Tag

sensitivity

Big insight.

A hugely important realization that I was guided towards is:

When I dread going out, when I don’t want to “be social,” when the thought of being out with friends seems more than I can bear, there is a reason for it. And the reason is: because I am not showing up in my true self. When I show up with my Shadow, with the happy-go-lucky “Hi! Everything is great! How are you?!” I am not being the real me. And that’s exhausting. And quite honestly, I would imagine, unpleasant. I think I’ve done this my entire life, so I don’t even realize when I’m not being the real me.

So I am practicing showing up in my true self, and leaving my Shadow at home. And if that means saying, “I’m doing well — a little down today, not sure why,” that’s okay. I don’t have to have a reason for feeling sad. I don’t have to understand why I’m sad. I don’t have to justify it. To the people who get me, really truly love and get me, it shouldn’t matter.

I’m working on it.

Never met anyone who does this….

I can smell emotions in weather. I go outside each day and the air either smells calm, happy, scary, etc.

Yes, I know this is weird. No, I don’t know why it is.

Maybe it’s a part of my extreme sensitivity and porous-ness. I know that my mom and brother all have some sort of synasthesia/mixing of senses – – seeing colors for days, 3D visual representations of dates and calendars in our brains, etc.

But then, there’s this for me. I usually don’t say a word, but sometimes it slips out: “Do you smell that air, it smells SO calm!” and then…cue the weird look, and the “Um…I didn’t know air smelled like emotions.”

 

The end.

It was a wonderful summer. The kids had a great time, the staff enjoyed themselves, and I loved (almost) every moment. There is something so unique to camp. Working outside, breathing in fresh air for 8 hours a day. Seeing the kids swim and boat and do arts and crafts but also teaching them interpersonal, social thinking skills to make changes and last a lifetime. For a seven week program, we do some pretty great work with them. Today was our last day. I had been dreading this for about two weeks now. The anticipation is what is so hard for me — knowing each moment is the “last” of something. Despite the heartwrenching tears I cried after the last car pulled away, I’m glad it’s finally done so I don’t have to anticipate goodbye anymore.

If it’s this hard for me, and I am (relatively) neurotypical, I cannot even begin to imagine what this is like for our campers. Their sensitivities, fears, rigidity that come with their autism and their souls are magnified during the last two weeks. Meltdowns are frequent, behaviors regress. I can’t imagine what it’s like. For seven weeks, they spent their days safe, loved, nurtured, helped, guided, and most importantly, around adults who cared and around kids who were like them. It’s a safety-zone for them. A safe haven. And then they realize: not only is camp over, but SCHOOL is starting. For many of them, school is a place where they’re bullied. Left out. Anxious and depressed. Fall behind. Left alone.

I pick up on all of their energies, their fears and worries and dreads. I’ve felt it all the past two weeks — I am porous and permeable like they are, and I have felt it. And oh, it hurts.

Quick thoughts

Today was so beautiful that every time I looked at the bright green leaves sparkling against the beaming blue sky, I wanted to burst into tears from the intensity swirling around inside of me.

Which made me think — is that how my students with autism feel, all day long? Sensory experiences magnified times 100 — and in times like this, more pleasurable than most people know. But conversely, in other times, worse than anyone could imagine.

Sleep

It never fails to amaze me how sensitive I am to lack of sleep. When I say that I need at least 6 or 7 (ideally 8+) hours a night, I don’t just mean because I’m tired the next day otherwise. I mean because otherwise, my head goes crazy. Without sleep and rest to give my brain a break, it goes into overdrive. The thoughts, the fears, they all magnify. I lose the ability to shut off, or at least decrease somewhat, the absorption of other people’s sorrows and emotions. I am so permeable on a daily basis, but without sleep, there’s no stopping it — every feeling, every emotion, every thought that every person is thinking goes right through me.

Jumping out of my skin

I’m not comfortable in my body. No, not body dissatisfaction or hatred. Sensory-wise. My sensory systems are going haywire, and lately they’ve been doing so more and more often.

I’ve never been diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder But, I’ve talked with enough professionals and co-workers to know that I most likely do have some form of SPD. I can’t remember if I had it as a child. I think for me, it goes very hand-in-hand with my sensitivities and intense cravings for things in general–colors, sounds, emotions, visual sights, etc. That’s another post in and of itself; I don’t know how to even begin trying to explain that. But, I wonder if when I was younger, my body was calmer because I craved everything else. Or if I was so active that my systems didn’t have time to freak out. Or if I ignored it just like I ignored my body for years. All I remember is constantly shaking my leg up and down and my parents asking if it was because I was anxious. I used to say “no,” knowing it wasn’t, but didn’t know what it was.

The point is, it’s getting to me now. Sitting with clients all day, and then sitting in class for 3-5 hours all night is really hard. Friends laugh (kindly) when they see me shaking my legs up and down, bouncing in my seat, wiggling nonstop. They know it’s “that thing she does,” where “she can’t sit still.” But there’s more to it. It’s not that I’m bored in class or want to stretch. It’s feelings I can’t even begin to describe. The sensitivity component where the lights start to hurt my eyes, every molecule on my body gets itchy, I feel the fabrics on my skin, the chair hurts my back, I feel it all. And the seeking component, where simultaneously I desperately need to be moving, shaking, jumping, walking. I need weight on my lap to calm me down and sometimes I need tight clothes or loose clothes or high socks or low socks. But there’s nothing I can do about it. And it builds and builds until I feel like I’m going to explode.

It’s so frustrating. It’s all the time. I have to sleep with a pillow on my legs, for weight. I have to sleep with a pillow between my knees. So many little things I need to do, and at least those ones I CAN do it. It’s the times like when I’m in class where I feel sunk. My body is fighting against me and I can’t do much about it.

It’s a little isolating. I know so many kids with SPD. I work with upwards of 50 of them. But it’s okay for a child to use a cushion on their seat, use a fidget toy in class, take movement breaks, bounce on a bouncy ball. It’s not okay for an adult to do that. I don’t know any adults with SPD. I don’t know how they cope. I don’t know any adults with SPD who also experience seeking symptoms of those other things — colors, visual sights, emotions, etc.

I’m not even sure what the point of this is. But I so rarely bring it up to anyone because nobody truly gets it and I don’t think I have the words to explain it. So I’m trying, I’m starting.

This song always makes me teary

“Ordinary Miracle” – Sarah McLachlan

It’s not that unusual
When everything is beautiful
It’s just another
Ordinary miracle today

The sky knows when it’s time to snow
Don’t need to teach a seed to grow
It’s just another
Ordinary miracle today

Life is like a gift, they say
Wrapped up for you everyday
Open up, and find a way
To give some of your own

Isn’t it remarkable?
Like everytime a raindrop falls
It’s just another
Ordinary miracle today

The birds in winter have their fling
And always make it home by spring
It’s just another
Ordinary miracle today

When you wake up everyday
Please don’t throw your dreams away
Hold them close to your heart
‘Cause we are all a part

Of the ordinary miracle

Ordinary miracle

Do you want to see a miracle

It seems so exceptional
That things work out after all
It’s just another
Ordinary miracle today

The sun comes out and shines so bright
And disappears again at night
It’s just another
Ordinary miracle today

It’s just another
Ordinary miracle today