I hate sounds. I always have, ever since I could remember. Even my most early memories are tainted by my hatred of the noises. A perfectly good family dinner ruined by the baby crying, crying at nothing it seemed.
A perfectly good family dinner ruined by a baby, who is a baby no longer. I was 9. We never had family dinners, not then and not now. I guess it was supposed to be a treat or something. A reward for pretending to be the functioning family that we were not. I dreaded family dinners. Mother, father, my younger sister, Natalie and I sat down at the table, the heavy wooden chairs scraped across the polished wood floors of the dining room, located in an all glass conservatory. This particular Sunday evening it was windy, and the branches of trees beat and scraped against the windows. Bon …show more content…
I stomped up the creaky wooden stairs as my family’s conversation resumed and slammed the door to my bedroom. This was routine by that point. The silent room was filled with the sounds of my sobs. I didn’t understand what was happening, why they could just sit there and tolerate the horrendous ear-splitting sounds that resonated through that damn glass dining room.
I opened my computer and climbed under the covers. I typed, not too loudly: I hate sounds. 3 simple words to change my whole life.
Instantly, thousands of articles came up, all having to do with something called “misophonia.” Intrigued, I spent hours in the silence. I learned that there were people like me, people who hated sounds too. It wasn’t all sounds, I figured out. There were certain sounds, triggers, that would produce involuntary negative emotions and actions. Rage, anger, hatred, panic, fear, emotional distress, desire to kill or stop whatever is making the noise, skin crawling. I was ecstatic, to say the least, that I wasn’t alone. I finally had proof that I wasn't just "weird" and "overreacting". That night, I also learned there isn’t a cure. But that’s
A perfectly good family dinner ruined by a baby, who is a baby no longer. I was 9. We never had family dinners, not then and not now. I guess it was supposed to be a treat or something. A reward for pretending to be the functioning family that we were not. I dreaded family dinners. Mother, father, my younger sister, Natalie and I sat down at the table, the heavy wooden chairs scraped across the polished wood floors of the dining room, located in an all glass conservatory. This particular Sunday evening it was windy, and the branches of trees beat and scraped against the windows. Bon …show more content…
I stomped up the creaky wooden stairs as my family’s conversation resumed and slammed the door to my bedroom. This was routine by that point. The silent room was filled with the sounds of my sobs. I didn’t understand what was happening, why they could just sit there and tolerate the horrendous ear-splitting sounds that resonated through that damn glass dining room.
I opened my computer and climbed under the covers. I typed, not too loudly: I hate sounds. 3 simple words to change my whole life.
Instantly, thousands of articles came up, all having to do with something called “misophonia.” Intrigued, I spent hours in the silence. I learned that there were people like me, people who hated sounds too. It wasn’t all sounds, I figured out. There were certain sounds, triggers, that would produce involuntary negative emotions and actions. Rage, anger, hatred, panic, fear, emotional distress, desire to kill or stop whatever is making the noise, skin crawling. I was ecstatic, to say the least, that I wasn’t alone. I finally had proof that I wasn't just "weird" and "overreacting". That night, I also learned there isn’t a cure. But that’s