I don’t know whether to feel happy or sad, shocked or elated. For the whole of my life I have struggled to cope with repetitive noises, movement or touch no matter how well intentioned that touch is. And for the whole of my life, I have been punished, rejected, ridiculed and berated for being over-sensitive, awkward, and plain difficult. I never met any sympathy or empathy. Often I have joined in with this negative image, feeling totally unacceptable and I struggled with my self-esteem, confidence levels and endured chronic depression. Fortunately I have improved immensely in the last ten years with the (almost) unwavering love of my husband and my closest friends. The best therapy for me was to be believed, tolerated and occasionally distracted. I can enjoy meals out, evenings in by the telly and a relaxing massage but I still hate being kissed, any inadvertent touch or the sound of someone swallowing near me. In the early hours of Sunday morning I googled some random words about the way that I feel and came upon the Sensory Perception Disorder website. Looking through their checklist I ticked almost every box under auditory, visual and tactile perception. Far from being a psychological problem, it is a neurological one and has been recognized since the late 1960’s. So why has no-one recognized it in me? I have had years of counselling and two years of medication but to no avail and in all that time it wasn’t spotted. I have confronted the problem over and over again until I am sick of relating my early history to complete strangers. This morning a book “Too loud, too bright, too fast, too tight” by Sharon Heller arrived and it could have been written about me. These phobic type responses have blighted my life at times, making it difficult for me to attend lectures, family get-togethers and to have meaningful relationships and it’s amazing that I was able to get through University or to work in an office environment at all. The good side is that I think these feelings have enabled me to feel a great deal of empathy for horses, whose sensory responses are always more finally tuned than ours and to understand that no, human touch may be really unpleasant for them and being confined in a small space with no chance of escape may be very stressful and that loud noises and shouting are abhorrent to them. I am a great believer in systematic-desensitization but could never understand why it wouldn’t work with me – exposure to dripping taps and ticking clocks just drove me further and further up the wall. One psychologist once threatened to lock me in a room at the local mental hospital while all the patients were eating – I didn’t go back. Horses are fantastic at adapting and learning that things, even things that have attacked them before, are safe. It’s so important to do it step by step and bit by bit if we are not to stimulate the alternative response of mentally leaving the room and shutting down and there are ponies like Piper, who can’t ever switch off their sensory responses and I have got to respect that. I think it also helps me to be in the moment with a horse – I always notice if they invade my space or if their body language changes.
I’d love to hear from anyone else with similar leanings and I unreservedly recommend Heller’s book. Having said that, I am only half way through and hardly daring to believe that there may be some solutions to the problem even if there isn’t a total cure. I have always thought that this might be as good as it gets.
