Archives for posts with tag: misophonia cure

In responding to a recent comment from a parent of a teen with miso, I started to think about what I do to deal with misophonia symptoms – what works, what doesn’t, and what seems to make symptoms worse.

The most helpful things for me have been the things that I should be doing anyway to feel good.

  • exercise (a LOT, every day if possible – yoga seems to be especially helpful for miso)
  • get plenty of sleep (if I’m tired symptoms are instantly 10x worse)
  • eat well (sugar is the enemy, as is booze the morning after)
  • meditate (I try to do at least a few minutes, three times per day)
  • stay really, really present when triggers occur

The last item on the list – staying present – is the hardest and the most important.

So what do I mean by staying present?

I try my best to watch the thoughts and feelings that come up when I’m triggered so I’m not completely taken over by them. If I can take a step back and watch myself being triggered, I stay separated from the anger, the rage, the irritation. The feelings then exist within me, but they don’t define me.

I’ve learned to let myself be uncomfortable. When misophonia symptoms occur at a low level, they are pure discomfort. In the West, we’re conditioned to hightail it away from discomfort the second it appears. We’re taught that we should never be uncomfortable. No wonder miso is so torturous for us, it is discomfort incarnate!

Since traveling in Asia I’ve learned to accept a lot of discomforts, including being triggered more often. Slurpy noodles abound in Vietnam, where it is perfectly acceptable, even encouraged, to chew with one’s mouth open and smack one’s lips in contentment throughout the meal. Thumping bass is pumped throughout cities and towns at all hours of the day and night – there is no escaping it, even in the middle of nowhere in a remote, “quiet” village.

So I’m very uncomfortable a lot of the time. I have my headphones in a lot of the time. And my prayer has changed from “please stop the music” to “please bless me with acceptance.”

Because we can never stop the noise of the world. We can’t change how other people behave, no matter how strongly believe they should be quiet, they should be more considerate, they should chew with their mouths closed.

The fact is that they don’t. So our only hope is to change ourselves, to change how we perceive the situation and the sounds.

But the question remains – how do we change our perspective? How do we accept what feels so totally unacceptable?

First, start to pay attention to your reactions when you’re triggered. What does it feel like in your body? Where do you feel it? How does it manifest? What thoughts start swirling around in your head?

The thoughts and feelings are connected, but it is the thoughts that must be excavated and examined – they hold the key to your healing.

I’ve found The Work of Bryon Katie to be really helpful in examining my thoughts and breaking them down. This work helps you question your beliefs and begin to unravel them in a way that brings understanding and relief. I’ve developed mantras based on this work that – while they sound crazy – have actually really, really helped prevent triggers (mantras along the lines of “I look forward to hearing thumping bass,” “I enjoy the noise of the world,” and “I am not separate from the noise of the world.”).

Finally, I’ve found that focusing the mind elsewhere really helps – I stopped participating in miso groups and rarely blog here because the more I focus on miso, the worse my symptoms get. So you might want to stop reading this blog right now!

It also helps to remind yourself that the trigger is temporary – in the moment it’s happening, it can feel like the sound will never end and you’ll be tortured forever. But sounds are transient. They are temporary. And so is your suffering.

 misophonia-on-tvGuest blogger Marty reminisces about the days when he could watch TV without misophonia triggers. 

Subliminal Seduction

by Marty

By my mid-twenties I figured out how to cope with various noises, and misophonia was becoming a small part of my life.  I didn’t watch much television, but there were a few shows that made me laugh and if I was home, I would watch The Waltons with my mother.

During a commercial, a corn cob appeared and moved toward the camera and then underneath the camera.  When it was out of site, the soundtrack became an unbelievably long, loud, and ugly chomp.  Then the corn cob reappeared with a bunch of mangled kernels so that there was no doubt about what the sound was supposed to represent.  I got up and left.

Why was I so shocked?  This is the first time I heard a trigger sound on TV.  It was 1972.  Up until then, watching TV was safe.  I worried that this might be a trend.  The next few months confirmed this.  We were treated to apples and potato chips being crunched.  There was no closed caption or mute switch then.  I moved and the TV stayed behind.

