As I’ve said before, I have an autism diagnosis. Probably Aspergers, although as the diagnostic differential is to do with language development, and we didn’t follow up on that, it can’t be a definite. So it actually says probably in my diagnosis letter, which amuses me somewhat.
I don’t think it shows particularly, unless you know me well. I’ve spent a lot of years perfecting techniques for passing as normal, and not actually understanding why pretending to cope for hours in public places leaves me in a catatonic heap later on. But there you go. I understand it now, and can actually choose when to cope, and when to walk away. It’s odd, getting to know yourself at 44. And I am still making mistakes, overestimating what I can handle, or more accurately, what the cost of handling it will be.
I was sent a link to this video from Ambitious about Autism – it’s an animation on sensory overload, which I found quite interesting.
As it says in the video, not everyone with aspergers or autism experiences sensory overload the same way. We are all different, imagine that 😉
I didn’t used to particularly suffer from visual sensory overload. Oddly, I’m finding it more difficult since I started photography, and then drawing. I think that somehow I’ve switched on a level of observation I just wasn’t using before. Now I can get sucked into a sky, lost in a flower, overwhelmed by a landscape. Eyes, oh my word, eyes. I will forget to hear what you’re saying, looking at your eyes. Not meeting your gaze as such, but looking at the colours, patterns, highlights – eyes are really beautiful. And while I’m looking at you, I’m trying to work out how to draw you. Hair, nose, eyebrows, where are the shadows lying, where would they be if you moved?
It’s hardly surprising that I find it hard to keep track of conversations. It’s much easier if I’m staring at my screen, as I know what’s on that, and I’m not going to sink into it and lose track.
In a way though, that’s the pleasant side of sensory overload. The other side is when there’s just too much stuff. Like when I went to Lidl the other day, and discovered that there’s a whole new and interesting over layer of signs all around the shop.
I’m sure they’re supposed to be informational. The actual effect was rather like being beaten with sticks as I went around the store. (You might ask how I could know that. I did martial arts 😉 ) It was massively tiring. I couldn’t see the edges of the shelves, couldn’t find the items I wanted, and really really didn’t want to read all the wavy labels, which also felt like they might fall on me. I liked Lidl for its simplicity when it opened. You’re not overwhelmed with choice. I know where everything is. And now it’s getting steadily worse – we’re already in the shop, do we really need to be assaulted with all this advertising there?
I shouldn’t really single Lidl out here – it’s just the shop I prefer to shop at. The local East of England Coop, for example, has at least 5 bright yellow signs on the plastic barrier at the side of each till. I find it almost physically painful, and couldn’t tell you what any of them say, as I avoid looking at them.
I’m going to guess that that’s not the standard reaction, either that or there’s a lot of mean people in retail design!
So there you go. Hopefully a small insight into the world of visual sensory overload that accompanies my particular take on autism. I’ll take questions in the comments boxes, or on twitter, should you have any.
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