🌿 When the World Feels Too Loud: A New Path for Sensitive Nervous Systems

 

Wired for More: Reflections from a Family Physician on Hypersensitivity, Head Injury, and the Healing Power of Presence

Author: Dr. Carlos Yu, MD
Family Physician | Presence Facilitator | Ajax Harwood Clinic


Abstract:

As a family physician with over three decades of clinical experience, I’ve come to recognize a unique challenge in patients who, after head trauma, become overwhelmed by the very fabric of daily life: sound, light, touch, thought. These individuals are often neurodivergent or constitutionally sensitive to begin with. Post-injury, their nervous systems seem to become over-tuned, leaving them navigating a world that feels too much. What I’ve observed clinically—and come to believe deeply—is that the way forward is not through sedation or avoidance, but through presence. This article explores those lived observations, personal reflections, and emerging scientific support for the Presence-Based model of healing.


Real-Life Story: The World Too Loud, Too Bright

I recently sat with a patient who’d been hit on the head during a recreational soccer game. A couple of weeks later, she found herself retreating into dark rooms, avoiding restaurants and grocery stores, and wearing sunglasses indoors along with noise-cancelling headphones just to survive a conversation. “Everything is too much,” she said. “The light, the sounds, even people’s voices—I can’t think straight.”

She’s not alone. I’ve now met many patients like her, often bright, sensitive, high-performing people who, after injury, feel like their nervous systems have gone into overdrive.


The Hypersensitive Nervous System: A Clinical Pattern Emerges

Over the years, I began to see a pattern. A subset of patients who had experienced mild traumatic brain injuries, vascular events, or even psychological trauma would go on to develop a persistent form of hypersensitivity—especially to sound (hyperacusis), light (photophobia), and often emotional or cognitive overload.

What struck me was not only the intensity of their symptoms, but the chronicity. Long after any measurable injury had healed, their nervous systems remained reactive. Their lives had become a negotiation with the environment. Sunglasses indoors. Earplugs in crowded places. Cancelled plans. Social withdrawal. Hypervigilance.

Many of these patients, I noticed, were already highly sensitive before their injury—empaths, deep feelers, or individuals diagnosed with ADHD, PTSD, or migraine-prone nervous systems. And they suffered longer. Recovery seemed elusive.


The Role of Avoidance: When Relief Backfires

Out of necessity, these patients often develop patterns of avoidance. And while avoidance provides short-term relief, my clinical suspicion—and now supported by research[1][2]—is that it contributes to long-term sensitization.

Avoiding sound by wearing earplugs constantly can lead to auditory deconditioning. Over time, even moderate noise feels painful. Similarly, dark adaptation from chronic sunglasses use indoors increases photophobia. This is the paradox: the very strategies people adopt to cope may be amplifying their suffering.


A Shift in Perspective: What Is Experience, Really?

I started asking myself: what is it that makes a sensation become suffering?

I’ve come to understand that experience is not just the raw sensory input. It is the product of three interdependent variables:

  1. Sensation – the actual stimulus: light, sound, heat, emotion.
  2. Attention – how much awareness is being focused on the sensation.
  3. Judgment – the mental interpretation of the sensation. Is it dangerous? Is it welcome? Is it a threat?

To explain this, I often use a simple example:
Imagine putting hot pepper on your tongue. That’s a sensation. If you’re paying attention, you’ll likely experience it more vividly. But if you’re deeply distracted—say, watching an intense film or caught in conversation—you may barely register the spice unless it’s extremely strong. Attention amplifies or dulls the experience.

But attention alone isn’t enough. The final layer is judgment—and that’s where things get personal. If you enjoy hot food, the heat of the pepper might feel exciting or pleasurable. If you dislike it, it might feel irritating or painful. The same sensory input, with the same level of attention, yields a completely different experience.

That’s because judgment is cultural, conditioned, and often unconscious. And yet it powerfully shapes our relationship with discomfort.