Four years later, I was given a book, Subliminal Seduction by Wilson Bryan Key.   It was about tricks used by the advertising industry to trick people into buying their product. It has since been criticized.  But what I found interesting was his insider account of the above incident.  The advertisers association did not approve the ad at first.  They were afraid that it was so disgusting that there would be a backlash, a public demand for regulation.  There was no backlash.  Then they green-lit all kinds of eating and chewing noises.

My question is: If we were always such a tiny minority, why were there no chewing sounds between the beginning of TV, around 1950, and 1972?

Rent some old movies.  See how rare the triggers are.  One of my favorite movies was the BBC’s House of Cards made in the 1990’s.  I don’t remember a single trigger.  This year, the American remake was released.  It was one trigger after another.  People always had something in their mouths when they were talking and you could hear them chew barbecue ribs.  Why?

misohponia-at-the-gymGuest blogger Marty reminisces about a personal hero who found strength in silence. Oh, and he sorta looked like this guy.

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My Friend Neil

by Marty

I first met Neil in 1975, back when there wasn’t even a concept of misophonia.  We didn’t seem to have much in common.  He played college football and I didn’t even know the names of the teams or the rules.  We couldn’t talk politics for 15 seconds without getting into an argument. All we initially had in common was that we worked out at the same gym at the same time.

I worked out hard because it calmed me down.  If I used up all my adrenaline, the triggers were manageable.  If I maxed on everything I was able to concentrate much better.  A bi-product of this was that I bulked up seriously, and if I lost it, I scared people. That is not always a good thing.

The problem is that gyms tend to be noisy places, so I would try to go at odd hours when they were empty.  That’s when Neil showed up.  I was afraid that he would bang the weights and I would end up leaving, but he actually worked out as quietly as I did.  If someone came with him, they also worked out quietly.

One day a typical tough guy came in and starting banging the machines, then he dropped the weights on the floor.  I was quickly gathering my stuff up to leave when Neil got in his face.  He told him how hard his behavior was on the equipment and flooring.  He then said something about “inconsiderate” and “takes more strength to be quiet than loud.” The tough guy left.

Did I mention that Neil was extremely muscular?

He was bulked up about as much as anyone in those pre-steroid days. This was repeated many times over the next 3 years.  He had the weight room quieter than the last library I was in.

Neil not only lectured people about violating “his space” but violating others space.  He seemed to be irritated by rapid motion in his peripheral vision.  One day I was dead lifting and a guy started jumping rope so that the rope was about a foot away from my head at the closest.  Neil made him move.

Then Neil and his wife moved into my girlfriend’s apartment building.  I hated her building.  Someone beneath her always turned his stereo on loud at just the wrong time at night and let the bass shake the floor.

In the morning, the apartment to her side turned the TV on really loud at just the wrong time.  Then something happened.  They turned their sound blasters on and then off in a few minutes.  I later found out that Neil was pounding on their doors.  In two weeks, that building was quiet.

Did I mention that Neil was very muscular?

Was Neil being self centered and selfish?  Or was he actually doing everyone a favor?

I miss the guy.  Every time I go to a gym and some young punk slams the weights, I think of him.

photo credit: topbodybuildingtips.tumblr.com

Read my Misophonia mind.

Every wonder what someone with Misophonia is thinking?

You know, besides the constant, unrelenting repetition of the Mother of all Misophonia Thoughts: “SHUT THE F&^! UP!!!!??”

Behold, the Misophoniac’s mind, revealed.

“I’m gonna puke. If he doesn’t stop chewing like that RIGHT NOW, I seriously think I’m gonna hurl.”

“Is that music? I think I can hear music. Where the fuck is that coming from?”

“I can’t move to San Francisco, what if the walls are thin in my new apartment?”

“I miss going to the movies.”

