THE FULL BUCKET

Dear Persons,

 I’ve seen a bucket metaphor here and there, used in different ways, across neurodiverse  communities. I recently shared it, in its OVERLOAD/OVERWHELM form (there’s also a form that’s related to goodness, happiness, and loving/kind acts), with Full Spectrum Grandmother, who found it very useful, so I thought I would share it here, too. It’s by no means original with me, but it’s been super-helpful in a variety of contexts.

When your SENSORY (as always, I include emotions and other mental states here as well, as feelings) BUCKET is full, you feel on edge, about to spill over.

You can’t take on more (tasks, responsibilities, activities), or even take in more (information, stimulus, social cues) effectively; in fact, more, in just about any form – even positive – is simply too much.

I think of my toughest years in graduate school, when I was reading super-dense materials at all times – and reading trashy mysteries the rest of the time. I didn’t have the brain space for anything more demanding.

Now that I have a family and work, my bucket is more Full than ever. One of the top bucket fillers is my smartphone! Back in the day, emails and phone calls were limited to very particular times, and texting didn’t even exist. Now we are on – and presumably accessible -  24/7. Dealing with “special needs” bureaucracy, family and personal health issues, finances, running a household, and teaching a high needs population at the community college where students face huge challenges every day just to get an education...I know you all have your lists, but that’s mine: what fills, and sometimes – often - overfills, my bucket.

This is important: it’s not just hard, bad, or stressful stuff that fills your SENSORY BUCKET – it’s anything that’s stimulating and absorbs (rather than rebuilds) your energy. This holds especially true for people with SPD (sensory processing differences). For me, these positive, yet absorbing bucket fillers include great times with my children and Pardner, cultural outings, fascinating classroom discussions, travel...

It’s genuinely helpful to be aware that my SENSORY BUCKET gets Full, and to have a visual for this concept, because when my bucket is Full I tend to feel hopeless, desperate. I melt down internally, by feeling useless and getting profoundly overwhelmed and unsure how to do the next thing, and the next...

I know what I need to make room in my bucket: long walks, yoga practice, lengthy bouts of gardening, meditation practice, reading time, creative time, above all, time alone. Oh! And regular (weekly? {monthly?? [yearly???]} massages! Haha.

But let’s look at a more realistic scenario: my son G. G tends to shut down when his bucket is Full. This is his own expression of meltdown. He will stop listening, stop getting anything done, retreat. After a very Full day of school and activities, my sensory-sensitive son needs, from what I can see: extended time alone sorting through his Pokemon cards, And he gets it. And it really soothes and balances him, makes room in his SENSORY BUCKET for the next day’s interactions and experiences.

People with sensory challenges often need to rest their brains.  We also need to feed our hearts and souls. What do you and/or your loved ones need to create room in your SENSORY BUCKETS? Are there little things you can do, step by step?

For example, realizing that every day I would tell myself I would practice yoga at home before school pickup “after I got everything done,” and that every day I would never be left with any time to do so, I have just started (on the days when that’s possible) taking a quick walk after school drop-off when I get to wherever I will be for that day - before I “get everything done.” It’s not yoga, it’s improvised...yet that little bit of self-care makes a bit more room in my bucket so the “everything” seems more manageable. A week or so of these walks has created enough spaciousness to enable me to write and draw this post – which would not have been possible last week, trust me!

What can YOU do for yourself and/or your loved one(s)? A breath? A break? A tiny shift or change? Recognizing and acknowledging a Full SENSORY BUCKET is a great first step!

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

 

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

An InLinkz Link-up

IS IT SHOWING?

Dear Persons,

In IS IT TOUCHING?, I explored how the traditional view of sensitivity is limited --and somewhat discriminatory toward highly sensitive people and people with sensory processing differences (SPD).  I meant to put forth the idea that the way we perceive and process things should be recognized as a sort of neurological/physical/emotional/temperamental spectrum. Simply put, we have widely divergent levels of physical and emotional sensitivity. Furthermore, as self-advocates and advocates for our children and loved ones, it is up to us to decide whether our sensory (I include emotions as feelings here) processing differences are problematic, or glorious, or both, or neither...

This post was one of my most-read ever, and elicited many responses, both public and private.

