How to Humiliate Yourself in Front of Attractive People in Public Spaces

Some days, you may ask yourself the following: can I somehow make this day worse on purpose?

The answer is yes, and I’m about to show you how you can create regrettable moments by using my own true story from my late adolescence as an example.

If you follow this blog, it’s no secret that I’ve had my share of bowel problems. I don’t know why I used to be ashamed of them. Everyone has bowels. Everyone eats. Everyone poops. I might imagine one could be embarrassed about pooping if you were the only person in the entire world who did it. That would make for awkward dinner conversation.


Luckily, the tale I’m about to share happened quite a while ago, so I am a different person now and can safely recount this unfortunate adventure with confidence knowing that I no longer give a foof if these events happened to me today.

Many years ago, during a less-than-great time, I was experiencing some issues with my bowels. I needed some medicated intervention down south ASAP, so I decided to go to a nearby drugstore to retrieve the necessary items.

(NOTE: My car does not actually fly. It can only reach a maximum speed of 23 mph and the horn sound is similar to the vocalizations of a farm animal.)


I chose to shop at this one specific drugstore because every time I had been there previously, there was always older women working behind the counter, and I could buy whatever products I needed and not feel weird about it.

As I wandered (painfully) through the florescent-lit space, I grabbed the things I needed:

-Fiber One Cookies

-Preparation H


And finally, as if matters weren’t unfortunate enough, I also had a raging period. So I bought two more items:

-Giant, overnight maxi pads with wings (These are basically fancy diapers, let’s be real here.)

-A bag of Reese’s (Don’t worry, the irony isn’t lost on me. But I figured the laxative powder would cancel out any of the constipation from the chocolate. See? I had everything sorted out.)

I headed to the counter to pay for my plethora of remedies, with a sense of calm reassurance flowing through my pores. My unfortunate situation was nearly just a memory.

I haphazardly placed all my crap on the counter. (Heads up: this is where the story turns regrettable.)



Standing behind the counter were not any of the women I had seen there countless times before. Oh no. It was perhaps the most attractive-looking young man I had ever seen – or may ever see – in this life. Imagine for a moment the top (literally, the number one) male model in the world decided to quit modelling one day and work at your local drugstore for no reason. Imagine you went to that same drugstore the very next day and bought the most obvious constipation, hemorrhoid, menstruation products at the same time and slathered them shamelessly on the counter in front of him.

During those first few seconds, the situation looked like this:


Within 4 seconds, the air between him and I changed.

Picture, if you will, his gorgeous face transforming into a state of primal fear because he’s new to this life and emotionally not able to handle the fact that women have bodies, and his awkwardness flows from him with more strength than you can bear. Imagine you suddenly become painfully aware of this cringe-fest, but have no choice but to tolerate it because you NEED those things on the counter. That, my friends, is what transpired. Him and I became trapped in the sacred space I call, the Zone of Discomfort.



He scanned each item slowly, avoiding all eye contact with me. The realization that I was buying all these things at the same time appeared to traumatize him and subsequently, me. I figured the panic must have inhibited his motor skills to a certain degree because he was moving as if he were in some kind of nightmare.


After a few brief moments of unbearable awkwardness, he managed to utter a total. His vocalizations barely reached my eardrums through the Zone of Discomfort. It’s thick fog created a terrible barrier.


The fact is, this experience was so awkward because of the combination of events that happened to occur together. Like the perfect storm, this situation had all the right components for devastation: nineteen year-old me, nineteen year-old most attractive human on earth, and our unavoidable interaction involving products that suggested embarrassment and pain at the mere sight of the packaging. I did not utter a single word, yet, my basket of items screamed, “EVERYTHING NEAR MY BUM IS HURTING AND BLEEDING AND I’M DYING.”

After what felt like a century of nauseating levels of tension, I swiped my debit card and noped out of there with such velocity that Usain Bolt would’ve been left choking on my dust.




Back safely in my car, I ripped open the bag of Reese’s to heal myself from the cringe-fest I just experienced. Luckily, I never saw the model employee again, and he probably was thankful he never saw me again either. We had bonded in the most unfortunate way. His heart and my heart were forever united for those few brief moments of unparalleled embarrassment. I feel a sort of kinship with him, but also, I pray our paths may never cross again.

What’s the moral lesson to be taken from this story? There is no moral lesson. If you want to humiliate yourself in front of attractive people in public spaces, I’m sure the story I described above will inspire you to cringe your way through life. I am proud of you – go forth and live your best life in the Zone of Discomfort.

Just some advice for everyone else: always use the self-check out.

xo kel


The Line We Toe with Neurodiversity

Lately, I’ve been seeing so much stuff online normalizing people with neurological conditions, but in a way that I feel is doing a great deal of damage. It’s been hard to find the words to describe what exactly is wrong with the “neurodiversity movement” because I fear I will be torn to shreds by all the special needs parents, purely because I’m not repeating the same mantra as everyone else. (Like, is the term special needs considered demeaning? I don’t know anymore.)

So if this post leads to my internet death, so be it. (Although I’ve always wanted to die through a crazy encounter with a giant bird of prey, but let’s get back to the blog here…)

In our mysterious politically correct world, we want everything and everyone to be so special and wonderful and great. We don’t want to offend anyone, or make anyone uncomfortable, or deal with trauma and pain.

It’s all good, all the time. And if it’s not good, it will be good again very quickly I swear DON’T PANIC EVERYTHING’S FINE STOP PANICKING.

It all begs the question: are we learning to look on the bright side, or are we learning to only look on the bright side because the other side is not ok? I repeat, It’s not OK. Don’t look over there. Hide yo kids, hide yo wife, etc.


Where Things Get Icky

We spend so much time reading about how people with neurological conditions are “beating the odds” and “finding their passion” and “bringing uniqueness to the world.” The flawless-looking Instagram mom posts a photo of her 5 year-old son, he has autism and epilepsy. In the photo he’s smiling peacefully, using an organic pencil to create a piece of abstract artwork (which honestly looks amazing, holy crap) while the sun shines gently on the scene. Her husband is so handsome it’s shocking, and they all live in a jaw-dropping home straight out of Disgustingly Rich Southern Living Magazine, where they were a featured family in Issue 23.

There will, however, be no Instagram photo of that morning, when that same boy had a massive meltdown because he had to get his hair brushed. She won’t be posting a selfie of her tired face, as she was up all night with him dealing with side effects from his new medication. His younger sibling won’t sleep through the night, and she misses quality time with husband, and her eldest child is being bullied at school. (AND, her husband is also secretly one of those robot husbands fabricated in Japan, and a few friends are suspicious but none will ever say, “hey gurl, I’m pretty sure your husband is a robot.”)

You’ll see photos of her special, unique family, with all their blessings.