“Baseball bat. That’ll show him. Baseball bat to the FACE to swat that giant wad of bazooka out his FOUL mouth!” (Foul. Get it?)

“Ugh, how can she be chewing gum? That is so unattractive for a woman.”

“Ugh, how can he be chewing gum? That is so unattractive for a man.”

“How can they fucking be chewing gum when they KNOW how much it bothers me???????”

“That’s it. I have to move out of this place.”

“That’s it. I can’t work here anymore.”

“That’s it. I have to break up with him.”

“STOP. FUCKING. SNORING.”

“Thank God for headphones.”

“I’m gonna move somewhere REALLY far away, like in the middle of nowhere.”

“What does everyone have against silence?”

“NO I DON’T WANT ANY POPCORN AND NEITHER DO YOU.”

“I know I just said yes, but the thought of going to eat Mexican food surrounded by a symphony of tortilla chips makes me want to die.”

And the loneliest thought of all……

“How can that NOT BOTHER you?”

What Miso thoughts are rattlin’ around in your head?

photo credit: foxnews.com but don’t hold that against me

She hasn't taken these things off in years.

She hasn’t taken these things off in years.

Here are a few idiosyncratic (and totally neurotic) things I do throughout the day to prevent myself from being triggered.

1. Keep tunes at-the-ready

Enjoying a rare moment of silence or a break from your near-constant headphone usage? Make sure to pause Pandora (or whatever you’re listening to) so you can press play the second your neighbor or roommate comes home or things get noisy.

If I don’t have something queued and ready to go, the 3-5 second delay (opening your browser, waiting for the page to load) becomes an invitation to rage.

2. Pay Pandora

If you listen to the Pandora free station, you have to endure commercials. When the blasting sound suddenly drops out and a commercial starts, the resulting lack of noise makes offensive sounds easier to hear.

If I’m jamming to Adam Levine at top volume, I’m none-the-wiser that my downstairs neighbor is PLAYING GUITAR below me. But if a COMMERCIAL comes on, suddenly I can hear him through my headphones. Then, even when the music comes back on, I’m already triggered and it’s too late.

$3.95/month is a small price to pay for sanity.

3. Use Tiger Balm

Thank you so much to the person on the Yahoo group who recommended this to me – it’s been a life saver on airplanes!

Tiger Balm is sort of like Icy Hot, but smellier.  When I fly, I put a dab of the stuff practically inside each nostril. Now it’s not perfect, but it gives you about 90% protection from the nauseating smell of other people’s gum.

Make sure you keep the little jar within reach throughout the flight – people reach for the gum en masse during take off and landing (WHY?! GUM DOESN’T ACTUALLY HELP YOUR EARS POP, THAT’S JUST A MYTH!!!!)

4. Be passive aggressive

I’m a huge chicken shit, so instead of telling someone to please CHEW WITH YOUR MOUTH CLOSED YOU DISGUSTING ASSHOLE, I’ve found a pretty effective way to get my point across. I talk about other people.

The other day my friend picked me up from the airport – she’s a sporadic gum chewer, the unpredictable kind, and I spent half the flight worrying that she’d be chewing when she came to get me.

Sure enough, as soon as I opened the car door, a minty waft of agony invaded my nostrils.

I immediately launched into a diatribe about being stuck in front of a jerk on the plane who was chewing gum in my ear the entire time.

“Ugh, I had the worst flight. This asshole sitting behind me was chewing gum in my ear the entire time. It drives me absolutely crazy when people do that!”

“Oh wow, I guess I better not chew gum then” said my friend, half joking.

“Yeah, it really triggers me” I answered. “It’s this thing I have, it sucks.”

Now, she didn’t take her gum out (WHY ARE PEOPLE SO FUCKING INSENSITIVE?), but she did stop chewing and kind of hold it in her mouth while we drove. I remained uncomfortable but prevented a full-blown episode.

If you’re a chicken shit like me, this tactic has the potential to work wonders.

5. Noise-cancelling headphones

I highly recommend going into the store and trying some headphones out before dropping any scratch. This is because noise-cancelling headphones are kinda counterintuitive.

