Sensory Processing Part 2: Sensory Seeking

For all of the sensory input we Autistics cannot tolerate, there are just as many welcome sensations that we actively seek.   Some Autistics cannot "get enough" of certain smell, tastes, textures, or sounds, and we hunger for the input that we receive from such things.    Sometimes we may ignore personal space, craving closeness.  Or we may lick things or place things in our mouth that are not food items, because we want to interpret those items through a different means than what is typical.   We chew on things, bite things, get close to things, touch things over and over, make noises, spin, crash into things, sniff things, and flash lights, all in an effort to satisfy our sensory processing system.  

Yesterday I went to an all-day charity event, which included a lively and comedic “celebrity” softball game and an outdoor concert put on by local musicians. Because of the multitude of variables and magnitude sensory input at such an event, I am always apprehensive of the possible meltdown manifesting.    

I swam through the crowd as people swarmed and bumped into me, changing directions last minute in front of me, walking too slowly or too closely to me (a philosophy I like to refer to as “the whole couch” theory).   The pleasant smells of sunscreen and hot dogs, woven with the ominous stench of ketchup, fill the spring air.   The beaming sun radiates upon my face, turning my skin pinkish.   Bees bumble and buzz around my head, searching for the sweetness of sodas and cotton candy.   The cool, refreshing grass of the field tickles my feet.  The commotion of the excited crowd encompasses me as fans cheer, applause, laugh, and chat.  

This myriad of sounds, sights, and smells would typically hurl me into sensory overload, culminating in flapping, rocking, “voicing”, biting my thumbs, and shutting down.  But today I was managing myself rather well.  Given the circumstances, I suppose one could say I was “with-it” or having an “on day”.   

Loud and unexpected noises rattle me.  Certain pitches and tones wrench my nerves.   But today the speakers were meticulous in their intonations.   The bass was so profound it was throbbing within my veins, pulsating within my spinal column.   I hungered for the acoustic and the fiddle, craved the steel guitar that was hitting my sensory sweet spot.  I lie down on a soft, familiar blanket and allowed the music to encompass me.  I positioned my ear on the ground and felt the vibrations through the dense earth below me.  As I lie on the ground, a friend applied slow and steady pressure to my back.  Deep pressure has a soothing effect on me.  Sometimes at home I will bury myself tightly in a blanket, securely sandwich myself under a mountainous pile of couch cushions, or have a friend hold me in a firm embrace.  As I enjoyed the music and the sun and the company of friends and family, I rocked back and forth to the melodies that filled the air, conceding to the rhythm, permitting it to take over me.  By some means this input helps to reconnect me with the world that circumferences me.  

There were occasions throughout the day when I had had enough.  Moments when I just wanted to tell my crew to pack up and let’s head home.   But I endured.  I took a walk, away from the crowd, into the shade, out to the car for a bottle of water and a grapple (that’s my favorite fruit by the way, an apple that tastes like a grape).  I did all I could to sustain and carry on, enjoying the day with the excitement of new friends, the comfort of old friends, and the craziness of my family.