Pain as Information, Not Enemy

This understanding has reframed how I support my patients. I often explain: “Pain isn’t the problem—it’s the messenger.” If we respond to pain with fear and suppression, we lose the opportunity to learn from it. But if we can meet pain with presence, we can begin to listen. To distinguish signal from noise.

This doesn’t mean spiritual bypassing or denial. It means becoming attuned to the experience without collapsing into it. Not flinching away, but gently noticing.


Presence Therapy: A Pathway to Re-inhabiting the Body

Out of these insights, I began developing a practice I now call Presence Therapy. I hesitate to call it therapy, because there’s nothing to fix. It’s a way of inviting people back to the here and now, into an honest relationship with what is arising.

Presence Therapy blends:

  • Ear acupuncture (NADA protocol), an evidence-based approach supported by acudetox.com,
  • Subtle sensation awareness training to uncover equanimity at the sensory level,
  • Group integration to learn from shared experiential insight and restore a felt sense of safety in community.

The work is not about changing the content of experience, but changing our relationship to it.


Conclusion: Invitation into the Unknown

I believe many of the patients suffering from post-injury hypersensitivity are not broken—they are simply more tuned. And this tuning can become a strength when met with compassion, structure, and presence.

We are not done learning. This is a living inquiry, and I invite others—clinicians, patients, and curious minds—to join in the exploration.

If you’re interested in learning more or participating in Presence Therapy, feel free to reach out. I currently offer an experiential course for physicians and wellness professionals who want to understand this approach firsthand.

Sometimes the path forward begins not with more effort, but with stillness.


Feeling curious? You’re invited.

If this reflection resonates with you and you’re interested in exploring further:

  • Start with the Sensory Sensitivity Reflection: A short guided inquiry to explore how you relate to your own nervous system and sensitivity.
  • Ready to connect? Begin your Presence Therapy intake below.

Before You Try Ketamine, Read This.🌿

Ketamine Is Just a Door. What Matters Is Where It Leads.

In recent years, ketamine has emerged as a curious player in the world of mental health and consciousness work.


Once known mainly as an anesthetic, it’s now being explored for its potential to relieve depression, anxiety, and even existential distress. Some receive it in a clinical setting; others in underground or ceremonial containers. It’s gaining traction—and understandably so. People are looking for something that works. Something that feels different.


This month, the Ketamine Research Foundation released a free, well-grounded publication:

👉 Guidelines for the Personal Use and Clinical Administration of Ketamine


It’s a valuable read for anyone considering ketamine-assisted therapy—or simply trying to understand the terrain.


But as a presence-based practitioner, I want to offer a wider lens.


Because here’s the truth:


Ketamine is not the medicine. You are.


Yes, it can be a powerful doorway. But the experience around the substance—your mindset, your environment, your readiness to meet what arises—matters far more than the molecule itself.


In the language of altered states, we call this set and setting.


It’s not just about where you are and who you’re with. It’s about the safety you feel, the stories you carry, and whether the space welcomes your full humanity.


Some people find this with ketamine. Others find it in silence, in nature, in a single moment of being truly seen.


At the Ajax Harwood Clinic, we don’t prescribe medications. But we do work with consciousness. With deep patterns. With the ways you’ve learned to survive that are no longer serving you.


Presence—not performance—is the core of our work.

Not just coping. But actually waking up to how things are.


If you’re curious about ketamine, I encourage you to read the guidelines above. Learn what’s happening in the U.S. and consider how it may ripple outward. More importantly, explore your own intentions. What are you really seeking?


Because no matter the path you choose—medicine or no medicine—what you’re longing for might already be closer than you think.


If you’d like to explore this kind of work, I invite you to connect with me.

We can talk about what’s moving in your life, and what’s possible from here.

👉 Learn more about Presence Therapy


With grounded care,

Dr. Carlos Yu

Ajax Harwood Clinic

From Siloes to Synapses: Reflections on EMRs, AI, and the Future of Care

From Siloes to Synapses: Why I’m Finally Hopeful About EMRs, AI, and the Future of Care

By Dr. Carlos Yu


After 35 years in family practice, you’d think I’d have seen it all. But I’ll be honest—this moment we’re living through? It feels like the beginning of something radically new. Especially when it comes to digital health.


