Me, My Sensory, and My Synesthesia

How Do Others Not See It????

I used to think everyone saw the colors.

Then, when I was ten, I encountered something that gave me pause. My sister and I discovered The Name of this Book is Secret by Pseudonymous Bosch. (If anyone can work out that pronunciation, I'd be very grateful if you shared it.) In this book, synesthesia gets mentioned, and I started to notice that I actually could relate to some of it. For example, there are paintings in the school that look like they're abstract, but they had titles like "The Sound that Rain Makes" or something like that. (It's been a little while since I've read the books.) I understood it. It barely even registered to me until on of the MCs was all like, "That's so stupid. What does that even mean?" It hit me then that it was supposed to be an alien concept; you weren't supposed to understand it. But I did.

But I shrugged it off. It's a book, I thought. The author probably just made something up to fit the plot. And I've always been weird. It's probably just my SPD making me feel like I experience some of this.

At this point, I'd known about my SPD for about two years or so, but didn't understand much of it yet. Back then, it was still mostly sudden reactions that I couldn't control at all. (Now I'm able to detect when I'm getting reactive so I can try to minimize my reactions or get out the situation making me reactive.) So it was just a thing of "I don't know how else to explain it", so I lumped the two of them together. I then forgot about it and moved on.

A few years later, I started really paying attention for the first time. I was noticing some things that I couldn't fully explain away with having SPD. Like the time I was in the car with my mom and the radio was on. God's Not Done With You by Tauren Wells was playing, and I heard something in the chorus that startled me. (I listen to my radio really softly, mainly because if it's too high, I get noise complaints from my sister in the next room over. So in the car, I tend to hear little details that get washed out on my radio.)

"Stars," I said, hearing the chimes.

"What?" my mom glanced at me in confusion.

I didn't know how to respond. I watched the little four-point stars dance across the field of black, going from the lower left corner up to the upper right. "I--uh--the chime sounds. They sound like stars to me." I could tell I wasn't making sense to her, so I just shut up and stared out the window the rest of the car trip.

I tried to just shrug and ignore it, but a few years ago I finally cracked. I couldn't take not knowing anymore. I did multiple Google searches and found all these descriptions about synesthesia. I started getting excited. I felt the pieces falling into place. And then I finally found a site that had all these quiz/test things where you matched colors and letters and stuff together. It's practically impossible for even those with really good memories, but aren't synesthetes, to beat it. The results I got from doing all that convinced me I had synesthesia.

I was so happy when I heard that. I consider synesthesia to be the most beautiful of medical conditions. It adds so much to my life and I wish that I could show others what I saw. I don't know how many times I've wished that I could speak in colors and scents and images instead of words. It would make explaining everything so much easier and I would never be at a loss for words again. I could show everyone what I mean by "stars".

I just can't fathom how there are some people who can't see or experience any of it. It makes me sad for them, knowing that they're missing out on it and they don't even know it. We each have different views of "normal", and neither can understand the other. Maybe we never will.