Big Steps

As they say, "normal" is just a definition in the dictionary. I learned this the hard way over ten years ago.

I have sensory processing disorder (also known as sensory integration disorder). I have (knowingly) suffered from an unknown problem since I was 10 years old, and only at the age of 19 did I learn that my condition had a name, and I am not alone.

I have felt alone, ostracized, and judged for 13 years because of my condition. Even supposed friends I had had no comprehension of what I was dealing with, even if they said they understood. No one can understand another's path without walking in their shoes, and sometimes, that just isn't possible. No one I know has walked in my shoes, and only my mother tried to see if she could try them on.

After 2 years of major anxiety disorder and depression, I am finally making a little progress. No one in my life seems to realize that "some progress" does not mean I am "better." I will NEVER be better. My life will improve if I continue my program of treatment, but I will never be "normal." I have accepted that. I am currently seeking out individuals who share my condition, so that I may have some support, and I shall see how that goes.

Adult SPD is trivilialized and disregarded by the medical community because most believe it is a pediatric disorder. That is not true. If it were, I would be a productive and successful member of society by now. I know I'm talented, but my sensitivities obstruct my ability to acquire full-time employment. I graduated with a BFA a year ago, and am still unemployed, mostly due to my inablilty to tolerate a common work environment.

I intend to fill this blog with information about adult SPD, and my experiences dealing with it. Another post will follow soon, but for now, I do have one short story. And I believe I should start at the beginning.

I knew I was different when I was ten years old. I went to a private Catholic school K-5, and there was only one class per grade. I was in fifth grade, ready to move on to public middle school, when I started to notice something about myself that my classmates did not share. While there were only 10 kids in my class, it just takes one to make a difference. His name was James. He sniffled. Loudly, and frequently. I would politely ask him to desist. Instead, he mocked me. He sniffled whenver possible just to irritate me. While I know that 10 year old boys have a much different mentality than my own, even then, it really frustrated me. I learned over the years not to ask people to stop whatever was bothering me, because verbal abuse generally followed my request. Given the choice of fight or flight, I generally chose flight, because it did not involve detention or suspension. I did slap someone once for slurping their coffee loudly, but as I gave him fair warning of my reaction, I felt it reasonable, at the time (I was definitely a little drunk at that particular diner).

I intend to post regularly, with bits of my own personal past, and with updates on my current condition. I hope that people reading this are at the very least sympathetic to an involuntary neurological condition, and at best, perhaps I will have some followers who also deal with SPD in their daily lives. I would also hope that family members and friends of those suffering from SPD might read, to increase their understanding and empathy. I know that no one can walk in another's shoes, and I know that my condition has been hardest on my family. My mom, dad, brother, and best friend have been nothing but supportive, and if I believed in God, I would be singing his praises; as it is, I count my blessings every day, and hope that this is recognized as a real disorder, with proper treatment recommendations, before I die.