One interesting theme that emerged from these conversations was that of EXPRESSION. I heard from people who have incredibly strong sensory and/or emotional feelings – but hardly express them at all. And I heard from people who feel they are “all over the place” in a sort of hot mess way and want to calm their actions, reactions and attitudes down (here is where some calming sensory activities might come in handy!). I heard from parents with super-sensitive, expressive children whom they are trying to understand...In short, it emerged that what we show (in those actions, reactions, and attitudes) is not just an exact reflection of what we feel.

So, this month, I’d like to bring your attention to the possibility that sensitivity does not correlate directly or evenly with expression or external reactivity. Some people develop coping mechanisms to hamper their reactions because of cultural or familial pressures. Some are naturally less expressive. Some people stuff their feelings. Others let it all hang out, sometimes in spades – intentionally, or because they cannot suppress the expression of their reactions.

Another manifestation of the sensitivity/expression interplay may be seen in those of us with sensory processing differences where certain stimuli that might seem minor to others (tags on clothing, bright lights, strong tastes or textures in food, temperature variations...) are interpreted by the brain as major. This may then result, expression-wise, in sensory overload or “acting out” or “shutting down” or...

At the extremes, you get people who may appear histrionic – your drama kings and queens who scream when stepping into a puddle of water (guilty) or a person gives them side eye; or your heartless stoics, who don’t even flinch when a finger is cut off or a loved one dies.

Notably, the histrionics and the stoicism may reflect/express SIMILAR levels of sensitivity, exteriorized in different ways. What we are experiencing inside is not always expressed in ways that exactly match our inner experience of intensity. People can be low on the sensitivity scale, but high on the expression scale; or they may feel deeply, yet not be expressive of that externally...

We may feel or express less – the proverbial “stone;” we may feel or express more, experiencing or acting explosively, like “fireworks.” These two things – what we feel and what we show - don’t usually occur in a matchy-matchy fashion.

What’s more, sensitivity itself can be emotional, physical, neurological...; while expression can be through actions, words, attitudes, moods...AND, as this scale shows, these factors can intersect in a Full Spectrum of ways!

Figure I – Showing Chart: Sensitivity and Expression: Stone to Fireworks, Squared

In addition, our attempts to modulate our expression are not always in line with our intentions.

As I wrote in IS IT TOUCHING?, I am a total sap and literally – embarrassingly! -  unable to not cry under a variety of circumstances, from funerals and other clearly sad occasions to anything touching (try this for a tear test), sentimental, or even joyous.

On the other hand, things that move me powerfully but are hurtful, complicated, or angering can overwhelm me and cause me to shut down and seem withdrawn or even cause a meltdown (internally!). And I am just one feeling/expressing person, a fraction of my Full Spectrum family. I am still trying to figure out my son, who sometimes can appear extremely insensitive as a reaction to sensory overload; my daughter, who seems impervious to all but a very few extremely, tremendously sensitive areas; and Pardner, who has the rare gift of being sensitive but non-reactive, observant and caring, yet as steady as can be. But Pardner has his areas of sensitivity, too: do not put your bike up against his car, nor, if you are a child with potential child gore on your hands, or a hairy cat in your arms, should you “touch the threads.”

So, finally, our sensitivities and expressions thereof can also vary from experience to experience, with different situations being more or less

Manageable/controllable,

moving/touching/intense,

and/or expressed

!

In the neurodiverse world, terms like “over-responder” and “under-responder” get thrown around, as if there is a mean level of response that is correct. Add on different ideas about social cues and behavior, reactions that may be judged “inappropriate,” or “unexpected”...Whew. I’m looking to expand our perspective on what’s a natural part of the range of human being, not criticize people. Human sensitivity and expression weave together in diverse, complex and fascinating ways, in a dynamic matrix represented here by a spectrum from stones to fireworks.  

What holds for all of us is that we want to be our healthiest selves. We have the privilege and responsibility of figuring out what that means - for our children, for ourselves, for our communities.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

 

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

An InLinkz Link-up

EXCUSES, EXCUSES…

Dear Readers,

The Full Spectrums are moving. Given that we are a gang with a lot of feelings, a lot of stuff (where did it all come from????), and sensory and behavioral differences, there is PLENTY of “writing material” here. However, time to actually write is nonexistent, not to mention my pronounced lack of the necessary mental and physical energy for anything beyond the basics of mothering, my work, and moving.

Please bear with me while I post much, much less than I would like…

In just over a week, I will be publishing a Sensory Blog Hope post about face-blindness.

After that, as soon as possible, I will be writing my next Third Anniversary Post, “Choosing Your Battles.”