My pair from Sony were around $50 and work better than the more expensive $400 kind.

Get ’em here: http://store.sony.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/StoreSearch?storeId=10151&langId=-1&catalogId=10551&in_dim_search=&Ntk=&Ntx=&Nrt=&Nrr=&Nrk=&Nrm=&keyword=MDR-NC7

I don’t really understand the technology behind it – all I know is that the more expensive kind made it easier to hear certain sounds – like the low thumping bass (AAAAAH!) of the Black Eyed Peas song playing in the store.

Oh, and bless your soul if you can survive with mere ear buds, but I find that big fat headphones that surround the entire ear work much better.

How do you escape trigger terror?

photo: wallpaperpassion.com

Can you imagine wanting to cover your ears ALL DAY LONG?

Can you imagine wanting to cover your ears ALL DAY LONG?

5:30am.

I awaken to the sounds of my neighbor’s footsteps clomping on the floor above me.The fact that I can hear the sounds through my headphones, which are blasting white noise at full volume, sparks a massive wave of rage within me. It lasts through my shower, breakfast and commute to work, even though the sounds have long since stopped. I don’t begin to calm down until I’m miles away from the scene of the crime.

6:30am

It’s crucial that I leave the house before 8am, when my roommate wakes and begins playing the radio. If I were to stay – if I had the day off or wanted to sleep in – I would still be out the door in order to avoid the chance of hearing the radio through my bedroom wall. To me, the soft murmer of voices or muffled music through walls is most people’s equivalent to getting into a really bad car accident.

9:00am

I brace myself for the thud of bass music to assault my eardrums from the office next door. I plan my morning so that by the time the thumping begins, I will have conducted all of my conversations with my coworkers and boss, and be able to put my earphones in. I crank the volume up as far as it will go, being careful to choose not music I like, but music that will be the absolute loudest. No Jack Johnson for Misophoniacs, at least not when we’re out in the world.

11:00am

I can hear the music. I take my headphones out to be sure. Yes! I CAN HEAR THE FUCKING MUSIC THROUGH MY HEADPHONES!

11:01am

I storm out to the warehouse where the tunes are blasting. I rehearse everything I’m going to say to these inconsiderate MOTHERFUCKERS who don’t understand that SOME PEOPLE HAVE TO FUCKING CONCENTRATE at work.

Dear reader, remember: The triggered Miso mind is a petulant 4-year old child. There is no reasoning with it. It is not capable of empathy. All it can conceive of is making the offending noise STOP, and hating those poor souls who had the audacity to trigger its latent hate.

11:02am

I arrive at the offending area that houses the BEACON OF TRIGGERDOM, an old school boombox radio. The only person working there is a scary-looking girl that I’m pretty sure hates my guts.

She raises an eyebrow, as if to say “I DARE you to ask me to turn it down.”

I quiver, inhale…and puss out. We lock eyes, I turn on my heel, close to tears, and drag my sorry self back to my desk.

3:00pm

My co-workers favorite lunch is dry Ramen noodles eaten right out of the package. There are a few foods in this world that crunch more loudly than all others, and this is one of them. He takes his time too, drawing the torture out over a period of several hours. I can see his mealy little mouth working on the noodles like a neurotic hamster who hasn’t been fed in weeks.

PLEASE JUST FINISH ALREADY. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU.

5:36 pm

Home. My experience will be determined by who is home, including both neighbors and roommates. If my upstairs neighbors are home, my headphones must go in. If both roommates are home, I must leave because they will both be watching TV in their separate rooms, and I can’t stand to hear the sound of two televisions (or two anythings) playing at once.

Victory! Only one roommate home, and no neighbors.

7:30pm

We watch TV. I have a glass of wine. I am at peace, for a moment, until….

“Do you want some chips?”

NO! AND NEITHER DO YOU!! NO NO NO NO NO

He strolls toward the kitchen and returns with my arch-nemesis in tortilla form.

