Inherited triggers, sound sensitivities, and coping mechanisms.
I'm a tangled ball of tension today with nowhere to let it come undone. My nervous system is fried. Without knowing how to spot that, I'd be moving through life like a rubber band wrapped around a watermelon.
My dad always had a thing about people chewing with their mouths open. Not only did he hate it, but he'd become so completely enraged by it that it actually didn't make sense. Fists would hit the table. Plates would clink, clank, and clatter. But the interesting thing is—if you watched closely, you could spot his effort to resist his impending boiling point.
He has this vein that would magically sprout from his forehead. That was the giveaway. His posture would stiffen and his face would turn red, like he was lifting something super heavy. All the while, that vein would throb incessantly.
As a kid, it was both a terrifying and helpful warning sign.
His dad's thing had been people who wore hats at the dinner table. That was a big no-no for us. I guess it was a manners thing, so while I disagree with the level of reaction it earned, I can understand grandpa's motivation. At first my siblings and I thought my dad's issue with open-mouthed chewing was about etiquette, too. But it never explained why he had a problem with my step-brother scraping his fork on his teeth, or the egregiousness of someone talking while he was trying to catch the funny sound coming from the car.
I didn't know why his triggers were triggers, I just knew that they were. For years, I chalked it up to him being an asshole.
But then, as an adult, I got a dog.
Ava's a four-year-old rescue who loves frisbee more than treats, and leaning against your leg more than ear scratches. A few months after getting Ava, she got giardia, so we spent a couple of very long weeks going outside in the middle of the night. Like most dogs do when distressed, she would pant like crazy and anxiously lick her lips when she had to go out. My reaction to this was a crashing wave of rage I couldn't explain—some primal, nervous-system-level response. I was horrified, but I simply could not stand hearing the sound of her licking and panting like that... like fingernails on a chalkboard.
When I talked to my therapist about it, she asked if I'd ever heard of misophonia. I hadn't, so she went on to tell me it's a sound sensitivity and auditory processing disorder known to impact some neurodivergent folks. Shortly thereafter, she gently informed me that I met the criteria.
Holy shit.
Today, Ava's been throwing up a lot. Right now we're waiting for a phone call from the vet. In the meantime, she's panting a lot and nervously smacking her lips. So, after a few breathing exercises I grabbed my earplugs, my noise-canceling headphones, and sat down at my typewriter (which is now fully functional).
I love feeling the keystrokes and hearing the carriage return. It pulls me out of my head and into the world of what I'm writing. It made me wonder if my dad's ever found better ways of coping. It made me wonder about the generations before us who never knew.
Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
69/365
How do you keep yourself in check? What have you learned to do differently?
onward.
Help BUDS grow by sending this to someone.