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

THE HEAT PLUS THE FEELING

After reading my last Sensory Blog Hop post, Whistle Nose, our friend Noodle Ayi (Auntie Noodle) talked about how part of having a hard time naming and interpreting emotions (Alexithymia) is also related to not knowing how emotions feel in our bodies.

Huh? Hadn’t even thought about that! For the Full Spectrums who are on the Autism end of our spectrum, both of whom have Sensory Processing Differences, knowing how an emotion feels in our body AND having a feeling at the same time AND functioning will be a lifelong project.

Here’s a recent example: G’s Graduation from 6^th Grade, about which I’d been very apprehensive, primarily because I thought I would humiliate him with my sentimental sobbing. What actually happened was VERY Sensory, but also unexpected.

G cried, ceaselessly through his entire graduation ceremony. Big blubbery tears, shaking, trying to stop, humiliated, heaving, producing copious liquid from nose and eyes.…on the stage.

Figure I- G: SPD/ASD Child: 

Heat Plus Feelings (Crying) Equals Full Brain

To stop crying would have taken some extra capacity he simply did not have, what with the Heat and the Crying/Feelings.

Z – our resident Neurotypical, who’s also on the no-nonsense end of the spectrum -- asked, repeatedly, “Why is he crying?” Not so much with scorn but sheer bewilderment.

I didn’t cry at all.

Figure II – FSM: SPD/ASD Mother: Heat Plus Feelings (Psychicly Messaging G to Try to Stop Crying Plus, Especially, to Stop Overtly Wiping Giant Gobs of Snot on His Arm) Equals Full Brain

To cry would have taken some extra capacity I just didn’t have, what with the Heat and the Sweetie-Can-You-Stop Feelings. 

All my energy was channeled into trying to get him to calm down and breathe – complete with “useful” facial cues – and to stop, just - PLEASE, for your own sake son! -- with the snot.

So many adults came up to me afterwards and said how touching his crying was, one spoke of his “pure heart,” but I know he felt terrible. It couldn’t have been a big status-builder with his peers.

G’s an old sap from a long line of softhearted saps, and this event was overwhelming on a myriad of levels. Being hyper-empathetic, I think he was feeling and expressing what so many in that room were feeling and not expressing. And it was a huge year for him, finally feeling like he belonged, in unprecedented ways.

Most of all, the heat in that room was so overwhelming that for both of us it was almost impossible to function. I am sure it was awful for everybody, no question, but with Sensory Processing Differences the brain simply cannot prioritize in the “normal” way.

Heat plus another thing? That is IT.

Then G got REALLY SICK. Fever, nausea…I think the latter might have had to do with his eating four desserts during the “refreshments” part, but I genuinely think the fever was his feelings in his body. This scared me, because I, too, get my feelings in my body – and I ended up with rheumatoid arthritis, one of the few diseases known by western, mainstream medicine to be in many cases the result of trauma.

In these ways SPD is so closely linked to our emotions. If we can better process our feelings, we will be exponentially healthier – body and mind.

But if you take even just this one little scenario, Heat plus Tears or Not-Tears were maximum-capacity situations for us. Noodle Ayi’s sage thoughts around figuring out how emotions feel in our bodies were one order above where we sat, blubbering and not blubbering, in that hot room.

There was no

“how does my body feel right now?”

never mind

“what is this emotion my body is feeling?”

never, never mind

“I am feeling this way, which represents…”

For some people with Sensory Processing Differences, even ONE of those factors might be enough, as in: Heat = Full Brain = Go Home, or Big Feeling = Full Brain = Tantrum.

So you can see where it might be nice to have strategies to manage all sorts of scenarios involving, oh, life. It could be extremely helpful to be able to use another tool to discern how we are feeling, from the way our bodies are feeling.

The first step for our Full Spectrum family, though, has been to acknowledge and begin to understand how we process experiences in ways we could not fathom before knowing we had Sensory Processing Differences.

I’m feeling….hopeful?

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

An InLinkz Link-up

PAIN – SQUARED

Parents who have children who were adopted from orphanages often have to ‘teach’ their children to acknowledge pain to themselves and to express pain to others. Although Z came into our family at only nine months of age, she had already learned not to react to her body being hurt, or to express hunger or thirst through a baby’s only language (tears).

Instead, she expressed herself primarily through screaming if being put down at any time. Once she found someone to hold her at length, a single person devoted only to her and her brother (to whom she was immediately attached as well), she was not about to be abandoned. This was particularly acute during her first weeks with her family, during which not only did she demand to be held at all times but also to be walked around while being held, resulting in SEVERE sleep deprivation for all concerned.

