Feelings

I think I feel too much. That is what autism is most like for me. Autism is feeling everything acutely all the time. I literally feel everything. I feel every object in a room. I feel sounds and smells and tastes. I feel words. I feel emotions. I can’t say I feel differently than you because I don’t know exactly how you feel. I have never been you. But I can say that I feel everything physically. And it is exhausting…

I was telling a friend today that I think I love too much. Love for me is overwhelming. It makes my whole body tingle. Love is a burst of energy that penetrates every fiber of my being. It feels like it literally changes my DNA so that I am now connected to a person in a way that they are made a part of me. I love hugs because it feels like the energy inside of me finds a place to belong. Like the love inside of me connects with the love inside of someone else, and for a moment, I feel whole.

Joy is like that too. Joy is like a spring inside of me. It makes me feel like every particle in me wants to jump up and down. This is why I flap and jump up and down and smile like crazy, because the joy in me has to have somewhere to go. When I am “flapping happy”, I feel like I am flying. It is like the joy inside of me has come out of my skin and when I jump or flap, I’m releasing that joy into the world. It feels like the joy springs from me and dances in the air, and when it lands, it becomes peaceful, like it is lying on the ground watching the clouds on a cool spring day.

Unfortunately, depression and darkness are also things I feel acutely. Depression is like millions of tiny weights hanging from each hair, each skin cell, weighing me down with an enormity that cannot be seen from outside. And if the weight wasn’t already enough, it feels like there is a black hole in my chest. Opposite to the feeling of joy wanting to come out of me, depression feels like it sucks everything into me. It is a constant sucking force that seems to suck all of the air and light out of a room, making it difficult to breathe and to see anything other than the darkness inside of me.

Fear, joy, sadness, disgust, anger, and every other emotion that ever lives inside of me all have their own physical feeling attached to them. Each one is so powerful and all-consuming that I can hardly do anything else because my body is overcome by the feeling of each emotion. I think that this is why I shut down sometimes, because constantly feeling everything wears me out. And after feeling so many strong emotions, sometimes it is simply painful. Pain for me is like an exploding of every emotion. It confuses me, and I don’t know what will come out. I feel like Cyclops from the X-men before he learns how to control his powers. Everything comes out and I don’t even see what I’m destroying until after it’s done.

Advertisements

Life Savers

Tonight I had a meeting for church that lasted two hours. After about the first hour, I started getting restless. After another 20 minutes, I felt like I was dying inside. I pulled out the little ziplock bag I had brought with sour gummy worms and munched on those to get through the rest of the meeting. By the time it was over, I just about flew out of the chapel. Those gummy worms were life savers in that meeting.

Having autism doesn’t mean that I can’t do everything I need to do or that I can’t do what everyone else does. It just means that some things are harder, and sometimes I need more life savers than the average person. Granted, there are some things that I really can’t do right now (maybe someday, but not right now), but in general, I can do the important things given enough help.

Sometimes I feel like I need too much help. I feel like I am constantly in need of someone to save me from myself, from how I feel. There are some people that have literally been life savers for me throughout the years. They have talked me through suicidal thoughts and urges. They have helped ground me in situations where I felt lost and didn’t know what to do.

We all need life savers at some point though. There is a point where we all break or when things become too much for us to handle. Life circumstances and events and our physical, mental, and emotional states, all come together to determine where our breaking point is and when we get there.

For me, autism feels like taking in too much of the world. I feel everything. Sitting in a room, I feel like I can feel the gravity of everything around me. I feel the chairs and the lights and the people and the curtains and the jackets and the sounds. And it’s a lot. It’s a lot to feel every object and every emotion and every noise. And in loud rooms with lots of people shifting in their seats or writing on paper or even just breathing, my breaking point gets extremely close. If I have eaten and I am in a good emotional state and I am not in pain, I can usually handle it fairly well. If one of those things is lacking, I break pretty easily.

I remember one particular night when I broke more than I ever had before. I was at a camp for young single adults, and we were in a devotional meeting. I had been stressed from helping a friend move, and my mom had broken her arm, and I was in a period of severe major depression, and I had worked all day and then sat in traffic to get there, and the microphone was extra loud, and single adults tend to chatter a lot, and I was not feeling well physically. All of that added up to far more than I could handle, and I broke. The only thing I could think about was that I had to get out of there. I had to get away. It didn’t matter how. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. Luckily, I had a wonderful friend with me that night that understood and stayed with me and helped me get to a quiet place where I felt comfortable and could become okay again. I don’t know what would have happened that night without her.

