many of us do these days, a relatively sedentary life, I have always enjoyed walking – ie gentle movement.
At this point, if I tell you that I suffer with terrible motion sickness and bouts of vertigo, you might see the connection that no-one, including me, ever made.
I am an avoider (one of four sensory types, more on which another time) when it comes to movement!
It wasn’t that I was scared of all those things, it was simply that I did not, and still don’t, enjoy the physical sensations that accompanied them. More than that, they make me feel ill. I am highly sensitive to vestibular disturbances, and my poor proprioception means that I’m prone to wobbling and bumping into things.

This means that my physical ability to balance has a tendency to let me down; even more so in situations where my inner balance has been thrown off by movement that most people don’t even notice. When you’re on the edge of a cliff for instance, this IS pretty bloody scary!
Naturally then, my instinct has always been to avoid these types of situations. Which, if you don’t have any experience of these sorts of feelings, or have bugger all empathy, may well look like cowardice I suppose, but it’s not! It’s self preservation, based on information gathered over a lifetime, by a sensory system that differs to yours!
This has been a HUGE revelation to me, and makes me more determined to share what I am learning about the senses.
Thoreau said that ‘the unexamined life is not worth living.’ I’m inclined to agree.
Reaching greater levels of self understanding requires work. It is not idle, self indulgent, navel gazing, because out of it comes self compassion, which in turn grows our ability to empathise with others who experience the world differently to ourselves. There can be no denying that the world needs more people with empathy!
Self compassion is something which has not been part of my make up – no surprise when you’re conditioned (largely through misunderstanding) to feel that you’re just plain wrong, but my experiences in recent years have made me realise that it’s not optional. Not if we want to not only survive, but thrive. It’s such an important, and life altering concept that anything we can do to gain more of it is worth the effort.
This is part of the reason why I created my signature Self Compassion aromatherapy blend. No, this whole blogpost hasn’t been leading to a hard sell, and of course I know that a blend of essential oils isn’t a magic bullet, but it has been part of my recovery. The oils have been carefully chosen for their physiological as well as emotional effects – my cerebral self loves the chemistry behind aromatherapy- so I share it here simply as an option for others to experiment with, and yes, to enable me to pay my bills.
In Hindu traditions the senses are known as The Organs of Knowledge. I think that’s a lovely description. To understand the knowledge our senses have to share, we need to be our own research scientists; experimenting, observing, and drawing conclusions based on the evidence gathered.
That’s not navel gazing, that’s a life’s work. It’s my hope that The Sensory Coach offerings will help us along that path of discovery.
And if anyone ever tells you that you’re not really feeling how you say you feel, send them to me!