Arriving home, we embarked upon a plan. I had heard that children whose most basic needs for comfort have not been met may present a range of developmental and emotional challenges and I had bright ideas to “fix” some of these potential issues. Reacting to pain came first: a strategy of exaggerated response to any possible injury quickly taught Z that if something happened to her that potentially did not feel good, and there was someone nearby to help, she could get a response to her feelings and be the beneficiary of comfort measures, such as an ice pack or the proverbial band-aid.

To this day, though, Z doesn’t even blink an eye at pain when she thinks no one is looking! I have watched from the kitchen window as she has fallen – hard, or been accidently but vigorously wacked with something from afar by her clueless brother. She never makes a sound…or even a face. I wonder: did she somehow never develop some important aspect of the neurology to feel pain because of those early months of neglect? Is she just brave as heck? Does she feel the pain, but less?

G and I, being highly sensitive personages, have to work really hard not to scream when we, like, step on a stray drop of water (no - really), so this is definitely a germane question in the Full Spectrum family.

Whereas a casual hidden observer could probably catch G or I writhing privately in agony several times a day, I’d wager that observer would never see the same in Z. Z has learned that public expression of discomfort leads to results, but when there is nothing to “gain” by reacting, she seems to have decided not to waste her energy.

Similarly, she doesn’t seem to notice hunger or thirst unless in the environs of potential indulgers, in which case she will avail herself of various and sundry treats. G and I, within an hour or two of not eating, invariably find ourselves starving, even trembling, with hunger. Much longer and we become vague, lightheaded, nauseous. I happen to be hypoglycemic, and G may be too; perhaps equally significant is the fact that we both had our needs met as infants. Our physiology (sensitive) and our early environments (sensitive to our needs) matched. 

Z, in contrast, seems to be able to function indefinitely without eating, unless food is offered to her. That is, her energy stays high, her focus sharp, her spirits strong -- whether she eats regularly or not…[Obviously, I haven’t performed experiments on her, I am going on seven+ years of observation.] It’s hard to imagine she could be experiencing hunger in the profound and extreme way that G and I do and still function so well, but, as must be asked vis-à-vis her pain, doesn’t she feel some hunger? She knows her situation now is one in which her needs can be met, and yet she still self-limits on those needs…unless – and this is a real possibility -- her physiology just really is that different.

That her response varies so widely according to context potentially indicates a reduced sensitivity to her own body’s cues and/or a self-imposed (conscious or un-) denial of self-nurturing and/or a really advanced mastery of social capital. Would Z be more sensitive overall, and therefore more vulnerable, had she been nurtured differently in her first months?

People sometimes ask me to blurb their books or products or blogs on this blog and I recently agreed to read a novel about reactive attachment disorder (RAD) by a reader named Michelle Weidenbenner. Her book is called Scattered Links (http://www.amazon.com/Scattered-Links-Michelle-Weidenbenner-ebook/dp/B00HP3X6R4) and it is about a Russian orphan’s journey. I haven’t finished it (and it seems to have some Christian undertones, which may be a plus or a minus or neutral for different readers), so I haven’t yet got a blurb. I was struck powerfully, though, by this sentence from the preface, which is written in the orphan’s voice:

“We never learn how to ask for what we need because when we do, no one listens.”

I’d never connected Z’s inability to acknowledge pain or hunger with her inability to ask for what she needs or wants. Z’s refusal to ask for things comes across as regal, but it’s at base a survival strategy, a sad concession to a disappointing start.

The other day we saw a “Wild Women Don’t Get the Blues” bumper sticker and Z asked what it meant. I explained that women have often been taught to do as they are told and that doing so, just for the sake of obedience, makes women unhappy. Women should follow their own dreams and beliefs, I told her, and then they won’t get “the blues.” But sometimes the other people who make the rules -- and the other people who follow the rules -- don’t like when you make your own rules, and they might call you “wild” or “different” or “crazy,” even. And that’s okay, because you will be happier -- and stronger -- for following your own heart.

Of course, she’s still too young to make up her own rules. And I assured her I still get to boss her around for a Long Time. But I want her to know, and I will continue to say to her:  if something (or someone!) hurts you, or if you are hungry for something, speak up, my daughter!!!! How we feel – in our hearts, our bellies, our bodies, our beliefs – matters. YOU MATTER.

Now, let’s eat!

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama