Chipping Through Chaos: The Inner Journey of a Highly Sensitive Golfer

I used to think something was wrong with me. Why did I feel like I was going to pass out over a simple chip shot? Why did my hands tremble, my heart race, and my mind spiral when no one else seemed fazed?

It took me ten years—and one failed chip shot after another—to realize that I wasn’t weak. I was a Highly Sensitive Person in a game built on stoicism, silence, and unspoken pressure.

The Inner Battle

It was a picture-perfect bluebird day in the Colorado Rockies—75 degrees, no wind, not a cloud in the sky. I had done my spiritual, mental, and physical preparation. I was ready. I was committed to playing from the archetype of the Creator—the one who plays with imagination, flow, and freedom.

I have been open about my struggles with the chip yips. My intention was to embrace them with full awareness. But intentions don’t always come to life the way we envision them.

I started strong. A bombed 280-yard drive down the middle of the first fairway. A beautiful sand shot that floated high and soft from a green side bunker. It was an easy par. I was grounded, breathing, present.

And then it happened.

The yips.

After flushing an 8-iron 176 yards on the third hole, I was just over the green on a tricky chip. I could feel the eyes of my playing partners, or maybe just the imagined pressure of needing to perform. I chose my hybrid, which I had practiced to avoid the twitch.

It didn’t matter. I yipped it. Topped it a few feet. Blackout.

The rest of the round was a blur. I hit 85% of fairways, but only 30% of greens. Everything inside 100 yards became a soul-level struggle. I wasn't just missing shots—I was losing awareness. My Presence Score dropped to 55%. It felt like I blacked out during almost every chip.

Beyond Golf

This isn't about golf. It's about healing. Awareness. Presence.

I had a beautiful day on the course with strangers who became friends. I hit great shots. I laughed. I enjoyed the sunshine. And still—I felt the sting of knowing I’m playing far beneath my potential. Not because I need to be perfect. But because I know what I’m capable of when I’m free.

This is soul evolution.

A Highly Sensitive Soul

For most of my life, I didn’t know I was a Highly Sensitive Person. But taking Elaine Aron’s test opened my eyes: I answered yes to nearly every question.

Her research reveals that 15–20% of the population carries this genetic trait. It’s not a disorder. It’s not a flaw. It’s not shyness or fear. It’s sensitivity at the nervous system level. It’s deep processing. Empathy. Emotional depth. Overstimulation. Insight.

For years, I thought it was a curse. I was told, "You're too sensitive. Lighten up. Toughen up."

But now I see it differently.

As an HSP, I feel everything. The vibe of my playing partners. The weight of silence. The fear of not being good enough. I want everyone to have a good time. I want to play perfectly. I want to be liked. And when it doesn’t go as planned, I spin.

I know all the "tools": breathwork, visualization, spiritual rituals. But when that first yip happens, it all starts moving too fast.

I rushed shots just to avoid being seen. I chipped before my partners arrived, ashamed and embarrassed. I felt unworthy.

And then, in the quiet of meditation the next morning, I heard this:

"My subconscious is trying to keep me safe. It’s time to stop worrying about what others think. It’s safe to be me."

Making Peace With the Yips

The yips are not the enemy. They’re the body trying to protect me. A trauma response. A cry for safety.

Moving forward, I will be working on thanking the yip monster.

"Thank you for trying to keep me safe. I see you. I love you. I am good. I am safe. I no longer need you to protect me this way."

I get to love all of me—my sensitivity, my shadow, my struggle. I get to be imperfectly perfect. I don’t need to fake having it all figured out to help others. In fact, that’s what makes me relatable.

What If Grayson Murray Had Known?

The tragic suicide of PGA Tour golfer Grayson Murray shook the golf world. Grayson was open about his anxiety, depression, and battles with alcohol. What if he, too, was a Highly Sensitive Person?

An empath who never had a framework for understanding himself?

What if he had known this trait was a superpower, not a curse?

I think about him often. And I dedicate this part of my journey to his memory. To all the men out there silently suffering, unsure why they feel so deeply, why they collapse under pressure, why they struggle to stay steady when the world tells them to be stoic.

A Call to the Sensitive Ones

If you've ever yipped a shot and felt shame. If you’ve ever felt like your emotions make you weak. If you’ve ever felt too much and wished you could feel less.

Take Elaine Aron’s HSP test. It could change your life.

And if it turns out you are a Highly Sensitive Person, let me say this:

You’re not broken.

You’re beautiful.

You’re not weak.

You’re wired differently.

You’re not alone.

You’re one of us.

Golf is hard. Life is harder. But for those of us with tender souls and deep hearts, this journey isn’t about conquering others.

It’s about mastering ourselves.

As Bobby Jones said, "Golf is about conquering oneself."

This is my path now. Not to be the best golfer. But to be the most present. To use golf as a path to healing. To live with my whole heart.

To play and live without armor. And to never give up on myself.

Troy Ismir

Presence Based Golf Coach

Founder and Creator of Inner Power Collective

www.innerpowercollective.com