Sensory Triggers, the Spice of Life

Ah, sensory triggers, the spice of life for those of us blessed with a neurological profile that’s a bit more… shall we say, bespoke?Gather ’round, dear fellows, as we embark on a whimsical journey through the minefield that is the sensory world. You’re in for a treat, and possibly a meltdown or two – but don’t worry, we’ll navigate this together with all the grace of a bull in a china shop wearing noise-cancelling headphones.

Let’s start with environmental contexts, shall we? I’m sure this has already happened to you: you’re strolling through a shopping centre, minding your own business, when suddenly you’re assaulted by a cacophony of sounds, a kaleidoscope of lights, and the unmistakable aroma of overcooked pretzels. For some of you, this is paradise. For others, it’s the ninth circle of hell. Congratulations! You’ve just experienced a sensory trigger. Other delightful locations include crowded amphi (because nothing says ‘learning’ like 100 students talking, moving, coughing simultaneously), mealtimes (ah, the joy of trying to eat when everything feels like sandpaper in your mouth), and the ever-popular transition times. Because who doesn’t love the chaos of arriving at Uni or work, where you’re expected to seamlessly shift from ‘home mode’ to ‘uni/work mode’ while your brain is still trying to process why socks even exist? Now, let’s chat about the functional impact of these sensory differences. You might find yourself avoiding group activities because Betsy from accounting doesn’t understand that her voice could shatter glass. Or perhaps you struggle with writing because holding a pencil feels like gripping a live eel. And let’s not forget the classic ‘missing instructions’ scenario because your interoceptive awareness decided to vanish without warning. It’s not that you’re not listening; it’s just that your body forgot to inform your brain that it exists. It happens to the best of us, really (talking from experience here).

But fear not, dear sensory adventurers! For every problem, there’s a solution – or at least, a coping mechanism that makes you look slightly less unhinged in public. Welcome to the world of regulation strategies! Chewing gum like a cow with a lockjaw? That’s not a bad habit; that’s oral-seeking behaviour. Just know, you’re sophisticated! Wrapping yourself in a weighted blanket like a sensory burrito? That’s proprioceptive input, darling. And that fidget toy you’re clicking incessantly? It’s not annoying at all (lie detected), it’s tactile regulation. And when all else fails, there’s always the classic ‘never mind’ – leaving the room without explanation. It’s not rude; it’s self-advocacy. I’m on your side, remember?

Now, let’s address the elephant in the room – or rather, the neurotypical in the room who’s busy misinterpreting your every move. You avoid eye contact, and suddenly, you’re ‘rude‘. Because apparently, the ability to stare into someone’s soul is the height of politeness. You struggle with handwriting, and you’re labelled ‘lazy‘. Yes, because everyone knows fine motor skills are directly linked to motivation levels. And heaven forbid you have a meltdown due to sensory overload – you’re clearly ‘overreacting‘ because it’s perfectly reasonable to expect someone to remain calm while their nervous system is staging a full-scale rebellion. But wait, there’s more! What about the delightful co-occurring behaviours that often accompany our sensory adventures? Rocking or flapping? You’re not weird, you’re just your own personal theme park ride. Food refusal? You’re not picky, you’re a ‘discerning palate‘. And seeking out dark, enclosed spaces? You’re not hiding, you’re ‘optimising your sensory environment’. It’s all about perspective, don’t you think?

And finally, we come to the pièce de résistance – communicating our sensory needs. This can range from the direct approach of shouting “This is too loud!” (subtlety is overrated), to the more nuanced technique of covering your ears and glaring at everyone in the vicinity. For the tech-savvy among us, there’s always the option of using AAC or PECS to request sensory tools. Nothing says ‘I’m overwhelmed’ quite like frantically pointing to a picture of noise-cancelling headphones while your eye twitches uncontrollably. So there you have it, fellow neurodivergent – a comprehensive guide to navigating the sensory minefield. Remember, it’s never about fitting in!