Her son with various special needs (there I go again with that term…am I to be executed now?) is unique, he is amazing, he is beautiful – he is a blessing. But the reality they face everyday raising a child with circumstances unthinkable to many is significantly less beautiful, and significantly less of a blessing. When you’re up to 3am because you’re having a panic attack for 7 hours about him, it’s not beautiful, and blessed is the opposite word to describe you feel.

Neurodiversity on the Street

The neurodiversity movement has exploded, thanks in part to the internet. (Thanks Internet, even though you can be annoying, you are still pretty cool.)

This means that people with atypical brains are being recognized and supported in more ways than ever. You can go up to any old person on the street and ask them, “What is autism?” and chances are, they will actually know something about autism. They may even know someone with autism and have an understanding of how this condition manifests itself in various people.


If everything sounds so hunky-dory, than why on this great Earth am I making a blog post about it?


The main source of neurodiversity influence for neurotypical people is the media. I’m looking at you, Facebook and Netflix. While it’s wonderful that millions of people are exposed to the realities of living with a different kind of brain, that reality is often skewed to fit an idea of what neurodiversity should be.

It’s almost like one of those Pinterest projects. You try to make those gorgeous red velvet cupcakes for your upcoming Christmas party. The photo you saw on Pinterest looked delicious and cute, but when you made them, your cupcakes looked like victims of a murder, and the taste was bland and filled with disappointment.


The conversation being had about neurodiversity looks wonderful, but the reality is not so wonderful for the people directly impacted by neurodiversity. I’m not saying neurodiverse people are ugly cupcakes, but if I could create a visual of my life when things are really shitty, that visual would be of an ugly cupcake.

The Crux of the Matter

There is something lurking below the surface of this neurodiversity movement. It’s something that’s already been brewing for a while, but has the potential to overflow and make a big mess if it’s not addressed. It’s part of the not-always-so-glamorous-reality that we face as people with unique mindscapes. (Yes, mindscape, like landscape but of the mind. Think Bob Ross, but with less happy trees and more hippocampus.)

When we push people to accept neurodiverse individuals as “normal, but different” we create the belief that these people do not need any help. We put them on a pedestal of “YOU ARE PERFECT THE WAY YOU ARE, NEVER CHANGE.” Like something we write in our best friend’s yearbook at the end of middle school, we mean well.


Ok, I’m not on fire, but you get my point?

It’s easy to reassure someone that they should be celebrated because of their unique neurological makeup when you aren’t the person with the unique neurological makeup.


Maybe we don’t want ND people to change. We appreciate and love them just the way they are. But what if they could be themselves without all of the struggles? Our love for them wouldn’t change, and their lives would be easier.


I often hear, “But my/my child’s/my partner’s life journey with this condition is part of who I am/they are. We should learn to love ourselves and others as they are. If you take that away, it wouldn’t be me/them anymore.”

As a person with an atypical brain (god bless you, you dysfunctional piece of meat), I can tell you, I am more than just a little different. I am not able to do many normal things. Sometimes I can do normal things, but then I pay for it later. (Sensory people you know what I’m talking about here.) I have gotten very skilled at pretending to be normal in many situations.

The thing is, I want to change. The way I am – the way my brain is – is freaking annoying. Basic activities can be hard and frustrating. It’s often stressful for my family. I’m exhausted from my life, and I’m only 27. I don’t have any spectacular mental gifts; I have spectacularly bad vestibular regulation.

Would I still have turned into the person I am today without having to manage a confusing and craptastic life of SPD? Yes, probably. And maybe I could have avoided dealing with the crippling depression and anxiety that comes with it. My SPD has made me who I am, but I would much rather it didn’t.

I’m still me with or without my neurological problem. It has shaped the person I am today, but it has added so much negativity that the few positives barely register as valuable to me.


Many advocates for neurodiversity are campaigning for ND people to have long-lasting careers, date, socialize, participate in society in every way that NT people do. Unfortunately, this is not always possible. Again, like the Pinterest cupcakes, it sounds like a good idea, but reality has a different plan.

These people mean well, but unless they have lived it, it can be hard to understand the complexities of why “normalcy” may never be achieved.

For a person with high-functioning autism, for example, normalcy is possible in many ways. For a non-verbal person with autism who needs constant care and therapy left and right, this is significantly less possible. To suggest otherwise is undermining the reality many people and their families face everyday.

If we push neurodiversty as a normal thing, then we forget that having a dysfunctional brain condition is not normal at all.

Pushing neurodiversity as “normal” is ok when it’s referring to being diverse in ways that aren’t related to disorders or diseases. Like, I am really, really good with colors. I mean, I can organize, coordinate, identify, manipulate, and create colors in ways that I’ve found many people are impressed by. I believe my brain is really good at this for no reason. It is diverse but in a good way.


Having autism is not good. Having severe anxiety is not good. Having OCD is not good. I’m almost certain most people would choose to not have any neurological condition, if given the chance. Parents would wish their child to be rid of all their struggles. Regular neuro-typical life is dang hard already – if we are given these extra problems to live with, let’s make sure we go about advocating for ourselves in the right direction.

Neurodiverse individuals can’t do everything. Even with accommodations, sometimes they will never be able to have total independence or success as defined by a group of people known as “the rest of the world.”

What to Take-Away from this freaking long blog post:

With all that said, the neurodiversity movement needs to propel itself forward with these three ideas in mind: Education, Acceptance, and Support.

  1. People need to be educated about neurological differences in a way that is not demeaning or false. The media has tremendous power in their hands to educate people in a way that will challenge old and outdated perspectives without being the same story of a white, teenage, man with exceptional brain abilities but terrible social status.
  2. The current neurodiversity movement is focused on acceptance, and it should continue to do so. However….
  3. The movement is not focused on support, and without support for ND individuals, the first two points are basically worthless. We can educate the population, and accept people for the way they were born, but without support (financial, medical, therapeutic, emotional, etc.) there is little chance of success or normalcy for individuals who are deeply impacted by various disorders.

Being neurodiverse is ok; celebrating it as normal and insisting that life of neurodiverse individuals can be exactly like those neurotypical individuals is not ok. It’s so easy to ride the politically correct wave. It’s less easy to stand up and say, “Hey ya goons, this is not all sunshine and roses! Stop glamorizing and normalizing neurological disorders and start funding programs that will help people like me do basic life stuff.”

Peace xo


Empathy on the Spectrum

Here’s a crappy story to set the stage: During my seemingly endless school years, I would become unusually distressed if any sort of intensely emotional situation occurred. If there was a lot of happiness, I would cry (but not in a good way). If a teacher was harshly scolding a student in class, I would become extremely upset (and probably cry). It felt as if I was being yelled at, even if I had nothing to do with the situation.  Nobody else seemed bothered by these events, but I couldn’t shake it all day. This was because I was mostly unable to separate myself from emotionally heightened experiences.  To this day I struggle with this problem, and it’s fiercely annoying and embarrassing.

