When my son was born, I was curious how he’d be different than his four older sisters. I’d grown up with two brothers who had very different interests than me, so I expected my son to similarly forge his own path. And while he met my expectations of being more active than my girls and loving all things construction, I began to see that these differences were not gender-related. In his Kindergarten year, his struggles with group learning and social settings started us on the path to his ADHD diagnosis. Along the way, learning about his sensory needs helped me acknowledge my own sensory needs.
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What are sensory needs or quirks?
We all know about our five senses, but often we fail to realize just how much our senses affect us. Many of us have gotten used to tuning out certain senses—for example, we work in noisy environments so we’ve learned to ignore certain sounds. While we may find some sensory input a bit distracting or annoying, it doesn’t usually affect our day-to-day functioning. Some people, however, are much more aware of the sensory input around them.
Harkla explains, “Sensory quirks are the smaller, less significant sensory things you seek out or avoid throughout the day. For example: chewing gum to stay focused, or fidgeting with your pen while listening to a lecture, or disliking loud noises. The difference between a sensory quirk and sensory processing disorder is that a sensory quirk does not negatively impact daily function.”
Seeing My Son’s Sensory Needs
My girls all hated splashing water. If we were at the pool or water parks, they’d avoid the fountains and spray parks. My son, on the other hand, loved the splashy water. At Cultus Lake Waterpark, his favourite feature was the splashing, spraying, cascading water at the pirate park. My girls never played there. As I watched my son repeatedly seek out spraying water in these situations, I realized it met some sensory need for him that didn’t exist for my girls and I.
In other areas, however, he wants less sensory input. He dislikes long-sleeve shirts and rarely wears them (with the exception of hoodies for going outside). He prefers shorts to pants, but wears pants all winter when I put away his shorts. While he tends to talk at a volume louder than I like, he also complains about certain noises, like my very loud Ninja blender. When I had a gas lawn mower, he’d wear my big yellow ear muffs and happily follow a step behind me as I mowed the entire lawn.
He loves playing with play dough and will spend hours mashing it into different forms, telling himself stories, and moving plastic figures around through it. I make him new play dough on a regular basis. He also likes kinetic sand and his sandbox.
As I began to identify and accept his sensory needs, I also began to see and accept my own sensory quirks. Growing up in an era when sensory awareness was not a thing, I’d simply learned to push down or ignore the little things that annoyed me. Looking back with a new knowledge of sensory processing, I saw how various sensory input has always affected me.
Seeing My Own Sensory Quirks
For example, I hate fuzzy sweaters. Through university, I had several. I’d spend a day wearing one to classes, uncomfortable and itchy, and then not wear it for a month and try again. Winters in Alberta were cold and many of my classmates looked cute in various sweaters, but I couldn’t get over the itchiness. I didn’t like wearing a layer under the sweater either. I’ve eventually donated all my sweaters and firmly told myself that no matter how cute they look, I will not buy them.
I don’t like socks. I wear them when I must, but all summer, I go barefoot in my sandals.
Noise bothers me. When I’m tired, I find all the kids’ chatter and random bursts of song to be extremely grating. There have been long years when I haven’t listened to music in the house because it just becomes more noise in an already busy home. Music in the car, on the other hand, seems to help keep everyone quieter and calmer. And when the kids are with their dad and my home is too quiet, I turn on some music while I work.
I cannot exercise indoors, whether at home or in a gym. I’ve tried both. I have several friends who’ve had huge success with Bodi and while I admire their dedication and results, I’ve never been able to stick with it myself. I just cannot. Cycling, however, is totally my jam. There’s something about the wind on my face, the changing scenery around me, and even the mental challenge of dodging roots, rocks and pedestrians as I ride that fills me with joy. Stationary bike? Never. 40-km ride on the dikes? Anytime.
Judith Sinclair had a similar experience of discovering her sensory quirks: “When you’re diagnosed with ADHD as an adult as I was, you have the benefit of looking back several decades, cataloging your challenges, and finally realizing that not everyone lives this way. I keep a running list of random things I thought everyone struggled with, but it turns out that isn’t the case.” Reading her sensory triggers was an ahah moment for me.
While I like hugs and don’t care how people chew, I’ve never been able to wear makeup. I’ve always thought it was in part because my mom never wore makeup so I never learned to apply makeup well, but as I read Sinclair’s experience, I realized I just hate the feeling of makeup on my face. Like fuzzy sweaters, I’d try makeup once in a while… and dislike it and then not put it on again for years. I’ve now either thrown out all my makeup or given it to my daughters (who don’t seem to be limited by either sensory quirks or their mother’s inability to apply it).
Sinclair’s comments about TV also rang true with me. While I do enjoy movies and scripted TV shows (like Downton Abbey and Once Upon a Time), I cannot stand reality TV. It bores me to tears. I’ve also realized (after wasting money on many, many online courses) that I absolutely hate watching YouTube videos and webinars. I’ve often signed up for an awesome webinar or an online course that I’m super interested in… only to find myself absolutely bored out of my mind five minutes in and thinking about scrubbing my floors or dusting my baseboards. I simply cannot sit at my computer and watch someone talk. (My hack around this—find the book or read the video transcript instead. I can read much faster than anyone can talk.)
Meeting My Sensory Needs
Acknowledging my sensory quirks has helped me to stop buying the wrong clothing and avoid signing up for webinars I’m not going to watch. Like Kesha in The Greatest Showman, I can say, “This is me” and simply let go to the things that are not me. Now that I know why these things annoy me (or simply don’t meet my needs), it’s easier to say no to them—and yes to the things that do meet my needs. It also makes it easier to see and meet my kids’ sensory needs, and to avoid fights over things that really don’t matter (like wearing socks and pants).
Sensory overload is something we all experience in life, especially when our lives are filled with overwhelming stimuli. Yet it’s essential to recognize that we’re all sensory beings who require satisfying our senses – some of us may need a bit more nurturing than others and that is perfectly okay! ~ Harkla
Paying attention to my body and how it reacts to external stimuli is also helping me deal with my trauma around my divorce. For example, I can now recognize when my nervous system is dysregulated and take steps to calm it by going for a bike ride (heavy work and movement) or curling up in a fuzzy blanket in a dark room (reduce stimulation). Previously, I would have ignore the cues my body was giving me and tried to push through the discomfort. Now that that I can pay attention to my body and its’ sensory needs, recovery is easier and more effective.
If you’re also exploring this topic, I recommend the following resources:
- The Autistic Brain: Thinking Across the Spectrum by Temple Grandin
- ADHD Is Awesome by Penn and Kim Holderness (absolutely hilarious and very helpful!)
- All Things Sensory podcast by Harkla
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