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The more you know: It’s not about you; it’s about me.
By Alex Johnson
Updated: November 24, 2021
Originally Published: November 24, 2021
When I was a child, I had a memorable birthday celebration at a local skating rink, but my behavior during that party is something my mom still reminds me about. I was upset, crying, and overwhelmed by classmates surrounding me. In retrospect, I now recognize that I was struggling with sensory processing issues. However, to my mom, I was just being “difficult.”
What she couldn’t grasp was that the cacophony of voices, loud music, and flashing lights made me feel as if I were trapped in my own skin. I had eagerly anticipated that party, but the reality was just too overwhelming for me.
Such episodes weren’t isolated incidents. Throughout my childhood, I often saw adults giving me confused looks while urging me to “calm down.” They couldn’t fathom why I reacted so strongly in situations that seemed trivial to them.
I consider myself a compassionate person, yet I often come across as moody or rude, particularly when I’m overstimulated. Even now, as an adult, I still receive that familiar bewildered gaze and the advice to “just calm down” during sensory overload. Ironically, those words are rarely helpful. Instead, they often make me feel invisible, overly dramatic, and even unhinged.
What other reasons could there be for feeling irritated when several people chatter at once? Or for feeling increasingly agitated while meandering through the chilly refrigerated aisles in a grocery store, where the buzzing of appliances and the cold air make my skin crawl?
After 27 years, I finally understood that my reactions weren’t just “excuses” for my behavior; they stemmed from an undiagnosed condition called Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD). While everyone has certain dislikes regarding tastes, smells, textures, and sounds, for some, these reactions can be unbearable.
I know that sound and touch are my primary triggers. So, when I’m tidying up and the television is blaring, my kids are playing on their devices, and one of them is peppering me with questions, everything is manageable until something minor – like stepping on a sticky spot with socks – tips me over the edge. People often think that small annoyances are the cause of my outburst, but the truth is it’s usually a buildup of numerous stressors, and what they see is just the final straw.
My perspective shifted when my 4-year-old daughter was diagnosed with SPD. I recognized the striking similarities between her sensory sensitivities and my own. While I don’t throw tantrums like she does, I often find myself overstimulated when she is, allowing me to empathize with her experiences.
Her diagnosis helped me understand that neither of us has anything inherently “wrong” with us. Adults often misinterpreted my sensory meltdowns as temper tantrums, and I learned to suppress my frustrations without knowing how to cope healthily.
Now, I’m on a journey to find constructive ways to manage overstimulation. I’ve learned that while my daughter actively seeks sensory input, I am the opposite; for example, feeling overly constrained by clothing or blankets sends me into a state of discomfort.
When it comes to sound, however, we share the same struggle. Loud noises are a common trigger for both of us, causing sensations that feel like chaos, even if the external environment is quiet.
I’ve never liked how I react when overwhelmed. The moment I snap, I become acutely aware of how my behavior may affect others. While I never intend to belittle anyone, I sometimes come off as irritable, and the frustration I feel inside is often visible on my face.
I wish others understood that my abrupt reactions are not personal—they stem from an internal experience that they cannot see. It wasn’t until my twenties that I learned about sensory overload, and even then, I doubted it applied to me.
Throughout my childhood, I learned to bottle up my feelings until they erupted. Now at 27, I am starting to discover healthier ways to cope with overstimulation. Putting a name to my reactions has been a crucial step towards dismantling a lifetime of shame. I wasn’t a bad person; I simply had undiagnosed Sensory Processing Disorder and lacked the tools to manage it.
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Summary:
This article explores the author’s experiences with Sensory Processing Disorder and its impact on her behavior throughout her life. From childhood misunderstandings to adult realizations, the author reflects on how sensory sensitivities shaped her interactions and self-perception. The journey towards understanding and coping with these sensitivities is emphasized, highlighting the importance of recognizing that such reactions are not personal but rather a result of an internal struggle.