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| Fear, from the movie "Inside Out." Image source. |
I blog about a lot of stuff related to my personal life. The thing that's hardest to write about, though, is being autistic. Sometimes I want to write, and sometimes I feel like I shouldn't, because... for me the main issue is sensory stuff, and if I write about that, aren't I just telling everyone that I'm a wimp?
So... yeah this post is about how, because of my sensory pain issues, because of my autism, which was undiagnosed until I was in my 20's, I've always had this worry that people are going to think I'm a wimp.
There are 2 sides to this:
First, there are the times when some sensory thing truly is overwhelming and painful for me, and people laugh at me. Feeling like I can't tell people that I'm having a problem, because then they'll think I'm a wimp. Feeling like I can't just communicate about what my needs are; I have to hide it and pretend everything's fine, otherwise people will think I'm a wimp.
I always felt like... I wasn't allowed to have this problem. It's "childish", and I should be "mature" and "get over it." Thinking about it now, I'm like, "Being a mature adult means if you have a need/ disability/ food allergy/ other kind of restriction, you communicate about it and work together with other people to come up with a way that you can still participate. Or, if it doesn't work out, you politely tell them you're not able to participate, and you leave." But back then, before I figured out I'm autistic, I thought... "Being a mature adult means you 'get over it' and be a normal person." And so I tried to hide my problems and be a "normal person" as long as I could, all jumpy and nervous and on the edge of panic, until I "suddenly freak out." Can't tell anyone I'm having a problem until I'm absolutely forced to. I can't tell them, because they'll think I'm a wimp.
I remember one time, when I was in my 20's, and someone told me that if someone invites me somewhere and I have sensory problems there, they would want to know about it because they don't want it to be a bad experience for me. They would want to help me. And I was so shocked; that had never occurred to me before. I thought if someone invited me somewhere that had a bad sensory environment, that meant they wanted me to "be normal" and exist in that bad sensory environment, and they would judge me if I "freaked out" about it. And I shouldn't bother them by telling them about my problems; I should just hide it.
Second, there are times when there's not a painful sensory event going on, but people are concerned for me because they think something might be overwhelming for me. For example, someone says "maybe you want to leave the room, because I'm about to hammer something and it might be loud" and then it turns out to not be that loud, and I feel like... "you think I'm that much of a wimp, that I couldn't even handle that sound, which wasn't loud at all?" Feeling really offended, like people think I'm a wimp and that's why they want to help me avoid things that only a wimp would be scared of.
And, yeah in that situation, my reaction isn't right, because people are trying to help me. But it's because I have this fear that people will think I'm a wimp. This internalized belief that, if someone is "scared" of something which is not "actually" scary, that means they're a wimp and everyone is right to mock them. Wanting to avoid being judged by other people, and at the same time, judging hypothetical others who were more wimpy than me.
One example of this was when I was in middle school and I was going to a therapist, and for some reason I mentioned to her that I was kind of bothered by elevators. (I don't know why I told her this; it wasn't related to the reason I was going to therapy.) Like, the little moment of acceleration in an elevator kind of weirded me out and I didn't like it. But it wasn't really that big of a deal- I kind of didn't like it, but it wasn't bad enough that I would avoid using an elevator because of it.
But she treated it like it was more of a big deal than it was. I seem to remember she brought it up a few times, when talking about what I can do in a situation where I'm uncomfortable, or something like that, and it just made me feel like... "you think I'm that much of a wimp, that I can't even ride in an elevator?"
The whole thing depends on the idea that it would be bad to be unable to tolerate something that most people see as "not a big deal." It would be bad, you should be embarrassed, people will mock you. And I certainly felt that embarrassment, when I was in a situation with sensory pain, and everyone else was acting like everything was fine... feeling embarrassed at being a "wimp", while at the same time so confused at how everyone else could be okay with whatever bad sensory stimulation was going on. Is there something wrong with me, for having a reaction to this, or is there something wrong with everyone else, for not having a reaction to something which is obviously overwhelming and painful?
