(no subject)
Every once in a while--and I really wish it happened more frequently--I feel really, really glad to have a set of two working feet and legs. Really glad. I remember not too long ago a time when I would lay in bed in terrible pain and just wish for the moment that I could walk across the room for a glass of water, or sit on the toilet to take a pee without pain from shifting weight to sit down, or take a shower without a shower chair. I use this memory to remind me just how delighted I am that they are working right. And even more awesomely, they really haven't been hurting for months, unless I do something terribly strenuous. Mind you, I'm not about to put on a pair of stilettos and jump on a trampoline, but they're in pretty good shape for me. I wish I would remember more often to look at them, walk around, and be glad.
I figured out a couple years ago that I have Sensory Processing Disorder, aka Sensory Integration Dysfunction, aka Sensory Defensiveness, aka Tactile Defensiveness, etc. While technically it is a "Google Diagnosis," as people qualified to diagnose and treat it are few and far between, especially for adults, I have gone on to read several books about it and have no doubt in my mind. Without going into excessive detail, basically, in people with SPD, small sensations, whether tactile, auditory, visual, vestibular, or olfactory, are processed wrongly by the nervous system, and where most people would be able to ignore them, in the Sensory Defensive they excite the fight-or-flight response, resulting in agitation, irritation, annoyance, and sometimes physical pain or emotional crisis. In brief. Anyhow, in the most serious cases, generally this is found in people with Autism and is considered an Autism Spectrum Disorder. For me, it's not the most serious case, but I encounter more and more things that have been a part of me for my whole life that turn on a lightbulb in my head: "Ding! That's not normal!"
One particular way to describe how it feels, to me, is that I am crawling out of my skin. I'm terribly uncomfortable in my body, a lot of the time. This is part of the reason I wash my hands all the time--I can feel crazy sensations in my fingertips and thumb muscle. More often than not, I have a HUGE personal space area, and even flinch when accidentally touched. It feels, sometimes, like I am disconnected from my body; like I am surrounded by a big, fat, uncomfortable suit that is not me.
I cannot remember exactly why I decided to write about this, but somehow lately I have been so weary of being so distant from people, physically. It wears me out. I have been walking the line between crazy and sane--no doubt exacerbated by my job and other stressors, but also because I am walking around being hypervigilant and scared of my surroundings. And I think this is part of why I am so squicked out by what people consider normal as far as physical intimacy. Sometimes I think my life would be totally different if I could just deal with personal space, with little sounds, with various things touching me. I went out to lunch with my boss and coworkers the other day, and was freaking out the whole time for only the reason that my boss was just TOO close to me. She didn't do anything wrong, but I couldn't help but to be freaking out and couldn't even relate to my boss and colleagues normally. I am thinking of seeing this woman out of Indianapolis who deals with this shit--trouble is, she apparently doesn't take any insurance. Still, it's under consideration.
But, I think the whole point of this was--one part that I am most comfortable with, especially now, is my feet. Don't get me wrong, they have the same issues: I CANNOT wear socks with a normal toe seam, ever since I was a tiny kid, because they drive me absolutely fucking insane, as well as shoes with any kind of arch, shoes that rub anywhere, socks in general, etc. But, my feet are sometimes the only part of me that actually feels connected, like they're really a part of me. I could play with them all day, stretch them, cut my toe nails, walk around, jump around. Feet that can walk! Feet that can even run, jump, bicycle and dance! I love them.
Also, I'm signing up for the Stone Belt softball league, apparently. Haha. I told them... I cannot promise to be any good, but I can give it the old college try! Between dance class and this, and the occasional riding of the bike (I did yesterday!) I'm going to be the trimmest young lady north of the Mason Dixon, if only I can give up the Rice Krispie Treats...
I figured out a couple years ago that I have Sensory Processing Disorder, aka Sensory Integration Dysfunction, aka Sensory Defensiveness, aka Tactile Defensiveness, etc. While technically it is a "Google Diagnosis," as people qualified to diagnose and treat it are few and far between, especially for adults, I have gone on to read several books about it and have no doubt in my mind. Without going into excessive detail, basically, in people with SPD, small sensations, whether tactile, auditory, visual, vestibular, or olfactory, are processed wrongly by the nervous system, and where most people would be able to ignore them, in the Sensory Defensive they excite the fight-or-flight response, resulting in agitation, irritation, annoyance, and sometimes physical pain or emotional crisis. In brief. Anyhow, in the most serious cases, generally this is found in people with Autism and is considered an Autism Spectrum Disorder. For me, it's not the most serious case, but I encounter more and more things that have been a part of me for my whole life that turn on a lightbulb in my head: "Ding! That's not normal!"
One particular way to describe how it feels, to me, is that I am crawling out of my skin. I'm terribly uncomfortable in my body, a lot of the time. This is part of the reason I wash my hands all the time--I can feel crazy sensations in my fingertips and thumb muscle. More often than not, I have a HUGE personal space area, and even flinch when accidentally touched. It feels, sometimes, like I am disconnected from my body; like I am surrounded by a big, fat, uncomfortable suit that is not me.
I cannot remember exactly why I decided to write about this, but somehow lately I have been so weary of being so distant from people, physically. It wears me out. I have been walking the line between crazy and sane--no doubt exacerbated by my job and other stressors, but also because I am walking around being hypervigilant and scared of my surroundings. And I think this is part of why I am so squicked out by what people consider normal as far as physical intimacy. Sometimes I think my life would be totally different if I could just deal with personal space, with little sounds, with various things touching me. I went out to lunch with my boss and coworkers the other day, and was freaking out the whole time for only the reason that my boss was just TOO close to me. She didn't do anything wrong, but I couldn't help but to be freaking out and couldn't even relate to my boss and colleagues normally. I am thinking of seeing this woman out of Indianapolis who deals with this shit--trouble is, she apparently doesn't take any insurance. Still, it's under consideration.
But, I think the whole point of this was--one part that I am most comfortable with, especially now, is my feet. Don't get me wrong, they have the same issues: I CANNOT wear socks with a normal toe seam, ever since I was a tiny kid, because they drive me absolutely fucking insane, as well as shoes with any kind of arch, shoes that rub anywhere, socks in general, etc. But, my feet are sometimes the only part of me that actually feels connected, like they're really a part of me. I could play with them all day, stretch them, cut my toe nails, walk around, jump around. Feet that can walk! Feet that can even run, jump, bicycle and dance! I love them.
Also, I'm signing up for the Stone Belt softball league, apparently. Haha. I told them... I cannot promise to be any good, but I can give it the old college try! Between dance class and this, and the occasional riding of the bike (I did yesterday!) I'm going to be the trimmest young lady north of the Mason Dixon, if only I can give up the Rice Krispie Treats...