I can walk into a room and absorb all the emotions and energies in that room, to the point of making me sick. Momsy used to jokingly call me “Spongebob” for my unfortunate emotional absorbency problem. “Snapping out of it” or growing thick skin seemed to work little for me. I resented myself deeply for it then, and sometimes I still do.

Loud, sudden noises made me cry, but why did silent, angry people make me cry too? Strangely, I could also appear stoic and distant during these situations. My intense meltdown-like reaction would eventually show up at a later, unfortunate time.

I only recently discovered that I was not alone in this empathy problem. Also, this special feature of mine was not something that could be attributed to Sensory Processing Disorder, rather, to my surprise, was a problem for many people with Asperger’s.

All this led me to the belief that people with autism actually feel the world too much. The outward behaviors are a reflection of the inability to process the emotional world. I came up with this theory back in 2010, then later I read about something similar in Temple Grandin’s book at the time, The Autistic Brain. Basically, Temple Grandin is a mind-reader because she literally stole the theory out of my head. I forgive you Temple, it’s ok. Mostly…

The question we face now is, what’s going on in our awesome but slightly wonky brains that so many people with autism seem to have both no empathy and too much empathy?

There is this consistent, and supremely annoying stereotype of people on the autistm spectrum in regards to their ability to feel empathy. The thing is, most people believe one of the defining traits of people on the spectrum is that they are not capable of experiencing empathy at all.

In a way, this is understandable when you think about the behaviors some autistic people show.

(Yes, I said “autistic people” as well as “people with autism” because we are all mature audiences and we can comprehend that a person who has autism is not defined by their autism, and they are, in fact, a separate person. If you are still bothered by this, then you may want to go to a different blog. Here on Eating Off Plastic, I know people with autism/autistic people don’t really care what language is used, they just want to be treated like a person. Rant over, let’s continue with the important stuff.)

If you were to google symptoms of autism right now, here is what google will show you:

autism empathy snip

This is a screenshot I took just now. Just underneath this text is a link to WebMD, which is “the most popular source of health information in the US.”

Yes, there are four – count ’em – FOUR bullets on this list. If you click the link, you get a much better, more expansive list of symptoms, but I’d say overall the short list is not only pitiful, but grossly inaccurate.


For any person who is mostly clueless about autism, this list would be a terrible thing for them to come across. If you discovered a manual for a DVD player made in 2002, but you owned a DVD player made in 2015, the manual would be terribly unhelpful. It’s the same sort of premise here.

Let’s review those bullet points:

The first and second ones I don’t have a problem with because those are genuine issues for many autistic people.


It’s with the third one where things starts to get iffy. Yes, it is true that people on the spectrum may struggle with “sharing enjoyment, interests, or achievements with other people” but what that whole thing is kinda saying is, “autistic people don’t give a foof about anyone else.” This third point makes it feel like they are pushing the “weird loners” stereotype, and that bothers me, even if it is sort of true or some.

Moving on to the fourth one, “lack of empathy,” is again pretty much saying, “autistic people don’t give a foof about anyone else.


So, the question becomes: do people with autism experience empathy? The internet sure doesn’t think so. But I think the internet is wrong. Gasp! It’s time to be hit with a crap-load of facts.

The definition of empathy is: the ability to understand, share, and respond to the feelings of another. 

VERY IMPORTANT POINT #1: Autistic people struggle to understand the feelings of other people; AKA take their perspective.

Right away you can see the problem here. The definition of empathy and point #1 contradict each other.

This ability to understand the perspective of another person is known as Theory of Mind. You may be familiar with the autism experiment of having children watch puppets playing with marbles. One puppet hides the marble then leaves. Another puppet comes on stage and moves the marble to a box. The children are then asked where they think the first puppet will look for the marble.

Children on the spectrum will often assume that even though the first puppet did not see the second puppet move the marble to the box, she will look in the box. These children don’t understand that people around them don’t share their knowledge of the situation.

Children off the spectrum will understand that the first puppet will not know that the marble was moved to the box, even though they know it was moved.

This ability to understand another person’s knowledge and perspective of the world is also known as Cognitive Empathy.

Cognitive Empathy often involves deliberate thinking and processing. When you try to see the world from someone else’s shoes, you have to make a conscious effort to do so.

People on the autism spectrum find Cognitive Empathy difficult, but not impossible. However, there is another kind of empathy….

VERY IMPORTANT POINT #2: Autistic people have too much Emotional Empathy.

The second kind of empathy is known as Emotional Empathy, which involves the ability to feel, sense, and respond to the emotions of others.

When you see someone who is upset, you might feel upset too. This is called having Emotional Empathy. Surprisingly, you may know of some neurotypical people who have more Cognitive Empathy than Emotional Empathy. The opposite seems to be true for people on the spectrum.

Emotional Empathy is primal, unconscious, and automatic. You don’t have much control over this type of empathy. Like how you can’t stop yourself from crying when you see Sarah Mclachlan on the dang tv with the orphaned animals? Yea. That’s normal, and happens because of E.E.

sarah mclachlan

A person with autism may be overwhelmed with emotion upon seeing a loved one get married, but they may struggle to understand why exactly that happiness is occurring around them, or why they should be happy at all. But they feel happiness intensely.

Let’s stop associating the word “autism” with the word “apathy” and start understanding that people on the spectrum are diverse, complex, funny, thoughtful, affectionate, and a million more things.

When you interact with a person on the spectrum, do not doubt for a second that they care deeply about the world around them. The care so much that they are overstimulated, overwhelmed, and do not know how to respond appropriately. (This is especially true for my Aspie friends.) Because of this, they react with anxiety. Anxiety on the spectrum manifests itself through fidgeting, repetitive behavior, and no eye contact. It appears like the person is unfeeling, but in reality, their brain is doing whatever it can to withdraw from the situation because it is too intense.


But wait, what about those fancy Mirror Neurons?

Ah yes, mirror neurons are these cool things in your brain that react when you witness someone performing the same action as yourself; aka mimicking behavior. It was believed that people on the spectrum had “broken mirror neurons” which would explain why they seem so incapable of sharing or mimicking emotion and expressions.

Thankfully, recent research has shown that this is not true. In fact, while autistic people are very much capable of mirroring expressions, the social hardships they face can probably be attributed to feeling overwhelmed by – you guessed it – emotions, so much so that they shutdown or that they  – you guessed it again – do not understand why someone would feel the way they do, and are not motivated to share the social bond of facial expression mimicry. This backs the theory that the autistic brain is challenged by cognitive empathy but not emotional empathy.

Whew, that was a mouthful! I look like a chipmunk right now… (A cute one, though, for the record. Not that I’ve ever seen a non-cute chipmunk. I digress…)


Us highly sophisticated individuals with the advanced prefrontal cortices (that’s the plural form of cortex, just found that out tonight) need to make a brand spankin’ new concept of empathy on the spectrum. We can do so much better than that google search yielding four crappy bullet points. Autism does not and should not correlate with the image of an unfeeling robot who gives no foofs.



