A Common Anomaly

I’ve recently come to understand some things about myself that really explain a lot of the difficulties I’ve had in my life. Public journals in general are pretty self-indulgent but going on about one’s own oddities seems especially narcissistic. As if to say, I’m different, I’m unusual. Which is silly and not necessarily true.

Anyway, I’m giving myself license to ramble on, in just one post, about something I’ve been struggling with my whole life.

I’ve always said that I’m a sensitive person and have often described my body as being hypersensitive. It seemed to me that all my senses were “hyperactive”.

Visually I’m very sensitive. I notice every little movement around me and a shadow flickering on the wall is enough to startle me sometimes. A few nights ago, without even looking for it, I spotted a brown spider crawling across my brown carpet. I can’t tell you how many times people have said “How the hell did you see that?” when I noticed something like that. I find clutter to be very distracting. I’m constantly scanning my environment and most of the time I’m hardly even aware of it.

For a long time I just assumed that I was more vigilant because I was making up for my partial deafness. I’m sure that’s partly true. As for hearing, the auditory stimuli I do receive can easily overwhelm me. Perceiving too many noises at once or hearing an unpleasant noise (which might not be unpleasant to others) is really disturbing for me. I’m sensitive to smells, even if they are faint. Many perfumes make me very ill. My sense of taste isn’t so intense but I am sensitive to the texture of foods.

I think the worst is how touch-sensitive I am. Tactile stimulation is the most difficult for me to handle. Skin to skin contact with people makes me extremely uncomfortable. When I’m in love with someone I find it more bearable, even desirable, but as soon as any relationship issues arise, or even if I’m just overstimulated in general, I retreat. If someone’s skin is touching mine I experience an unpleasant stinging sensation, so I try to maintain some distance from people to discourage touching (which I’m sure makes me seem unfriendly or stand-offish). I still give most people, even the ones I really care about, awkward one-armed hugs because I don’t know how to handle that kind of close contact. Don’t get me wrong, if a friend gives me a hug I really enjoy the affection that is being expressed, I just don’t know how to deal with the physical contact very well.

Anything touching me can make me edgy or even frantic. The band at the top of my underwear seems to eat into me, the seams in the toes of my socks bite into my toes, and clothes that shift around drive me bonkers. I’m constantly adjusting my bra straps or straightening my shirt or arranging my necklace. Rings are horrible. When I wear a ring I often feel pain in that finger, even if the ring fits well, because I’m so hyper-aware of it.

Any of these things alone isn’t a huge deal but when you put them all together I’m headed for sensory overload. Just imagine, I’m hanging out with you and some of our other friends and we’re having drinks. I may be sitting quietly, nodding along to the conversation, but there’s actually quite a bit going on. I’m probably uncomfortable in my chair, aware of the condensation from my glass wetting my fingers, the music in the background keeps demanding my attention, my bra feels tight, there’s something, a hair maybe, tickling my arm, the person next to me seems prone to sudden movements and I wonder when he’ll knock over the glass that’s next to him and if any of the liquid will splash onto me, there’s a red ant crawling on the wall behind you, I wonder what that smell is, my sock is sliding down and bunching slightly in my shoe, someone just said something to so-and-so and she’s displaying body language that is not consistent with her words, I wonder if you noticed it, I’d like to eat something, OH CRAP someone’s asking me a question, FOCUS, was that an acceptable response or did I seem nervous or stupid… And so on and so forth.

All of this is probably why I’m so comfortable living alone. And probably why I have this muscle condition. It’s no wonder that my body responds so dramatically to the tension in my muscles, causing me pain, tingling, and numbness. It’s just another one of my body’s overreactions. And OF COURSE I can’t sleep. How can I sleep with so much going on around me and inside me? The world can be a tremendously uncomfortable place.

It’s not always so bad. I’m mostly worried about how other people will perceive me. I worry about how I interact with people I care about. I don’t want to get irritable with my son because the TV is too loud and my head hurts and he has sticky fingers. I don’t want friends to interpret my behavior as unfriendly. So, I guess I just need to deal with this. Find ways to cope so that I can be the way I want to be and give off the impression I want to give.

I try to focus on the positive as much as possible. Being overly sensitive isn’t always a bad thing. When I eat good food I sigh and my eyes water and the pleasure is just incredible. When I listen to good music I often experience an intense emotional and bodily response. My body feels as if it’s electrically charged and when the music reaches any kind of climax I sometimes feel light as a feather and and my skin seems to catch on fire, but in a strangely pleasurable way. I get so happy over small things and being in nature, especially near water, can make me feel so peaceful and relaxed that my senses all seem to quiet down.

It seems pretentious to say I’m a Highly Sensitive Person since I’m sure most people experience this to some degree. I prefer to call it Sensory Defensiveness. In the end all of it means nothing to anyone except me but it feels good to have talked about it.

