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21 Ways to Describe Sensory Overload


1. You’ve heard of nails on a chalkboard, now get ready for… human voices!!!



2. There’s a fire drill and a tornado drill and an active shooter drill at the same time. Please simultaneously exit the building, take cover in the hallway, and hide under the teacher’s desk in your classroom. In a calm, orderly fashion, of course. Also there’s an actual earthquake going on, so have fun with that.



3. Trying to do a calculus problem on the board in front of your entire math class with this playing in your left earbud and this playing in the right earbud.


(I’m sorry)


(I mean it. I really am sorry. I listened to both of those at once to confirm it was an accurate metaphor, and gave myself an actual sensory overload. Because I’m a dumbass.)



4. Watching a horror movie in 3D, in an Omnimax theater.



5. I heard somebody unstick a piece of velcro one time, like, two weeks ago, and that horrible ripping sound is now playing on a loop in my head while I’m taking a test. I’m crying. This is not going well.



6. Somebody thought they were going to lovingly wrap me up in a warm blanket, but they didn’t realize the blanket is made of slimy sandpaper and it’s also now crawling with bugs. But it would be rude, wouldn’t it, to tell the person “hey, I don’t like your blanket, get this thing the hell away from me, please,” because they were trying to do me a favor…



7. I am hearing fifteen conversations at once, and I can’t tell which one is coming from the person actually trying to talk to me.



8. Well-meaning adult: *smiles, touches my arm, and gives me a compliment*

Me, internally: AAAAAAAAUUGHHHHHHH



9. I could take a shower, change my clothes, and climb up onto the roof of my house, far away from them. But I would still feel where they tried to grab my hand, touch my hair, pull me in for a hug.



10. “That’s when it goes like this!” I demonstrate, slapping my palm onto my bare arm.


I turn to my arm and frown at it. I forgot I wasn’t wearing a jacket.

“Ow.”


“Did that actually hurt you?” my friend asks.


Like rubbing an onion skin on myself, except it’s uncomfortably warm, like it just came out of the microwave, and it’s also super prickly, for some reason, I think. Then: woah, where did that come from?

“Yeah… that did sort of hurt.”



11. This would be a great time to throw up. Dramatic, gross, and over with quickly. Unfortunately, nausea isn’t actually a typical side effect for me in these situations, so I guess I’ll just… sit here. And hurt. And hurt. And let it keep hurting.



12. FUCKING HELL.



13. Excuse me. FUCKING HECK.



14. I need to run away, but I’m also frozen in place. I need to tell somebody what’s going on, but that would require talking, which would require hearing my own voice reverberating in my head. A roaring crowd in a damn baseball stadium. I need deep pressure to calm me down, it’s the only thing that’ll make me feel better, but I can’t have anyone hug me tight, and I can’t hug myself, and wedging myself under the sink looks appealing but then I’d be trapped and icannotbetrapped. And I need to cover my ears, but I can’t touch them with my bare hands, and I can’t put on earmuffs because they pinch my head and make it hurt, and my hands are flapping and shaking too bad to insert the earplugs safely.


Guess I’m screwed, then.



15. I’m standing on a tightrope between skyscrapers, howling wind tearing at my face, terrified of the drop below. Clinging to the wire below me with my feet, desperately spreading my arms wide for balance, drawing a shaky breath.


I’ve already fallen.


I’m still on the tightrope above. Don’t look down…


I’m already plummeting.


Just one wobble away from slipping…



16. I swear, I know who you are. I know your voice and I know your face and, for some reason, I know that you left me on read one time in tenth grade but you still showed up to our debate class the next morning with all your research done, so it was all fine and I was happy to see you.


But I don’t know the answer to your question.


I don’t know what your question was.


I’m not even 100% sure you were asking me a question.


I couldn’t tell you what your name is.



17. You know what’s great? Fall Out Boy songs blasting at full volume when it’s my choice to play them. You know what’s not great? That clock ticking. I’m gonna pull my own teeth out.



18. Your teacher started playing a video in class. They accidentally had the volume turned up way too loud– you’ve been slapped in the face, punched in the stomach. Your classmates also didn’t like it, and now they’re shouting at the teacher and talking about it amongst themselves while the video keeps playing— that’s the quicksand you’re drowning in.



19. You’re both extremely annoyed with the toddler having a meltdown in public and incredibly sympathetic because you feel like throwing a tantrum too, now.



20. I’d love to chat, but the neighbor is mowing his lawn across the street, and the washing machine and dryer are both running, and I’m wearing a bracelet. So… I need to go aggressively, uncontrollably flap my hands for twenty minutes or so. Catch ya later.



21. Okay. it’s loud in here, but I’ve handled worse. I can get through this. I’m better than this stupid sensitivity. I can walk through an IKEA.


Er… that’s a lot of people. WHO CARES. SUCK IT UP. I’m sucking it up. I’m a pro. I’m a champ. This is fine.


Why the hell are so many people trying to shop for swivel chairs today? Where’s my mom?


Okay, I am now wondering how normal people feel about IKEA. Even without a sensory processing disorder, this place is a maze.


I WOULD KILL FOR A WINDOW. I just want to see outside. Then I could take a deep breath. I’m not grounded, and this disorientation is making it really hard to regulate my sensory system. I can hear everybody, and feel every person who gets a little too close to popping my bubble.


My issues are auditory and tactile. My issues are auditory and tactile. Just auditory and tactile. Not visual.


Um. Now we’re in the section with rugs and carpets, and the patterns are hurting my eyes.


I do NOT have visual sensory processing issues… NOPE. I DON’T.


[we turn the corner and enter the lamps section]


… Are you fucking kidding me.


Bright lights! Shiny things that reflect the bright lights! COLORFUL lights! Large bright lights! Small bright lights! DIM, SHADED LIGHTS. Lights that are high up! Lights that are down low! Lights that look like flowers! Lights that look like boxes!


It would appear I do, in fact, have visual sensory processing issues, to a degree.






[Obviously, this is all just based on my own experiences, and everybody's different. If anything I said was harmful in any way, please let me know so I can fix it or take it down.]
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