Dammit.

I can’t leave right away, it would be rude. I must endure at least five minutes of chip-chewing before making my exit. I hope I won’t still be able to hear him from my room….

11:00pm

Bedtime. The one time it seems to be acceptable to ask people to “turn it down.” Apparently, for normal folk, the only time of day for quiet silence is during slumber. The rest of their waking hours must be filled with NOISE NOISE NOISE.

The TV is blaring in the living room. I know the precise volume at which I won’t be able to hear it through my pillow-barriered door. (pillows stuffed under the door make great noise absorbers, fyi).

“Can you turn it down a little?”

As if it were no big deal.

“Sure, no prob!” my roommate grins. I wonder if he plans on turning it back up the second I leave.

11:21pm

I can hear the TV. Or can I? I remove my earphones and listen in terror. I think I can hear it. Breathe. Breathe. Think of something else. Think about that guy from the bar. No, not him, the one with the green eyes. He was really….I CAN HEAR IT! I CAN HEART IT! I WILL NEVER GET TO SLEEP! DON’T THEY UNDERSTAND THAT SOME PEOPLE HAVE TO WORK IN THE MORNING? I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM…..

5:30am.

I awaken to the sounds of my neighbor’s footsteps clomping on the floor above me.

photo credit: benreed.net

Are we really just a bunch of jerks?

Is it possible that people who suffer from Misophonia or 4S are just sort of dicks? People who are easily irritated and take it out on whoever happens to be around them? Humongous, self-absorbed over-reactors who have the audacity to think the world should shut the f&5! up just for them?

I’m going to argue no.

And while I may be biased (I have it, live it, love it. Wait. Scratch that last part), I hope you’ll allow me a few rebuttals to the above arguments, as seemingly accurate as they may appear at first glance.

I have never met, spoken with, or heard of anyone with Misophonia who didn’t harbor a ton of guilt surrounding their condition. We feel bad about it because we KNOW that the offending parties pissing us off are utterly clueless. We REALIZE that to most people, the trigger or offending sound is completely inconsequential, and we honor the right of humans everywhere to chew gum, relish foods that CRUNCH, speak languages that contain the letter S, and snore the night away unencumbered.

We feel bad that we feel bad. We feel so bad that a lot of us will never even say anything to you about it, but suffer in silence until the offending noise is so unbearable that we have to leave or we’ll scream.

And while some people with 4S may indeed be assholes, I don’t think it’s their 4S that makes them assholes. 4S, or Misophonia, is beyond reason. It makes no sense. There’s no logic to it, at least that I can see. Psychological projection runs rampant in our daily lives. We may snub someone because they subconcsiously remind us of our father or our ex-boyfriend, or treat someone rudely because they unknowingly say something that hits a nerve.

Misophonia is different. It’s not Us vs. Normal People so much as it is Us vs. Sounds.

When and if we act like assholes, fly off the handle, or insist on getting a separate hotel room in the middle of the night because you’re snoring and I can’t fucking take it – even then, it’s not YOU that we’re at war with. It’s the sounds, and it’s ourselves.

Poor normal people. It’s so difficult for them to believe that it really is the POPCORN that’s upsetting us. How many significant others have assumed your fury is a sign of something deeply amiss within the relationship?

“No, really, I’m not mad at you, it really is just the fucking popcorn!”

It’s hard to believe that such fury, such rage could be the result of such a normal, human, unobtrusive sound.

For some reason – and I sincerely hope that in my lifetime we find a reason – these sounds are obtrusive to us. They’re more than obtrusive, they’re torturous.

I guess my plea, to those lucky souls out there who don’t have to deal with this madness, is to try, if you can, to be slightly more conscientious. To eat, and breathe, and sleep, and live consciously. Conscious of other people, and other people’s sensitivities. I hope this isn’t too much too ask.

Everyone deserves the right to live free and be happy and at peace. But that goes for us, too.

I try to imagine how I would feel if someone told me “When you wear the color red, it makes me want to kill myself.”

