That’s how I felt last night at the neighborhood bar celebrating St. Patrick’s Day.
A cat will turn its ears toward a sound. If there are too many sounds, the cat looks scared and will run away. I’m like the cat when it comes to sound because it’s like my ears are turning toward each sound, but when there are hundreds of sounds, I start feeling all wound up and I get a fight or flight response going.
Here’s the story:
John (love of my life and professional extrovert) asked if I wanted to meet the kids and their friends (they’re older) at the local haunt for a St. Paddy’s day beer. I like them, so I said, “Sure.” (My name is Eileen and I have curly, reddish hair and I have freckles, so I have a right to celebrate it!)
Enough parentheses. I will get on with the story. They were sitting at a table against the wall, but in the middle of the dining/bingo/karaoke area. The only spaces left to sit were at the end of the table facing the wall.
The place was packed because it was happy hour and soon-to-be bingo night. I sat and smiled at everyone because they were joking and laughing. In minutes I started to feel confused, but didn’t register why quite yet. Then I just watched people and said nothing but a word or two. I could hear every noise in front, to each side, and behind me. The noises were like needles shooting by the hundreds into my head, one after the other, non-stop. I tried to make them go away by looking at the floor and at my beer.
John knew the look on my face as I grabbed my coat and said, “I’m going to stand outside for a while.” It didn’t help. I sat back down and took the abuse from the noise. My brain confusion mounted; my breathing got shallower; my temperature increased; my sweaty palms started; and a hurting headache came on like a migraine. It was harder than usual to look at people and I could feel myself whining without making a sound. I couldn’t think.
“I have to get away, but I can’t because it’s socially incorrect and John wants to socialize,” I thought. The corner booth was open so we moved there and I thought that would be the end of my problems because I could sit in the corner and calm down. Not. I could barely focus on the rapid-fire conversation. I didn’t know where to look. Plus there were so many people that my visual field became very confused.
On the way home, we stopped at Target, and I waited in the car. Every little sound in the parking lot stabbed me in the brain. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t even move. It was very difficult to talk to John and to understand what he was saying as we were driving home.
Evening was supposed to be for some work I had to finish up, but it ended being no-brain TV night instead.
Today, I feel better. I woke up to the sound of John making coffee, and that’s a find sound for this Irish girl.
Thank you for sharing this. You have no idea just how enlightening this is! I’ve always known about the sensory processing issues with my son, but never really understood it from that point of view – the stabbing of it, the pain, the confusion.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for this post, this blog!