A colleague recently asked me a few pointed questions about EMRs and how I use them. The questions were practical—but they unlocked something much bigger. So here’s my take, in blog form, on where we are, how we got here, and what’s quietly unfolding before our eyes.




1. What manual work outside of your EMR do you do that you wish it did?

Let me count the spreadsheets.

Despite decades of development, most EMRs still don’t do the things that actually make clinical life easier—like sending group invitations, automating intake, or tracking attendance for wellness programs.


I still juggle a patchwork of Google Forms, emails, PDFs, and sign-up links to do things that should be simple.

The irony? The data is already in the EMR—it just can’t do anything useful with it.




2. Do you interlink your other workflow functions with your EMR? If not, why?

Only partially—and with a lot of duct tape and goodwill.


I’ve recently started using JaneApp to manage bookings, intake, and group attendance. It’s early, but promising.

That said, most EMR integrations still feel like awkward bolt-ons.


Why?

Because most EMRs weren’t built to empower.

They were built to bill.

Limited APIs, vendor silos, and architecture that assumes the physician is the problem, not the user.


We’re doctors, not IT departments.

We need tools that just work—not ones that need a master’s in systems design.




3. How much time do interoperability issues take away from the clinic’s staff?

Let’s just say…

If I had a dollar for every piece of information manually retyped, refaxed, rescanned, or hunted down because System A couldn’t talk to System B—I’d have enough to fund a startup to fix it.


These inefficiencies chew up hours every single week for each staff member.

Worse? They burn out good people.

And for what?




4. Will the real solution arrive before I finish building my workaround?

Probably.


Honestly, by the time I get my current system stitched together, I suspect a beautifully integrated, off-the-shelf solution will already exist.

The pace of innovation is astonishing.


So I’m watching with a strange mix of awe, curiosity, and hope.

My hunch? By the end of 2025, we’ll see something elegant, intuitive, and actually designed for clinicians.

Fingers crossed.




5. Why were EMRs so siloed in the first place?

Here’s the part no one likes to talk about.

The technology to integrate healthcare data has been around.


The issue wasn’t technical.

It was political.


Siloed data served certain interest groups.

Whole layers of bureaucracy, business models—even job security—were built around fragmented systems.


Meanwhile, the public—understandably concerned about privacy—was hesitant to support full integration.

That’s changed.


The interest groups are still there. But public opinion is shifting.

People want their data to move with them now.


That shift in awareness is the real pivot.

It’s what opens the door to interoperability—not just policy or tech, but permission.




6. The AI paradigm shift is real.

Here’s what’s different now:

With AI, we don’t need perfectly structured, relational databases with neat little columns and rows.


AI can work with messy, unstructured, multi-format data—and pull out clinically relevant insights in real time.

All it needs is access.


Give it access, and AI can do the rest.

I don’t know exactly how it works (somewhere in a digital cortex, I assume), but I know this:


The old rules no longer apply.

The database now lives… somewhere inside the neural net.

(I know—sci-fi vibes. But it works.)




7. The key now? Lean in.

Some physicians are still wary of using AI.

Totally fair—it’s new, it’s fast, and it can feel like a black box.


But I’ve started using it in my practice—and honestly, it’s already changed how I work.

From scribing, to session planning, to helping patients make sense of their own patterns—AI is saving time and amplifying clarity.


I’m not trying to replace myself with a robot.

I’m just trying to work with the machine to make space for the things only humans can do: listen, connect, understand, and care.




Final Thought

We are on the edge of something transformative.

Not just in technology—but in how we think about care, connection, and collaboration.


As physicians, we don’t need to wait for perfection to begin.

We just need to start experimenting.


Because the future of healthcare isn’t just arriving…

✨ It’s learning. ✨


🌿 When the World Feels Too Loud: A New Path for Sensitive Nervous Systems

  Wired for More: Reflections from a Family Physician on Hypersensitivity, Head Injury, and the Healing Power of Presence Author:  Dr. Carlo...