I wasn’t sure quite how I was going to put this, but I knew it was something I was going to have to say sooner or later. After much internal debate and struggle, I’ve settled on this phrasing:
I don’t do well with ambiguous sensory input.
Let me explain. I don’t like being in a dimly lit room (actually dark is okay, I don’t sleep with all the lights on). I don’t like very soft music (especially at a restaurant, where the noise of people doesn’t quite drown it out), television (although subtitles help with this one), conversations (if you’re going to whisper, please don’t do it so loud).1 I don’t like a faint smell that comes and goes, whether it’s good or bad. I don’t like being tickled (like really, really, really don’t like being tickled) and I am oh-so-ticklish. Etc.
I do not do well with sensory input that doesn’t just come right out and state its intentions. The ambiguity makes me cranky. There is no other word. Not angry, not scared, not disapproving, not uncomfortable. Cranky. Get off my lawn with that dim light and barely discernible music!
Adam likes to leave lights off and curtains mostly closed when it’s especially sunny so the apartment stays, if not cool, then at least somewhat cool-ish. I’ve tried to get on board with this, I really have. But the ever-so-slight eye strain of it just puts me in a bad mood. So I turn on all the lights.2 (We have three in our main living space.) I feel better immediately. Similarly, a song just at the edge of hearing? It confuses my sense of the key and feel, sometimes end up sounding like a completely different song. And I do not like that one bit. So I turn it up. Often I end up turning it up loud enough to hear it over my own singing, once I recognise the song and figure out what verse we’re on.
As for quiet conversations, well, an unhealthy dose of paranoia helps along the moods that come up in response to those. Especially if there’s laughter.
I don’t know what causes all this, or even whether “all this” is an “all this” instead of a bunch of “these,” but I suppose it could be somehow connected to anxiety – either caused by it or causing it. Maybe both. Maybe it’s part of a cycle, occurring when I’m anxious only to cause more anxiety. A feedback loop. Such fun.
My basic sense of it is that I’m uncomfortable knowing that sensory input exists without having access to it.3 I don’t necessarily need the sensory input but I don’t like it being barred to me. Either I want to see what that blob on the dresser is or I don’t want to know about it. Turn on the light, oh, that’s right, my nasal spray that I forgot this morning. I want to be able to sing or dance along to the song if I feel like it, or I don’t want to know about it. I’ll either enjoy it or turn it off, but I need to identify it first. I want to be able to follow the dialogue of a show or movie or I’m not interested in watching it. I may not be interested in watching it once I find out what the dialogue is like, but at least it will be an educated decision.
I want to know you’re not talking about me, or I don’t want to know that you’re saying something in secret. I just… don’t. I prefer to know what I’m smelling and where it’s coming from or I don’t want any smells. If I wanted smells I wouldn’t use unscented everything.4 I want… well, okay, anything from handshake to hug to massage5 is acceptable if I know you reasonably well, but if you’re not being careful not to tickle me, tickling is dangerously possible. Sometimes even if you are being careful not to tickle me. Ugh.
It isn’t that I like everything loud and bright and in my face either. In fact, as with weather, I just don’t seem to like extremes. The in-my-face extremes don’t make me cranky, though, they make me more of the other words. Angry, uncomfortable, disapproving, scared. Especially loud bass-y music makes me feel a bit panicky, to be honest, which as I’m sure you can imagine is a challenge for someone wanting any kind of relationship with the music scene. I have hope that this could be a reprogram-my-brain situation, stemming from existing anxiety.
But this sensitivity to the other extreme, the dim, the quiet, the gentle, the indistinct, I don’t know that I believe it’s something I can train away. I would love to be corrected, of course, but I think it’s all a part of something I just have to live with.
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1 Just in case you’re wondering, a Sensory Processing Disorder self-screening test did not suggest this would be something to look into for me. Auditory Processing Disorder seems unlikely as well.
2 Don’t worry, I turn them off when I leave the room.
3 This is definitely something that carried over to actual information-information too. I hate not knowing things.
4 Except my once-a-week deep conditioner and the carefully selected hand soaps.
5 I have some issues with carrying tension… everywhere.
I think that’s my new favorite phrase for this week. “Ambiguous sensory input” is a phenomenom that I was familiar with, but never had the words for before. Something that pings at the senses but isn’t quite in the range can drive me to distraction as well. I really would prefer the real deal over the shadow of the experience. Thanks for putting it into words so well!