To start this movement, I’ve created this nifty graphic for us to spread around like jam on toast.




And that’s where I leave you, quirksters. Some stuff to think about on this fine day.

Please leave a comment below, or share the whole post or one of the graphics above.

xo kelly


Here are some of the references for the research I’ve mentioned in this blog post, for the curious:

No, autistic people do not have a "broken" mirror neuron system – new evidence








Sensory Anxiety: Not your ordinary anxiety

Before you dive in, a quick note. This article was written for the STAR Institute for SPD for Sensory Awareness Month 2017. Sensory anxiety is a topic near and dear to my heart. After it was published, I heard from so many people around the world about how this particular article had really moved them. I was so grateful. I am finally publishing it here on my blog, where it will live forever and evah. 


Let’s talk about something that nearly every single person with sensory issues has to deal with: ANXIETY.  Gosh! Even the word itself sets me on edge.

For people with Sensory Processing Disorder, anxiety comes as part of the package. It’s the bonus prize that nobody wants.


SPD and Anxiety work together to cause mayhem. They play off each other, and create a spiral effect of symptoms.

Strangely, when we talk about sensory problems, anxiety is rarely part of that conversation. The focus is always on the sensory part of SPD. But I would like to shed some light on the chaos that anxiety can cause when it’s teamed up with SPD, and why it’s different than non-sensory anxiety.

But first, it’s time for a little story. A short tale of my own experience with sensory anxiety to set the stage. The following is the true and slightly uncomfortable reality of my life:

I’ve always been told that the best –  and perhaps only – way to conquer anxiety is to put myself into situations that make me anxious, and to push through it.

(Whatever that means.)

I’ve done this for years.

I’ve done this most recently through college, where every morning before my commute to school, I had to give myself extra time because of anxiety-induced diarrhea and nausea. My agonizing stomach cramps and bathroom visit occurred daily, without fail. (I told you this was going to be an uncomfortable story.) I couldn’t stomach food for hours. But, only on the days when I had school. There are no such things as coincidences in this sensory life.

Once I made it to school, I often had to give myself even more time to find a bathroom and change my shirt, which would’ve been soaked in sweat before my first class even began. I spent the large part of my day feeling enormously dizzy. My face hurt from a clenched jaw and the muscles in my back were sore from tension.

Often, I bought myself a warm drink in an attempt to soothe my trembling body, which was trembling on account of being both anxious and also cold. (Fact: when the body is anxious, blood rushes to the main organs, leaving the extremities feeling cold and/or numb.)

I’d come home at the end of the day and nap for an unreasonable amount of time, like 6 hours. My body was depleted, from what I assumed was sensory overload. One day it occurred to me that I was not only physically and emotionally exhausted from SPD, but also from my anxiety that was caused by my SPD. Then the anxiety and SPD and feeling helpless and feeling hopeless made me seriously depressed.  Would the fun ever end? I wondered.

I went to college for four and a half years. I pushed through my debilitating anxiety every day, and wouldn’t you know it, the last day of college rolled along, and that morning I had diarrhea and a sweat-soaked shirt. Just like the first day.


The End!

I know, I know. It was a truly riveting tale. One that will certainly go down in history as one of the greatest stories known to man. But let’s get back to what matters here. Physical symptoms of anxiety are only one part of the equation.

At the end of the day, I learned that pushing through my anxiety did nothing to help alleviate it. All it did was make me miserable and feel like I was weak for not being able to get rid of my symptoms.

Since that time, I’ve come to realize that the reason traditional methods of alleviating anxiety were not working for me was because I had a very good reason to be anxious. 

Now it’s time to introduce the second part of this equation: Sensory Processing Disorder.

In my case, my SPD has gifted me with overwhelming sensory sensitivity and the inability to function when having to process multiple sensory stimuli. In most environments, like a classroom for example, my body picks up on the sounds, smells, textures, and even the vibe in the air to an outrageous extent. My sensory brain is turned up to the highest setting and it isn’t very good at turning off.



As one can imagine, having SPD is not fun. Anybody who says it is, well, they are a goober. It’s called a disorder for a reason. It’s not called Sensory Processing Fun Times All Around (SPFTAA). Although, I admit that would be a cool thing.

Dear reader who I love so very much even though I’ve never met you,

If you can relate to my gastrointestinal distress in sensory-ugly environments, please take comfort in the fact that what you are feeling both physically and emotionally is very normal. For instance, when the sound of most people’s voices are loud to the point of severe discomfort, being in a place with lots of people talking is going to give you anxiety. It makes sense.

Let’s briefly recap and take a look at the complete equation. Keep in mind, I spent a lot of time making this:



Consider this:

You wouldn’t say to someone, “hey, I know there’s a hungry shark in this swimming pool, and every time you’ve gone in he’s bitten you, BUT you don’t need to be anxious about swimming because if you keep going in, he won’t bite you anymore!”

Yet, we’ve been telling ourselves, “hey self, I know you have SPD, and every time you go into a sensory unfriendly environment it’s super distressing, but you don’t need to be anxious this time because if you keep pushing through it, you won’t have anxiety anymore!”


This concept of pushing through anxiety often works for regular, non-sensory anxiety. Allow me to demonstrate:

When you were five you went to a birthday party. A person waved a bunch of balloons around your face and you FREAKED OUT. Fast forward ten years later, and you have anxiety whenever you see balloons.

To alleviate this kind of anxiety, you start to spend time around balloons. Maybe you go into a room where someone has placed a balloon. Maybe next time, you move a bit closer to it. After that, you touch one. Your balloon-related anxiety slowly improves over time. You are able to push through the anxiety by addressing the irrational thoughts and fears you experience, and replacing them with rational ones. “Balloons aren’t scary. I do not need to feel anxious around them. I am ok.”

**I’d like to note that when I say regular anxiety I do not mean less anxiety. Anxiety from having a neurological condition like SPD is a different kind of anxiety, not more or less severe than anxiety from other things.**

Now let me demonstrate how this concept does not work for sensory anxiety:

When you were six you went to a birthday party. You are sound sensitive, and during the party, kids were popping balloons. It upset you deeply. Fast forward ten years later, and you have anxiety whenever you see balloons.

To alleviate this kind of anxiety, being around balloons will not reduce your anxious feelings because you are still sound sensitive, and balloons could potentially pop at any time. If they pop, it will scare you the same every time.


The reason people with sensory problems have recurring, stubborn anxiety is because many SPD’ers lack the ability to habituate (become accustomed to) new information. Our unique sensory systems do not do well with what I refer to as POTENTIAL stimuli. We like routine and predictability. But a lot of sensory stimuli is neither of those things. The world is full of random, unusual and unpredictable things. When you have a brain that struggles to make sense of the predictable – let alone the unpredictable – it’s easy to understand why anxiety is the result.