Does that mean I should toss out my favorite red sweater? Of course not. I have a right to wear red. But I also want to contribute to a peaceful society, and if there is something easy that I can do to make someone’s life infinitely easier, I think I’d like to give it a shot.

Because here’s the thing – whether you’re chewing with your mouth open or cranking your music, it’s probably not SACRED to you. I’d wager that the habits that trigger people with Misophonia are, to Normal People, merely habits.  Thoughtless habits.  I’d also wager that it wouldn’t harm you in any way, or deduct from your quality of life, if you closed your mouth when you chewed. If you turned the music down or listened with headphones. It’s a small behavior change on your part that makes an INFINITE difference to us.

We’re working on it. We’re looking for answers. We’re learning to cope and to be more tolerant.  But in the mean time, while we do, would you consider trying to be a bit more considerate to those of us tormented by things you don’t even notice?

Besides, your life is going to be a helluva lot better once Misophonic strangers stop glaring you in airports (our wrath is potent and poisonous, and if a strange woman has ever given you the death stare for no reason that you could fathom, it was me, and it was because you were chewing gum with your mouth open).

xo

Rebekah

 

Warning! If S sounds bother you, skip the video and read on below. Same content, different format!

Thou shalt not pop corn.

Can’t we just leave corn in its natural state as God intended?

My heart is beating like I just finished a marathon in under three hours. I’m starting to sweat, and it feels impossible to take one of the slow, deep breaths common sense insists upon when feelings of panic begin to surge. Every cell in my body is on high alert, and a hot, sweeping rage ignites my senses in a sickening frenzy.

I must get out of here. If I don’t leave now I will die.

But I’m not in a dark alley being mugged at gunpoint.

I haven’t run into my ex at the grocery store in sweatpants with no makeup on.

I’m not even in my boss’s office being accused of having sex with the copy guy in the supply closet (it wasn’t me Gary, I swear! It was that chick in marketing!)

I am standing in the kitchen of my second story flat on a Friday afternoon. I am completely safe. I am alone.

So what’s the cause of such an extreme state of panic, fear and rage?

My downstairs neighbor is playing music. And I can hear it.

That’s it. The thumping bass of a hip hop tune penetrating the thin floor boards is enough to move me to tears.

Let me just say that I love music, and I grew up on hip hop. Gimme some Outkast or A Tribe Called Quest and I’m one happy camper. The problem isn’t the music, or the type of music, or the fact that I can hear the music. If the music were playing in my apartment, or if everyone’s doors were open and I could hear it playing fully, I would be absolutely fine. I’d probably ask them to turn it up.

But if the music is muffled and is coming through the wall, I am instantly infuriated. I once had a therapist tell me this is because I feel violated by the sound; I haven’t “left the door open,” so to speak, and given my permission for those sounds to enter my space. The music is essentially ear-raping me because I’m not in control of it.

I’m not sure what I think of her theory. I guess it makes sense, but why does this reaction only occur with particular sounds? That’s what is so strange about Misophonia. It’s so specific.

Baby crying on the airplane? No problem. I could listen all day.

Nails on a chalkboard? Sure.

Loud-ass construction going on right outside my door? I could probably sleep right through it.

But the dull, intermittent voices of a television being played in the next room, or the soft sound of my neighbor strumming his guitar in the flat below? Double forks in the eyes!

It doesn’t make sense. You would think that the louder the noise, the more bothersome, but it’s just not the case. That’s why Misophonia is also referred to as “Selective Sound Sensitivity Disorder” or “Soft Sound Sensitivity Disorder.” Only certain sounds, most of which aren’t loud at all, enrage us.

The spooky thing is that it’s not like everyone with 4S has their own particular set of triggers; most of us share the SAME triggers, to greater or lesser degrees. What on earth does gum chewing have to do with the sounds made while eating popcorn? They are completely different sounds!! What does popcorn have to do with bass thumping or the sound of  a wave machine? All three things drive me batty but I can’t for the life of me figure out a connection. Why those sounds, and not others?