But now I've found out, actually there's nothing wrong with being unable to tolerate certain stimuli. What I mean is, it doesn't mean 'you're a wimp and you should be embarrassed and other people should judge you.' It's just reality, that some people are built like that. Doesn't mean there's anything wrong with us.
I was so offended at being likened to a hypothetical person who couldn't ride an elevator- but there's no need to be offended at that, because it doesn't mean there's something wrong with them. If a person exists who hates the feeling of vertical acceleration so much that they always avoid elevators, that's fine. It's fine, in the sense that it doesn't mean they're weak or something's wrong with them. It could be a problem for them for very practical reasons, depending on whether or not the area where they live has a lot of tall buildings. If this is inconveniencing them a lot, they might make a personal choice to work on it and get themselves to a point where it doesn't bother them that much, and they can take an elevator sometimes. That's their decision, not something they're obligated to do in order to avoid mockery for being a wimp.
(By the way, I now live in one of the biggest cities in the world, there are lots of tall buildings, I take elevators every day and it doesn't bother me at all any more.)
And what I eventually realized, when I found out I'm autistic, is... It doesn't mean you're a wimp. It's really the opposite- you have had to endure things that most people don't have to. You are not "overreacting" to sensory stimuli- for you, they truly are that painful. You've been subjected to sensory pain, over and over and over, that's much worse than what the average person experiences.
I remember when I realized that most people basically never find themselves in a situation where they know there could be horrible pain at any moment, and they're all jumpy and nervous, and everyone around them acts like everything is fine. I was so shocked, because that was my whole life when I was a child. Very very frequently found myself in situations like that. I very much did not believe... that I should feel safe.
For example, let's say you're in high school chemistry class, and the teacher says something about doing an experiment with explosions. But you don't know if he means he's actually going to do it, here in this class today, or he's just talking about it but not really doing it. You look at the clock, 33 minutes left in this class. 33 minutes is plenty of time to do such an experiment. You watch the clock- just have to make it to the end of the class period and you'll be safe. You watch the teacher, scrutinizing every little thing he says or does, to find evidence for whether or not he'll be showing an experiment in class today. You can't pay attention to anything else, just how nervous you are, how much time is left in the class. 15 minutes now. Maybe you'll be safe, maybe 15 minutes isn't long enough for the experiment, so if he really was going to do it, he would have started by now. Let's try to calculate how much time... at what point will you know you're safe because there's not enough time left in the class? 5 minutes, maybe? 10 minutes? (Maybe you can make up an excuse to leave early?)
Or, if it really does happen. If he really does do the chemistry experiment with explosions. You know it's coming but you don't know when. You wonder how many explosions there will be. You look at the amount of material the teacher has available, and try to calculate how bad it's going to be. You're just stuck there, waiting, waiting for this huge awful explosion.
That kind of thing happened to me a lot. I would be aware of the possibility of some bad sensory thing happening, and I would be forced to stay in that environment, and I would be so nervous, and I would just constantly think about how soon I'll be allowed to leave. Me, super super aware of whatever the sensory thing was, nervous, unable to focus on anything else, and everyone else acting like everything's fine. That was my normal life, when I was a child.
The amazing thing about being an adult is, you can just leave. Now that I'm an adult, I'm never in situations like that, because if I see that there's something that might cause me sensory pain, I just leave. (I mean, it's more complicated than that, because I have trauma about this, and I've internalized the idea that everyone is judging me and thinks I'm a wimp... but anyway, I just leave.)
In summary: People laugh at me for experiencing sensory pain. Made me feel like I'm a wimp, and I didn't want to be, so I always felt that I needed to hide it, and I can't just communicate about the support I need. At the same time, I would sometimes get angry at people who were trying to help me, because I felt like they were saying I needed help because I was such a wimp. As an adult, I've realized that if someone can't handle a certain sensory stimulus, and they "freak out" about it, that doesn't mean there's something wrong with them and they should be mocked- it's simply a facet of reality and doesn't mean anything bad. The only bad thing is if it causes practical problems for them- and it's their own choice what they want to do about that. And furthermore, people with sensory issues aren't wimps; we've had to endure much more extreme pain that most people do.
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