When you have anxiety from sensory issues, it presents itself the same way non-sensory anxiety does; the symptoms are virtually the same. It can be hard to distinguish between sensory overload and anxiety. Most commonly, SPD anxiety can look like this:


However, if you notice, the symptoms of sensory anxiety are similar to symptoms of a freeze response. Unless the sensory stimulation or the anxiety reaches a breaking point, people with SPD tend to literally freeze during an anxiety crisis. The meltdown and shutdown occurs after, when they are in a safer space to let it all out. Of course, this doesn’t always happen so nicely, and sometimes you find yourself completely dissociated and about to vomit from a fire drill in the middle of the hallway at school. It’s equal parts inconvenient and embarrassing.


Consider the source! To fix or improve sensory anxiety, you have to learn what sensory-related problems give you anxiety in the first place. You don’t want to keeping jumping into the swimming pool with the shark. Remove that shark before you go swimming!

Here are some of my favorite, tried-and-true methods for relieving anxiety when it’s tied to sensory issues:

  1. Make it known: Tell people around you that you have sensory issues. Explain specifically what you struggle with (noise, physical contact, need for fidgeting). When more people are aware of it, the more likely your surroundings will be a sensory-safe space, which will reduce your anxiety. People can’t help you remove the shark from the swimming pool if they don’t know it’s there.
  2. Alternatives and Avoidance: I tell people this all the time, and I’m saying it again. It’s very much ok to avoid the anxiety-producing event all together. Perhaps there is another swimming pool without any sharks. Or perhaps you do not have to swim today. It’s very much acceptable to turn down an offer to swim if you know you’ll be bitten by sharks.
  3. Gear up: Sometimes, you have to swim with sharks. The best thing to do is to prepare your physical and emotional state for this encounter. Some sensory anxiety can’t be avoided, and when that happens, gear up your sensory self in the ways that work for you. Maybe you need to jump on a trampoline, or use a Wilbarger brush, or use a fidget. Allow yourself time to do what you need to ahead of time.
  4. Make time to bounce back: In the event that you did have to swim with a shark, and there was no time to prepare beforehand, it’s necessary to dedicate time and energy to letting your sensory anxiety calm down afterward. Just like preparing beforehand, it’s crucial to give yourself time to bounce back after.

With all that in mind, I must conclude with this: experiencing anxiety from having sensory issues is normal, common, and expected. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Your brain is reacting as any brain would under the circumstances. I know somedays the anxiety can be crippling. Other days, it can seem like it’s on a permanent vacation! Flip flopping like that can be draining and confusing.

Pushing through sensory anxiety won’t work to alleviate it, but that doesn’t mean you should stop pushing the boundaries of your life as a person with sensory issues. You don’t have to go in the shark pool, but it’s probably to your advantage to go up the edge and peek in.



Why “it could be worse” makes me feel worse

A few months ago, I was working on a new mantra. (The word mantra also sounds fancy and psychologically complex, so it feels cool to think I am working on one). I’m a goober, I know.

With the constant bombardment of social media, news media, and print media – ok, ALL THE MEDIA – telling me the pains of the world, I decided my new mantra would be:

“it could be worse.”

AKA, my own problems and pains are pointless because, well, look at how terribly other people are suffering.

In an attempt to alleviate my personal struggles, I thought it would be helpful to give myself some perspective. For instance:


The list went on, and it could’ve gone on forever. I thought, “if I constantly remind myself of how good things are in other areas of my life, I will simply banish the bad things with my super-positive-mindset-mantra brain power.”

And it worked, for a little while.

I read books about positive thinking. I read articles online about letting go of unpleasant thoughts. I watched videos on how to stop being depressed. I exercised when I felt my depression coming on.  I faked it until I would make it….except I wasn’t making it.

There was a gigantic flaw in my mantra.

I began to feel guilty for feeling upset or concerned about the “bad” in my own life. Or worse, I felt guilty for experiencing the physical symptoms of my own issues, like severe fatigue, for instance.






And so, my mantra began to crumble faster than an old crumb cake.

It occurred to me that while it was important to work towards having a positive perspective on my life, it was equally important not to disregard my own struggles and think of them as minuscule or paltry.

No, I do not have a brain-eating amoeba, but that shouldn’t make my struggle with my sensory processing disorder, or depression, or anxiety, or anything else less valid. It’s OK for me to be concerned about these issues and how they impact my life. They are not “first-world problems.” They are my problems, and they are real.


Yea I know, when I frame it like that, it does sound ridiculous.

Reasons the Mantra failed:

  1. Telling myself that other people have it worse did not make my problems go away. Rather, it made me feel worthless, weak and guilty for having them in the first place.
  2. It’s not about having a positive outlook, or different perspective on life. I am grateful for the life I was given, I appreciate the good (trust me, I really do). Thinking, “today I will not be anxious or upset by sound because there are people starving to death” did not – believe it or not – make me less anxious or upset by sound. It only made me feel selfish and powerless.
  3. It’s not about empathy, because I have cried for people I read about online in another country whom I’ve never met because they are suffering in ways I will probably never know. Did this change how I was able to face my own problems? Not really.
  4. In the beginning, my mantra sounded good. However, it would be the same as saying, “there are people who are happier than I am, so I cannot be happy.”
  5. I was attempting to control things which I’m literally unable to control most of the time.


What I’ve decided to do instead (and what YOU should do too):

  1. Recognize negative thinking patterns and focus my attention elsewhere. Similar to meditation, I am working on taking my negative thoughts or feelings, and letting them pass through me like water; in one side, and out the other. It’s OK for them to stop by, but they aren’t allowed to stay.
  2. Identify when my thinking patterns or inner dialogue is irrational – and make it rational.
  3. Not beat myself up with old school Catholic guilt for having problems in my life, even if other people technically have more serious problems.
  4. Stop stigmatizing my own mental health issues, because I deserve better than that.
  5. Try not to be super-duper jealous of the many people who have easier lives than I do (namely, people without neurological dysfunction on multiple levels). Also, continue to be appreciative of what I can do and all the good things my life has afforded me so far.
  6. Harry Potter movie binging




Xo Kelly

Halloween and How to Upset the Elderly

My favorite holiday is just around the corner: Halloween.

Witches, ghosts, candy, and people making bad decisions in horror movies; what’s not to love about the season of spooks?

Back when I was a spirited ten year-old, I spent my school days experiencing crippling anxiety brainstorming ideas for my Halloween costume using precise, statistical formulas:


After careful meditation and self-reflection, I chose what my ten year-old self believed to be the most creative, hilarious costume yet: A CEREAL KILLER.

Yes, you read that correctly. CEREAL. It was like being a serial killer with less serial and more CEREAL.

This was set to be the best Halloween ever.