As I’ve gotten older, the Miso has morphed from being very food-centric to being more about music/radio/tv through walls. I don’t know if this is good or bad. I can share a meal with anyone, and eating in a Mexican restaurant is usually bearable. I can even go to a movie (but may end up changing seats several time if I get popcorn jerks right behind me). But living within 30 miles of other humans is always challenging.

What is your biggest trigger and how do you cope with it?

Shhhhhhhhhhh

Shhhhhhhhhhh!

Upon learning about the upcoming first-ever Misophonia conference that’s taking place next month in Phoenix, and after considering actually attending the dang thing, my first thought was not about how much I’d learn, or the people I’d meet, or the possibility of finding a cure through a joining of like-minded professionals.

My first thought was “I wonder if people there will be chewing gum.”

My second thought was “How could anyone attending a Misophonia conference have the audacity to chew gum? Why haven’t they created a rule about this?! What if someone attending the conference doesn’t even have Misophonia, and is just there to learn about it, and has no idea how we feel about gum, and sits down behind me and starts smacking away like a cow chewing its cud?”

After the gum worries subsided (there must be a rule against it….right?), I began to worry about the hotel room.

What if the rooms have really thin walls? What if the person next to me listens to the TV at an intermediate volume and I can hear their TV through my wall? What if, even worse, they’re the type of person who LEAVES THE TV ON ALL NIGHT? WHAT IF I CAN’T SLEEP AT ALL AND I CALL THE FRONT DESK AND THEY DETERMINE THE TELEVISION TO BE PLAYING AT A REASONABLE VOLUME (WHICH IT TOTALLY IS) AND I WANT TO FUCKING KILL MYSELF?

I’m totally going to the conference, by the way.

That’s because the above reaction is so completely normal to me by now that it feels like dealing with a hangnail, or a nasty case of Athlete’s Foot. The thoughts and fears are merely inconvenient: it’s the actual “episodes” that fucking suck.

I am a very peaceful person, in general. I am decidedly non-confrontational, and go out of my way to avoid conflict. I’m the kind of girl that will probably keep having sex with you even if it’s really bad or I’m really bored, just because I don’t want to hurt your feelings (sometimes I feel like women like me are the only reason the human race has survived this long).

But when I get triggered – people chewing gum, the crackle of tortilla chips in a Mexican restaurant, popcorn at the movie theatre, the sound of thumping bass through my apartment wall – a murderous rage grows within me. It is so powerful, so potent, that sometimes I fear I might actually reach over and physically RIP the gum out of the offending party’s mouth.

If you are chewing gum, I fucking hate you. I don’t mean I actually hate you, I’m sure you’re a lovely person and everything, but in that moment I first see or hear you chewing gum, I want to both die and murder you at the same time.

I know you don’t even know you’re doing it, but you are TORTURING ME. It’d be the equivalent of me taking a shit, smearing it on your face and forcing you to eat it. I am THAT disgusted by the sight, sound, and smell of your gum. Isn’t that crazy? Um. Yeah. It is. That’s why there’s a conference.

(But seriously, can’t you just have a fucking mint and be done with it? Do you know who chews all day long and never stops? COWS.)

Misophonia or “4S” isn’t just “being irritable” or having a super-strange combination of pet peeves.

Pet peeves, dear reader, are born of the appropriate distaste you feel when someone uses the word “bro” or takes Twitter seriously or talks about the celebrities they’ve met.

Pet peeves are tiny, evil elves pinching you before running away giggling.

Misophonia is a giant dragon with really bad breath who must either be slain or run from as frantically as possible. So far, my only coping mechanism has been the frantic running (or walking really fast while steam escapes my ears like Foghorn Leghorn).

A lot of people seem to be interested in finding the cause of this condition. At this point, I don’t particularly care what caused it, I just want it to stop. It impacts nearly every area of my life. It affects where I can and cannot live, who I can date, how I interact with family and friends, and how I go about my day. I am a total slave to it, and my master is a bitch.