So, I have spent a significant amount of time on this post and finally decided just to break it up into multiple parts. "Into the rabbit hole" will be a series on sensory perception from the inside out and comparatively between overstimulated and understimulated.
ENJOY:
If someone had asked me what it was like to have sensory perception issues a few years ago I would not have been able to put it into words that would have made sense. Even after reading Temple Grandin's book all I was able to say was that EVERYTHING was TOO MUCH. That is not quantifiable and mostly the response was 'just ignore it.'
Could you ignore it when:
- your clothing feels like sandpaper tearing off your skin,
- the fluorescent lighting is flickering right in the middle of your brain like fireworks,
- the sounds of the people around you just moving about resonates like the crash of the surf constantly smacking your eardrums,
- the texture of the fabric on the chair of the person next to you is catching their clothing and making a sound that causes your teeth to itch and your skin to crawl,
- the person's gentle tap to your shoulder hurts like they shoved a red-hot poker into you,
- the uneven edge of the nail you just broke [or chewed off] catches on everything which hurts your ears but you're not sure why,
and all of these things [and more] you have to deal with happen at the same time, constantly, every second of every day but you still have to smile and shake the hand of the person greeting you [though it feels as they just placed a deadWETfish into your palm] and keep thoughts and conversations going like a "normal" person while not flinching or making a rude face, or screaming at them to back away and STOP TOUCHING ME!!!
I think it has probably been proven that if someone is placed in a soundproof room [where all they can hear are the sounds of their own breath and blood] they will quickly lose their shit. So live in that box while carrying on all the activities of a usual day for 3 months. Then I'll visit you at the nut house and where you can tell me just to ignore it... Provided you can muster any response besides rocking and drooling on yourself.
For Alice the struggle is different yet similar. There are times when sounds [like our own voices or the media we are enjoying - music, TV, etc.] sound louder or softer than others perceive the same sound, or the light is brighter/dimmer, the smell is a pleasant whiff/horrible smog... but for Alice it is a constant struggle for enough sensory input: She sits at the buffet and starves [while I try to not vomit the excess onto the person next to me... enjoy your next crowded buffet.]
As a toddler, she would stuff her mouth; past the point of full and to the point of gagging; just so she could feel something on her tounge and between her cheeks. We used special oral sticks with differently-textured ends to rub inside her mouth to give her that sensory nourishment she craved and desperately needed.
Sometimes I have to intentionally overload one of my senses [usually hearing by playing my music and singing along] just so I can focus on whatever needs my attention. I loved driving my car and turning the sound up to the point that it filled the small two-seater with the vibrations of the bass and the beat and the mellow resonance of the singing voice. That was my squeeze machine and everything was okay once I made it to the car. Once I could no longer drive I had to find other ways to push the release button. On more than one occasion this involved JD picking me up and driving me around with the music loud in his car. Alice also needs extra stimuli to function but for her it isn't an overload of one sense to blot out the others but instead she has to meet one need [usually touch] so she can concentrate on anything other than the incessant need for sensory input.
