Me, My Sensory, and My Synesthesia

My Anxiety and My "Shutdowns"

Howdy.

So, let's talk about when we first figured out I had anxiety.

It was about five or six years after we found out about my SPD. It was never officially diagnosed, but it became more and more clear that I had it. At first, I believed that it just came from my SPD, like my parents also thought. But then I started seeing stuff on Pinterest about social anxiety and I saw that a lot of those descriptions were very good fits for myself. So I got curious and looked up what exactly social anxiety is. Life began to make so much more sense.

I find it nearly impossible to order in a restaurant. Guess what? That's part of social anxiety.

I can't talk to people I don't know. I can barely talk to people I do know, and don't expect me to start the conversation because I'm fighting back a wave of nausea at the mere thought of it. I've never dated anyone before so I don't know how that would go, but I bet I'd be sweating up a storm and completely mute the entire time.

Hate speaking in public. Worst feeling ever. It makes me feel like I should be dead. I can't even go up to the front of the room to grab a paper unless I watch someone else do it first, and then I'm forcing myself to breath as I walk up there feeling like the whole world is watching and when I finally get back to my desk, I'm too worn out to even be relieved.

Eye contact? What's that? The last time I truly made eye contact with someone, I was like seven.

I hate using the bathroom when other people are around and public restrooms are not fun for me. They stress me out big time. And it's doubly fun in restaurants because I'm also uncomfortable eating in front of someone, especially because I'm often the slowest so everyone's just waiting for me to be done and giving me more stress!

I don't like social events like parties. A. too loud. B. too many people. C. way too much mental stress and exhaustion. I try to stay away from them unless I have my slightly more extroverted sister who can come along. Even then, I still end up in a corner, miserable. And I've only ever gone to our youth group's Christmas parties!

Is it normal to feel like you're going to pass out entering a room filled with people? Is it normal to keep your head down and let your hair help hide you? I hate entering classrooms. Going into a school building is pretty hard for me. From the time I leave the car to the time I sit in the back row, preferably against the wall, my breathing is forced. (I'm the same way with movie theater entrances, but I think that's just because I saw too many posters and previews for freaky movies when I was little. I also have to cross my legs on my seat because at one point when I was maybe ten, I made this weird association that if my feet were on the floor, there would be a fire and I wouldn't be able to get out. So, feet off the floor = no fire.)

When I was younger, I would always go into "shutdown mode" as my mom called it whenever I got reactive. I couldn't move, I couldn't talk, I couldn't think.

I think that this is actually what led to me being homeschooled. It was December, in the middle of fifth grade. I don't remember why, but there were only a few other students in the class, like we were doing make-up work or something. The teacher asked me something (don't remember what) and I got frustrated (don't remember why). So I put my head on my desk (which I always found a comforting position, and often would do my work in the position). I don't remember how it escalated, but the teacher ended up grabbing my chair and dragging me out into the hall. Why I didn't just stand up I don't know. I guess I just didn't think of it. After we were in the hall, I ran to hide under the coats to try to calm down because by now I was furious. Well, she gave me to the count of either three or five to come out (my diaries conflict; the earliest record I have says three). I wanted to scream at her that if she just gave me a minute on my own I'd be fine, but I couldn't talk. I wanted to, but it was like my vocal cords had forgotten how to operate. So I stayed where I was, trying to calm down with each new word she spoke sending fresh waves of anger through me. She went and got another one of the fifth grade teachers and together they dragged me down to the principal's office. I remember I was kicking, both hoping to get out of they're grasp and to get my feet under me, but when I finally did stand, I had to let myself fall again because they were walking to fast for me walking backwards to keep up with. I also know that my shoes fell off because of the dragging. I also know that I didn't even realize until my right heel slammed down full force onto the hard tile floor. It hurt so bad the whole rest of the day. (And I think I must've chipped it because afterwards, I couldn't jump out of swings without the pain flaring up, making me unable to stand up after landing for a few moments) I didn't struggle the rest of the time to the office. Once we got there, I ran into the bathroom and locked myself in. I was trying to calm down and I only unlocked it when I heard that my mom was there and I heard her voice. After that, my parents took me home. The next day I woke up for school as usual and mom told me to go back to bed. I was technically out of school for two or three days before my parents finalized the decision to homeschool me.

For a while, I didn't realize that the whole "I can't talk" thing had a name. A few years ago I learned it was called selective mutism. I hate that name. I so prefer "non-verbal". Saying "selective mutism" makes it sound like you chose to go mute and that you have control over it. I can't speak for others, but I sure as anything can't! I don't even always know that I've gone non-verbal until someone tries to talk to me. And I can't just snap out of it either; I just have to ride it out and hope my speech comes back soon because it's just about impossible to communicate with my family when I can't speak. (I wish they'd at least attempt to learn some basic ASL and that my sister and brother wouldn't decide to just close their eyes and turn away when they decide they're done with my ASL.) I can still make some noises, like sighs and squeaks, but I can't get out any words. It becomes just about impossible and if I try, I start to smile, which I think makes my family take it less seriously than I'd like, because it's incredibly frustrating. I can also write things down, but that takes a long time and they get annoyed, especially my siblings, if it goes on for a while where I keep pausing to type or scribble something out.

My mom even called it my "not ready to talk mood" a few days ago. Uh, no? That's not even close? It's not a mood, and it had little to do with readiness.

I'm sorry. I told myself I wasn't going to rant about this. Oh well. 😂 Sorry for the rant, and enjoy your daily dose of radiation!