I’m averaging about 4 to 5 hours of sleep a night. I’m just really uncomfortable! Already! I think six hours is more ideal for me, but I guess this restlessness will help prepare me for the sleepless nights to come.

Today something odd happened. I walked into the bathroom and as I turned to face the mirror a bottle of body spray on the sink was rocking as if it had just nearly tipped over. I looked at Mina, who was curled up in the bath tub, and upon realizing she wasn’t responsible for the movement I tried my best to recreate the rocking motion of the bottle by bumping the sink, jumping up and down, and finally just poking it with my finger. No luck.

The bottle is nearly full, as you can see above, and not at all unstable so I was very perplexed. I wish it would happen again. Then maybe I could view it as an extraordinary occurrence but for now it’s just one of those odd things that happens in this terribly odd house. This house is fussy and old.

Tristan is driving me bonkers. He has suddenly decided that he doesn’t want to eat. I know, I know, toddlers go through these phases and it’s a normal control-driven issue that will resolve itself, but it kills me worrying that he might not be getting the nutrients he needs. It’s my food issues again. Every source I’ve scoured has assured me that he’ll eat when he’s hungry but I don’t necessarily agree. Tristan almost never expresses to me that he wants food. He’ll bring his cup to me quite often and ask for juice, but food? Not interested.

It reminds me of me. I adore good food, but if I’m just hanging out and doing my thing it’s not unusual for me to forget to eat altogether. Unless, like now, I’m pregnant and then all I’m thinking all day is “Did I eat enough? I need more! MORE! Baby needs nutrients!”

Anyway… Phase. It’ll pass. Eventually. I’ll just have bald patches from pulling out my hair. That’s cool. I can live with that.

And here’s why I wont be completely bald:

Pictures don’t do him justice. He’s so freakin’ beautiful it just blows me away. And it’s moments like that, when he’s peaceful and sleeping like an angel, or when his glowing smile is lighting up the whole room, that keep me strong when things get rough. Like tonight when I began to panic because I felt like the room was closing in on me and I just wanted to curl up somewhere alone. ALONE.

Oh Tristan. Deep breath, deep breath, it’s totally ok that I don’t want you crawling all over me right at this moment, it’s normal that I just want a few minutes to myself, it’s perfectly acceptable that I’m choking on a scream because I can’t have these things since it’s just you and me, kid! I have to keep reminding myself that my feelings are absolutely reasonable so that the guilt doesn’t set in. I refuse to wallow in guilt because, piss and shit, I do my best! Meh, I think lack of sleep is making me edgy. I need more goofy Tristan moments. And, hell, a night on the town without the most amazing little guy I know.

Eventually.

Always eventually.

Recently someone asked me if I ever get scared living alone. The answer was a hearty “Hell yes!”

He then asked me if I ever call anyone when I get scared and I gave him a puzzled “No”. It’s never occurred to me that someone else could help me handle my fears better than I can handle them by myself. I’ve always been the type to snatch up a blunt object (hammers are great) and go investigate when I hear a suspicious noise. But to be honest, most of the noises I hear in the night lately aren’t so much suspicious as weird.

You know those creepy things you see out of the corner of your eye? I see them all the time. The rational explanation is that my vision isn’t perfect and my active imagination embellishes these visual glitches. Then there’s the things I’ve seen plain and clear. Like in high school when me and a friend spotted orbs of light floating around in the woods near us. Explanation: swamp gas. What about the things that get changed around in my house? Like a week ago when I walked into my room to find the shades pulled up even though I never raise them and the string to pull them up is tied up out of Tristan’s reach. Explanation: Well, I’m still working on that one, as well as several other odd little occurrences.

I can’t say that I truly believe in ghosts, and yet I find myself  claiming that Arkansas is the most haunted place I’ve ever lived in. These old houses have history. The house I lived in during my high school years here was a big two story building that used to be a church. I’ve got a funny “ghost” story from that place:

One day I found myself alone in that old house and when I walked out of my room and stared down the hallway I could have swore I saw a dark shape walk into the nook where the bathroom was. I remember the hair standing up on my arms as I walked to the bathroom and opened the door. The light was inexplicably turned on but, of course, no one was there. Then a total rush of intense fear as I became absolutely certain someone was standing behind me, watching me. I whirled around to see, you got it, nothing. My skin felt electrically charged and I ran to the TV and huddled in front of it as if it would protect me, until I came to my senses and went back to my room to wait for someone else to get home.

Interesting, right? I felt certain that something or someone was there and yet I never actually saw anything. I only thought I saw something. My mind rationalizes both ways, though. Isn’t it possible that there are ghosts fleetingly appearing around me and all the physical sensations I experience are not just because of fear, but a bodily reaction to these things? I actually want to believe in ghosts but for that very reason I remain somewhat skeptical.

I want proof, because too many odd occurrences can be explained away.

Prophetic dreams, the “bad feeling” that later becomes terribly justified, these things are just strange coincidences. Until I have proof.

I’m waiting…