I read about children and teenagers and adults with autism wandering off, and no one knows where they are. It is really not that we are trying to leave safety. We are trying to find safety. We are trying to get to a place where we can be okay again. Maybe if we had more life savers, we wouldn’t get to that point. Maybe if we could lighten some of our burdens, we wouldn’t reach our breaking point. There is not a one size fits all solution, but what I can say is that we need our life savers. I know I need mine, and I am so grateful for all of my life savers over the years. I don’t know where I would be without them.

Why I Break Down

I’m a pretty easy going person. If someone asks to do something at the last minute, I will usually say yes. The problem is that I don’t really have an accurate sense of time. I don’t think about how long things take, I just think about what I have planned for the day. And I don’t panic until what I have planned is getting to the point where I might not be able to do it. When my schedule fails is when my mind fails to process the situation. The world closes in and I want to disappear, and life becomes so overwhelming that I don’t know how to even start to deal with it again.

This is why I panic.

I remember in middle school when I was first diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome. We had an IEP and the adults in the room decided that I should be given more time to finish homework assignments as needed. I remember resenting this decision a little bit. After all, I was fully capable of doing everything my classmates were doing. Why should I be treated differently?

I now realize the reasoning. It’s not that I couldn’t do it. It’s that I panic. I don’t notice time going by until it’s too late. I don’t notice that I have worked on a tiny portion of my project until an hour before the assignment is due, and I haven’t even completed half of it.

The thing is, I get lost in the details. I get lost in the joy of creating, the beauty of being, the fun of doing. I get lost because I love it. I love life. I love learning. I love people. I love looking at the wheels of cars as they roll by and the shapes that make up buildings. I get lost in the little things that no one really notices. I get lost in simply being.

And it’s great. It’s wonderful. I love it and I love life. The problem is that you can’t do that kind of thing in this world. This world has demands and requirements and obligations. And as soon as I come out of being lost in the beauty, I get overwhelmed by the demands.

On the hard days, you might find me curled up in my car after work, trying to distract myself from all the noise and light and heat and pressure of the world. You might find me walking around with ear plugs in because it makes one less thing to deal with. You might find me rubbing my hands or arms in an attempt to relieve the tension inside of me.

No, it’s not that I can’t handle the world. It’s that other people don’t know the world. They don’t see the things I notice. They don’t experience sights and sounds like they are part of them. They don’t get lost in the beauty. It’s not that I can’t handle the world, it’s that no one can. No one can take it all in.

The thing is, most people don’t try. Most people filter it out automatically. They filter out what they feel is unnecessary to only focus on what they feel is important. But to me, to my mind, it is all important. And how do you handle the world when everything is important?

You get lost in it until it becomes so much that you break down.

SensoryBlogHopNew

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

Weather and Sensory Overload

It’s been raining and windy the last couple days. It’s not a big deal, but as someone with sensory issues, it can be overwhelming.

In addition to the weather, I have been in pain for the last couple weeks. When you’re in pain for so long, it becomes difficult to block out the sensory input as well as I usually do. The noise seems to exasperate the pain, and it becomes difficult to focus on being normal.

Last night, the wind seemed to howl outside my window with such intensity that I could hardly concentrate on anything else. I put some ear plugs in and tried to distract myself from the noise. The night before, the rain was so loud that I nearly had a meltdown. Eventually it stopped though and I was able to fall asleep.

Sometimes dealing with all this sensory input seems like a fulltime job. It’s a lot to handle, and I wonder how much I can take. It makes me grateful for when it’s easier though. I’m grateful for when the weather is nice, and I don’t have to worry about pain as much. We can’t always control our circumstances, but I always try to make the best of them.

 

SensoryBlogHopNew

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

Want to join in on next month’s Sensory Blog Hop? Click here!

Cleanliness and Sensory Meltdowns

I need cleanliness, at least in some form. Dirt, dust, small particles, grime, anything that feels grainy or slimy makes me feel uncomfortable. When I cook, I wash my hands every chance I get because I can’t stand the feeling of my hands being wet or dirty. The feel or sound of stepping on crumbs is literally painful. Even the smell of dust can cause sensory discomfort. I can’t relax when I see potential sensory problems. I know until I feel comfortable in my environment, I will be irritable and on edge.

Going back home was really hard for me. It probably seems like I’m always cleaning when I go visit my family. I sweep the house and wipe off the counters and do the dishes. The thing is, everyone expects me to participate and have fun, but all I feel is discomfort. I feel trapped by the dirtiness around me. Everything isn’t excessively dirty, but there are lots of little things that aren’t taken care of. I see dust everywhere and the floor needs to be swept and vacuumed before I can relax.