The Big Day

October 31st finally arrived after what seemed like several lifetimes. Preparing my cereal killer costume took a lot of preparation. I had to collect – and eat – numerous mini boxes of cereal. Then, I had to stab each of the boxes with a plastic knife and paint fake blood gushing from the wound. Finally, I taped each box to my clothes, and added some blood splatter on my face for mood enhancement, and then I was ready to go.


Momsy liked the costume because it was cheap and easy. She simply had to buy the cereal, which I ate anyway. It was a win-win. Dad was also a fan because he liked simple yet humorous costumes. In fact, for several years in a row, my Dad was a leaf blower:


As dusk emerged, I sprinted with my friends to the first house for some sugary gems.

However, after visiting a few houses, a pattern began to materialize. Whenever someone old answered the door, they appeared heavily distressed by my costume.













Yet house after house of elderly folks, the reaction upon seeing my costume was the same. I became a bit dismayed. Young people, even those delightful middle-aged homeowners, seemed to enjoy my costume. But those elders….not so much. Was it the thought of their beloved Fiber One cereal being gruesomely murdered too much to bear?

New Beginnings


Dad was right. I didn’t need the approval of wrinkly people to enjoy my Halloween festivities! Nay. My costume was funny and creative and definitely unique. If I was going to continue my trick-or-treating as a cereal killer, than darn it all, I was going to be the most terrifying cereal killer around. And I was going to do it with style.






Moral of the story: always be true to yourself… especially if you’re a ten year-old cereal killer.

And to my senior friends: You better take good care of your fiber-filled breakfasts. I may be stopping by your house….for MURDERRRRRRRRRRRR.



xo kelly

True Tales: Owl Encounter

It was just an ordinary Thursday evening, or so I thought.

I was up to one of my usual activities: sewing. (Note: I may or may not be a wrinkly old lady trapped inside the body of a super attractive young woman.)

In the middle of stitching away my emotional pain, I heard a ruckus from the other side of my house. (Well, my parent’s house. I don’t own a house. I have no money.)

owl 1

owl 2

When you live in the wilderness as I do, you know that bird behavior is very indicative of the state of the environment. Meaning, if the birds are freaking out, something’s going on. And that something is usually a predator.

To my absolute and total delight, that predator happened to be an owl. A barred owl, in fact. If it wasn’t obvious from my owl hat that I’m really into flying creatures (especially owls) let it be known: I’m really into owls.

owl 4

The barred owl – the elusive animal that it is – is rarely seen, but often heard. They are known as the “who-cooks-for-you” owl, as their hoot sounds bizarre and more like a monkey on steroids than a majestic bird. Believe me though, this is a creature of pure elegance.

It was clear that the owl had arrived to reunite with me and connect spirits.

owl 3

Through years of practice and experience, I have essentially mastered the barred owl call. However, it is still a mystery as to why no owls flock to me when I perform the tune with perfection and grace.

owl 5

From what I could tell, the owl was really paying attention. His face said “focus and concentration.” He was into it.

owl 6

Suddenly, a bird flew from another dimension and BOOPED my owl friend right in the face!

owl 7

Though annoyed, the owl did not move from his branch. Instead, his expression changed from “mildly irritated” to “apathetic slow burn.”

owl 8

Meanwhile, I sprinted inside to grab my cheap pair of binoculars. If this was going to be an evening of  intense owl observation and possible spirit connection, I needed to be prepared.

owl 9

Just as I focused my lenses on the owl, it took off into the dense woods. My world, once warm and illuminated, was now dark and lifeless as Voldemort himself.

owl 10

owl 11

owl 12

Eternity passed – although admittedly it was only a few minutes –  before my owl friend reappeared. This time, he was on the opposite side of our backyard. I maneuvered my way closer in what could only be described as a “slow dash.” As in, I was trying to go as fast as possible while simultaneously moving at a snail’s pace, as to not frighten the owl. (In some cultures, I’m certain these same bodily movements are used to summon spirits and curses.)

owl 13

Momsy and Sister came outside to catch the action.

OWL 14

owl 16

In my mind, I pictured the moment to be intense, in a spiritual-enlightenment kind of way. It wasn’t like that though.

owl 17


A Few Days Later

A miracle was about to occur in my life and I was not emotionally prepared for it. Just a few days after my first owl encounter, I heard the familiar screech from the woods. I went outside with my binoculars, hoping to catch another glimpse.

I was not expecting what would happen next.

I spotted the owl on a low hanging branch. Suddenly, I heard an identical screech but from another tree! To my utter delight, two owls appeared on the branch together. My excitement was overwhelming.

Could this moment possibly get any better?!

As if the universe was hearing my informal plea, a THIRD owl made itself comfortable on the branch next to the others, who weren’t exactly happy to share the space. Nevertheless, it was a magical and remarkable moment for me. I have low standards for happiness.

OWL 19

owl 20

And that, quirksters, is the end of this story. Darkness overtook the sky, and I stood below a tree watching my winged friends until I could no longer see my own hand in front of my face.

It was a moment I will remember for a long time to come (but honestly will forget most of the details in a week).

xo kelly



ZEMS: The Best Hearing Protectors in the World

I’d like to think that even with my sensory problems, I can still manage to be the epitome of high-class sophistication and style at every minute of the day. Problem is, thinking it and being it are two very different things.

With my high sensitivity to sound, I always have an array of options to protect myself from the noisy noise of the world around me.

I’ve got fancy noise-cancelling headphones, and yes, they really do cancel the noise.

I’ve got special wax ear plugs imported from Europe (No, I’m not kidding. Momsy ordered them for me last year and they are wonderful and European.)

I’ve got cheap wax ear plugs that I bought from CVS Pharmacy. I hate them and they hate me.

I’ve got mushy styrofoam-like earplugs that will not fit into my baby-sized ears, and my hatred for them is so intense, I could cry.

But more importantly, I’ve got these:


Quirksters, I proudly present my most favorite form of hearing protection and noise reduction: ZEMS by Sensgard.

Although they appear awkward and non-functioning, do not let appearances fool you! These beauties are frighteningly effective at stopping unwanted sound waves from reaching my precious ear drums.

But how do they work?

im not saying its magic



But there’s real technology behind this. Those two tubes on either side (which sit in your ears) act as an extension of the ear canal. They are hollow, and physically pull certain frequencies of sound away from your ear. Yet, the design allows for some sounds, such as the sound of a person’s voice, to enter the ear mostly untouched.

What does this mean, Kelly?

ZEMS by Sensgard are the first and only form of hearing protection that I’ve come across that actually discriminate between unwanted and wanted sound. As in, I want to hear what people are trying to tell me but I don’t want to hear the clanging of dishes in the background. ZEMS take care of all that.

In essence, it’s a miracle product for human beans who suffer from sound sensitivity.

