http://www.thinkingautismguide.com/2019/01/the-world-is-such-loud-place-and-it.html
This is a descriptive account by an autistic person who suffers sound sensitivity, like I do. I think most days she has it worse than I do, or perhaps I'm merely more fortunate to have a quieter place to live than she does. Still, every sound or audio experience she lists, I've suffered from repeatedly.
Have you ever stopped in the middle of a relatively quiet room and just tried to identify all the sounds you can hear? Or just do that in a more crowded area and see how many you can identify or isolate. It might surprise you how many things your brain tunes out, automatically, because that's what it's supposed to do.
I am very fortunate. I work in my basement, and my basement is quite quiet in the winter. Without the ducks and geese outside, the only sources of noise are my computer's fans, the clacking of my keyboard as I type, the hum of the heating system, the hum of a USB charger, the hum/clicking of the timer for the lamp behind me, the creaking of the house itself, and occasionally the wind. (Also any notification sounds from instant messaging systems like Gtalk, but I often have those routed through unworn headphones.)
By comparison, an average coffee shop will have several conversations going, the clatter of dishes and machinery behind the counter, the beeping of timers set to aid the baristas in making the hot drinks, the music played over the speakers, the screech of chairs and tables being moved, the sound of the door being opened and closed, the clacking of at least one other keyboard, the notifications of other peoples' phones, the crinkle and rustle of food wrappers or cup lids being handled, the occasional slurping or sipping noise from someone drinking their hot beverage... this list could go on.
Do you think about this sort of thing, or even notice much of it? I do. It's not a good thing. I am extremely distractible, and I hate it. I took care of a pet parrot for some friends last week, and I had to move the parrot's cage to the second bedroom to keep from getting frustrated and angry. This parrot is extremely quiet, barely vocal at all (Pionus parrots are like that), but even the sounds of her climbing around her cage were too much distraction for me to work. Fortunately I was still able to keep the parrot company sufficiently so she didn't get sad and lonely.
I sympathize thoroughly with the author regarding fire alarms, by the way. As far as I'm concerned all fire alarms were imported directly from hell. They make me wish myself dead every second I'm anywhere near them. I am so very grateful to be out of school, because now the only fire alarm I have to worry about is the one in my home.
For a while, my spouse and I had ambitions of sound-proofing the small bedroom so I could use it to decompress. Fortunately, that hasn't proved necessary due to the comparative differences between the apartment complex and our house. The latter is exponentially quieter, even though it does creak a remarkable amount.
This is a descriptive account by an autistic person who suffers sound sensitivity, like I do. I think most days she has it worse than I do, or perhaps I'm merely more fortunate to have a quieter place to live than she does. Still, every sound or audio experience she lists, I've suffered from repeatedly.
Have you ever stopped in the middle of a relatively quiet room and just tried to identify all the sounds you can hear? Or just do that in a more crowded area and see how many you can identify or isolate. It might surprise you how many things your brain tunes out, automatically, because that's what it's supposed to do.
I am very fortunate. I work in my basement, and my basement is quite quiet in the winter. Without the ducks and geese outside, the only sources of noise are my computer's fans, the clacking of my keyboard as I type, the hum of the heating system, the hum of a USB charger, the hum/clicking of the timer for the lamp behind me, the creaking of the house itself, and occasionally the wind. (Also any notification sounds from instant messaging systems like Gtalk, but I often have those routed through unworn headphones.)
By comparison, an average coffee shop will have several conversations going, the clatter of dishes and machinery behind the counter, the beeping of timers set to aid the baristas in making the hot drinks, the music played over the speakers, the screech of chairs and tables being moved, the sound of the door being opened and closed, the clacking of at least one other keyboard, the notifications of other peoples' phones, the crinkle and rustle of food wrappers or cup lids being handled, the occasional slurping or sipping noise from someone drinking their hot beverage... this list could go on.
Do you think about this sort of thing, or even notice much of it? I do. It's not a good thing. I am extremely distractible, and I hate it. I took care of a pet parrot for some friends last week, and I had to move the parrot's cage to the second bedroom to keep from getting frustrated and angry. This parrot is extremely quiet, barely vocal at all (Pionus parrots are like that), but even the sounds of her climbing around her cage were too much distraction for me to work. Fortunately I was still able to keep the parrot company sufficiently so she didn't get sad and lonely.
I sympathize thoroughly with the author regarding fire alarms, by the way. As far as I'm concerned all fire alarms were imported directly from hell. They make me wish myself dead every second I'm anywhere near them. I am so very grateful to be out of school, because now the only fire alarm I have to worry about is the one in my home.
For a while, my spouse and I had ambitions of sound-proofing the small bedroom so I could use it to decompress. Fortunately, that hasn't proved necessary due to the comparative differences between the apartment complex and our house. The latter is exponentially quieter, even though it does creak a remarkable amount.
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