My family doesn’t understand it. They just see a jerk who gets upset with everyone for no reason. The truth is, I’m dying inside. I want to run away and breakdown in tears because I can’t handle the sensory pressures. It’s too much for me. I get anxious and feel like I’m suffocating. And I hate it. I hate myself. I hate that I yell at everyone and get overwhelmed. It also doesn’t help that I’m usually around more people and little kids so the sensory pressures are even more prevalent.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about all of this is I don’t actually have to touch anything for it to be uncomfortable. Just the thought of touching it makes me anxious. That’s not to say I keep everything in my life immaculate, but things are clean. I don’t leave anything where I could step on it or touch it and get dirty. I keep things organized and avoid allowing things to pile up.

I worry about things not being clean. I worry about being too busy to clean. I worry that I will become a monster, a jerk, unbearable because I can’t handle the pressure. One of my biggest fears is exploding at someone I love because I’m stressed about my environment. And it happens more often than I want to admit.
I wish I could explain that it’s not the person. I don’t get angry with people. I get frustrated by situations and take out that frustration on people.

I wish I could tell them I love them and I’m sorry for how I’m acting because I know it’s ridiculous. I can sometimes explain this later if I can find the words, but during the situation I am an uncontrollable mess. I hate how I’m acting and who I am but I don’t always see a way to escape. And if there’s no escape, the only way to cope is to blow up or break down.

And I hate it and I hate myself, which only makes it worse because I know I’m ridiculous but it’s hard not to be. It’s hard to keep the pain inside instead, to feel my insides churn, my skin feels like it’s holding in a million tiny armies trying to march out of me and the pressure builds in my head until I get a headache and collapse from the strain of it all.

This is what a sensory meltdown feels like. You try so hard to handle everything that causes you pain until you can’t take the pain anymore. You try to act normal and like things don’t bother you, but they build just under the surface until the pain and discomfort is too much. You try to escape if you can, to find a place to let go where you won’t hurt anyone, but you can’t always escape. Sometimes people won’t let you or you can’t get out of the store fast enough or there’s no where to go.

And then you become someone you hate and that everyone else probably hates too, and you break because it will never be enough. You can never hold it all in. But you try again the next time and the next time, and you just pray that you can keep the monster inside yourself away from everyone else.

SensoryBlogHopNew

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

Want to join in on next month’s Sensory Blog Hop? Click here!

Holiday Meltdowns

I love the holidays and spending time with my family, but sometimes holidays bring out the worst in me. Holidays are the perfect storm for a sensory overload. There’s an extraordinary amount of people around, which means more noise, messiness, and general sensory experiences.

Everyday noise is usually manageable because I have learned to cope with it. Sometimes it becomes stressful and I need to be alone for a while, but usually I can handle life pretty well despite all the noise. During the holidays though, I feel stressed all the time. There’s noise and people and lights and something going on all the time. I feel like I’m in a tornado of constant motion and the noise swirls around me suffocating me, agitating like a blender grinding ice.

This constant commotion of emotions and sensory overload has led to some meltdowns this holiday season. Unfortunately, my family has been the recipient of my inability to handle everything. Luckily, I have been better this year than in the past. Still, I have been frustrated by my meltdowns or explosions of emotions.

I just hope that people are understanding. I hope that if you have a family member or friend with autism or sensory issues, that you understand that the holidays are harder for us. We try to participate and be kind and hold ourselves together, but if we break or snap, please understand that it’s not you. I promise we’re trying. I promise I’m trying. It’s just a lot to handle with so much going on.

Weighted Blankets

It’s amazing what a few extra blankets can do. In the summer, I usually sleep with at least 3 blankets. Two comforters and one soft blanket. When I am not feeling well or it’s a little colder, I can sleep with up to 10 blankets.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized it is not the heat, but the weight that makes the difference. I do get cold more easily than most, but the reason I need extra blankets to help me fall asleep is the weight.

Sleeping with enough blankets that they press upon you is like being hugged all night long. Some people think that people with autism don’t like hugs, but the truth is most of us probably do like hugs. We just need to expect them and be prepared for them. If we are not ready for the hug, it can feel more like abuse than a gesture of love. It has gotten better for me over the years, but before if someone hugged me unexpectedly, it felt like it would leave bruises from the force of it. However, if I expected it, it was the most amazing feeling in the world. It is like a relief from the sensory overload I experience all the time.

I don’t get nearly enough hugs, but I am very grateful for the ones I do get. I am also grateful for blankets that feel like hugs and help reduce the sensory stress so I can sleep at night.