Look! Here’s an average man using a noisy and dangerous power tool in close proximity to his nether regions. Alas, the man fears nothing because his ZEMS have come to his rescue just in time when his friend from across the room said, “hey buddy careful where you’re aiming that thing!” And so, his man ornaments were saved, because over the noise of the machinery, he could still hear his friend’s warning.sensgard man

Look again! Here’s another human bean making the hard choice between neon orange or neon green ZEMS. (Neon green has my vote, at it totally matches the neon green accents in the rest of the space. But what do I know, I’m only an entry-level fashion designer.)


OH NO! ZEMS by Sensgard work so well that this innocent child is completely unaware that she’s about to be devoured by hordes of zombies in a matter of seconds! It’s too bad she left her page blank, she could’ve at least written some final words: Dear Ma and Pa, I leave you my pink shirt with the sparkly bow, and these red and yellow blocks which I am currently using as a makeshift chair and desk. I also leave you my notebook which contains a meticulous catalog of every cupcake I’ve ever eaten. Also, I’m a 245 year-old time lord and I knew this was going to happen.

watch out girl

ZEMS by Sensgard, as effective as they are, do have one design flaw. This flaw only seems to impact me, however. When I wear ZEMS, my head is not large enough to balance the apparatus on my head. With any movement, it will flop forward onto my face, or go flying backward off my head entirely. Therefor, I have found the most direct way to prevent this is to place a sock between my head and the ZEMS. This creates enough filler to stop it from falling off my apparently smallish head. The finished product is simply a feast for the eyes:

is it just me

With my ZEMS by Sensgard held in place by an old sock, I am literally unstoppable. I should probably purchase a child’s size instead, but look at me now:

rainbow zems

With the problem of noise eliminated, the only predicament remaining is a glaring one: I simply cannot leave the house wearing the ZEMS&sock combo. Not only would this be socially devastating, but it would most likely solidify my single lady status for eternity.


Oh wait, I forgot. I don’t give a flying flipper about social devastation. Sign me up for speed dating and I will show up with ZEMS and sock in hand, and I’ll be darned if every potential suitor refuses to marry me on the spot.


So there you have it. A fabulous noise eliminator, a stylish fashion accessory, and a courtship enhancing device, all wrapped in one.

If you think this whole post is a joke, let me show you this exclusive picture of me a few years ago, wearing my ZEMS&sock combo. Hashtag no shame.

zems pic

If you would like one, more info can be found on their website. Here’s the link -you’re welcome:

UPDATE: check out this great website below, featuring an super-duper thorough review of noise-cancelling headphones. This review is one of the best I’ve seen in terms of detail and depth of information. The review covers everything from over-ear and in-ear headphones, to the importance of active cancellation (as opposed to passive cancellation), to comfort, and everything in between. One of the winners was the pair of headphones that I own, the Bose Quiet Comfort (I knew I picked a winner!). If you’re looking for a headphone-focused review for noise reduction for those of us with sound sensitivty, go here: Headphone Review


Stay quirky my friends

xoxo kelly

SPD Diagnosis in Adulthood

Here is a fun fact according to many medical professionals: children with sensory processing disorder grow out of their sensory issues, and become well-adapted teens and adults.


In a previous post I coined the phrase: people grow out of sweaters, not neurological conditions.
I know this is true because nearly every week I read about a new person realizing that they have had sensory issues since childhood and these same problems continue to plague them in adulthood. However, these adults struggle to find a doctor willing to help them.

So this leads me to my next conundrum. Due to the belief that SPD is a disorder of childhood – WHICH WE GENIUSES OF THE INTERNET KNOW TO BE NOT TRUEanother belief now exists that there are no adults suffering with SPD. I use the term suffering because I’m almost certain nobody that has this condition actually enjoys it.

love having spd

Because of this idea that adults don’t have SPD, and doctors don’t always recognize it, we cannot get treatment or help OR ANYTHING because apparently we are not legit.

Story time:

Start from the Beginning

When I was thirteen years old, I went to a occupational therapist to talk about my worsening sensory issues. I was previously diagnosed with SPD at age 6, and 10 by an OT. Here’s a little summary of what happened:

it looks like

I know

grow out of it


goodbye forever

thank you for nothing

The end.

The OT handed me a piece of paper containing information about how to create a good sensory diet, AKA things I already knew.  My experience mirrors that of countless others, who, as adults, were unable to receive actual therapy beyond a consultation from an OT solely due to their age. Even worse, most adults who believe they have SPD cannot find an OT who will see them just once for a consultation.

I don’t know of any other condition where this happens. Age should not be a factor in being able to receive treatment for a possible neurological disorder. And so I thought to myself, “Self, it’s time to investigate.”

Find me an OT!

I took it upon myself to pretend to find an OT in my area that would work with SPD adults. Trusty ‘ol Google helped me out with this. I am not lying when I say that every single place that offered occupational therapy services in my area were clearly places for children:

Pediatric This; Pediatric That; Fun in the Sun OT; Big Leaps OT;  Little Hearts OT. You get the picture.

Strangely, back in the early 90’s when my Momsy was desperate to get me some help, she had a very hard time finding an OT that would work with children! I kid you not. OT was an adult thing. My my, how the times have changed!

Like with other neurological conditions, people like to pretend that once children grow up, the problems don’t exist anymore. It’s like the Magical Neuro Fairy waves his wand and the problems are gone! AMAZING!


What now?

How do you get a diagnosis or even better – TREATMENT – for Sensory Processing Disorder as an adult?

I don’t know.

The world of Occupational Therapy and SPD seem to revolve around children and children alone. I don’t know why this is, when there are clearly so many adults with sensory issues.

However, I’ve created a list of ways that will give you the best chance of getting a diagnosis:

  1. Contact any and all OT’s in your area and ask if they’re willing to meet with you (yes, call the OT center for children. You have nothing to lose). Even if they aren’t willing to do actual therapy with you, at least they can screen you and tell you whether or not your issues are sensory related.
  2. If option 1 doesn’t work, speak with your regular doctor and ask for a referral to see a specialist, such as an neurologist or psychologist/psychiatrist. There is a small chance that they can help you with your sensory issues. This is a neurological condition after all.


Crap. That list was shorter than I expected.

What to do if Kelly’s list didn’t work because it was too short:

Luckily, Sensory Processing Disorder is one of those problems that you can successfully manage on your own, without the help of an OT or medical professional. There is an abundance of information online – as well as in print – to guide SPD’ers of any age.

Here is my new list of what to do if you believe you have SPD but are unable to get a diagnosis/treatment because of your age (or any other reason):

  1. Go to a library, bookstore, or and get the following books: 
    1. Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues by Rachel S. Schneider
    2. The Out-of-Sync Child Grows Up by Carol Kranowitz
    3. Uptight and Off Center: How Sensory Processing Disorder Throws Adults Off Balance and How to Create Stability by Sharon Heller
    4. Too Loud, Too Bright, Too Fast, Too Tight: What to Do If You Are Sensory Defensive in an Overstimulating World by Sharon Heller
  2. Create your own Sensory Diet. What is a Sensory Diet? A Sensory Diet is a treatment plan that will help you throughout your day to manage your sensory issues. The “diet” usually consists of various sensory-related activities that help regulate and calm your specific sensory woes. For example, using a Wilbarger Brush 3 times a day, or using Chew Toys can be part of a sensory diet. Each person is different, and so each Sensory Diet will be different too.
  3. Join support groups for adults with Sensory Processing Disorder. I am currently an administrator for the Facebook group, Sensory Processing Disorder Adult Support. The page provides great emotional support and answers for SPD adults, both diagnosed and undiagnosed. There may also be support groups that meet in-person within your community.
  4. Find a mental health counselor or therapist to guide you through the other crapsauce that comes along with dealing with sensory issues. It’s not all about OT, you know. We are people, and people have feelings.

For the record, it’s very much OK to not have an SPD diagnosis. This is not a life-or-death condition, even though it can be a this-is-ruining-my-life condition. A diagnosis will not change how you approach your own life, and how you go about being proactive about your sensory issues. (An exception to this would be if you need a diagnosis for work or school modifications. In that case, a doctor or even a therapist may be able to sort out your educational/vocational issues without having to give you an “official” SPD diagnosis.)

I hope this was helpful to you, and if it wasn’t…then I’m not sorry because I did take a lot of time to look into this (hahaha).  However, I am sorry that the world isn’t up-to-speed with how to best help adults with sensory issues. It really sucks. Until that time, be your own advocate, and have some cake/cupcakes my friends.


xo kelly


SPD is not a “dubious diagnosis”

There I was, spending a quiet evening at home, munching diligently on some freshly-baked oatmeal cookies when my eyes scanned the internet headline “Why ‘Sensory Integration Disorder’ Is A Dubious Diagnosis.” The author of the article, Peter L. Heilbroner, MD, PhD, states that Sensory Processing Disorder (or Sensory Integration Disorder, as it’s also known) is not a real condition.

cookies yay

As I began to violently shovel oatmeal cookies into my mouth, I read and re-read his article over and over. Below, I have written a counter-argument, because I believe Sensory Processing Disorder is real and those of us with SPD deserve advocacy. Since I am an adult with SPD, I will do the advocating!


His argument:

“Many children with autism have “sensory issues” such as oversensitivity to touch. Similar symptoms occur with other neurodevelopmental and behavioral problems (including attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder) and anxiety disorders. However, the prevailing medical view is that “sensory symptoms” are a nonspecific indicator of neurodevelopmental immaturity rather than a distinct disorder. Such symptoms can also occur in children considered normal.”

My argument:

Yes, many children with autism do have sensory issues, as do children with various other neurological disorders. And yes, sensory issues can come about throughout early childhood as the brain is still developing and growing, and this is totally normal.

But, when children are struggling for long periods of time with basic sensory-related acts, it’s time to question whether or not that child is neurologically immature, or if there’s an actual problem with the child’s neurology that needs fixing.


His argument:

“Moreover, except in cases of autism, these sensory symptoms are virtually always outgrown. Do you know of any non-autistic adults with the type of “sensory problems” said to occur in SID? I work in the largest neurology group in my state. Although we see every conceivable neurological complaint, I have yet to hear from my colleagues of even one case of “SID” in an adult. In my experience, children who had been diagnosed with “SID” were overly anxious and come from a family that includes others who suffer from an anxiety disorder.”

My argument:

First thing’s first. Ok, I’ll admit it: those of us with SPD are usually very anxious people. But why are we so anxious? Oh yes, it’s because our sensory difficulties make ordinary life tasks difficult and anxiety producing. I know for myself, anxiety and sensory issues are two separate things, but SPD can make my anxiety worse, and anxiety can make my SPD worse. However, I rarely confuse the two – or smush them together as one – because their symptoms manifest very differently.

Second, just because you haven’t personally met an adult with a sensory disorder does not mean that these people do not exist. I’m telling you – there are thousands of adults with SPD, many of us are living with no diagnosis for various reasons. Some of us struggle so immensely with our SPD that we cannot live normal lives. Thanks to the internet, many adults have reached out for help and found support. They are startled to find that their symptoms are shockingly similar – not just regarding anxiety, but symptoms such as extremely poor coordination, or severe distress around bright lights, or the inability to wear certain fabrics, or feeling ill around certain odors. These people are not autistic, yet they suffer from severe sensory issues.

hello hi im here


His argument:

“Since few (if any) adult patients have SID, it is reasonable to question whether costly interventions are really necessary for what are most likely self-limiting problems of neurodevelopmental immaturity and anxiety.”

My argument:

Am I “neurodevelopmentally immature?” Gee, I hope not. I like to think of myself as “neurodevelopmentally unique or divergent.” The different wording makes it sound less like I’m to blame for my own neurological problems, and it gives me more hope that I can manage my life better.

Costly research and interventions have helped change the lives of millions of people with neurological disorders. Without research and treatment exploration, people living with conditions such as autism, epilepsy, PTSD and other disorders of the brain would still be receiving inappropriate treatment, or none at all.  Some of these conditions were completely misunderstood and stigmatized until science  – and humanity – caught up. I want the same to be said for Sensory Processing Disorder.

Here is a link to a recent study that found quantifiable differences in the brain structure of children with Sensory Processing Disorder. This is the first time science has found biological evidence of SPD:

Breakthrough Study Reveals Biological Basis for Sensory Processing Disorders in Kids


His bottomline:

“Most children develop and improve their behavior spontaneously. Since few (if any) adult patients have SID, it is reasonable to question whether costly interventions are really necessary for what are most likely self-limiting problems of neurodevelopmental immaturity and anxiety. Well-designed scientific studies are needed to determine whether or not SID is a definable disorder, and even if so, whether the treatments currently prescribed are effective or necessary. Until studies along these lines are conducted, the diagnosis of SID should prompt a healthy degree of skepticism. Working with a friendly and relaxed therapist can be calming to children. I believe that families with children with behavioral or anxiety disorders would be better off getting standard treatment than investing time and money in unproven approaches.”

My bottomline:

Don’t rush into investing time and money on treating sensory issues before you truly know if sensory issues are the problem. Anxiety treatment is not the same as sensory treatment, but treating anxiety can help a person with sensory issues. Visit an Occupational Therapist to see if what you’re experiencing is SPD or something else. It’s rarely a good idea to self-diagnose and treat. An OT will be able to provide a diagnosis and treatment plan specifically designed to help sort out sensory issues.

Most importantly, adults with Sensory Processing Disorder do exist, and SPD is definitely not a dubious diagnosis.


Here is the link to the article by Mr. Heilbroner if you wish to read it in full:

What are your thoughts on this topic?