The loss of physical sensation: Why it happens and how it leaves young people vulnerable.
The following post is the third in a series of excerpts adapted from by Katherine Uher.
Sometimes in a crowd my senses will shut off, the noise around me will fade into a white buzz, if someone is trying to speak to me in a busy restaurant I won’t be able to separate and hear their words from the background noise. In a shop: I won’t feel the people brushing past me, if one of my children tugs on my arm it will take me a long time before I’ll notice. Sensory issues are common for people, like me, who are on the autistic spectrum. This can be seen in young children on the autistic spectrum who experience long delays in toilet training due to the fact that they struggle to feel their bodies. This loss of sensation has to do with our irregular endorphin levels. Endorphins, which have pain killing properties, are released when a person experiences pain, stress or pleasure. When a person has a heightened sensitivity to pain, stress or pleasure they will get a heightened dose of endorphins. But rather than simply numbing pain, an overdose of endorphins may cause some physical sensations to shut down all together.
The first time I became aware of my senses shutting down was in middle school while trying to open my locker in the chaos of the crowded hallway. One day I looked down to find that a boy had his hands on my breasts. I pulled away and he ran off. What was odd and scary to me was that I could see him clearly, if I happened to be looking, but I couldn’t feel myself being touched. It was as if I were looking through a window at my own body. I went to the principal to complain. I didn’t mention that I couldn’t feel what was happening. I was ashamed of myself for not feeling my own body. I felt stupid for not knowing when I was being touched. Other people would have known.
I didn’t know who the boy was, but I tried to describe what he looked like as best I could. I struggle to differentiate between faces. Difficulty with facial recognition is another common problem for people on the autistic spectrum and that was another thing I didn’t understand about myself and couldn’t explain to others. From the moment I had first tried to and articulate how different I felt there were well meaning people telling me I wasn’t that different, normalizing my sensitivities or quirks. They’d make statements about: How they were terrible with faces too. They also hated crowds and loud noises. That we all felt self conscious about our ability to “fit in” and make friends. That really I was just like everyone else. So I imagined that we were all, more or less, having the same life experience and others simply complained less than I did. I was often accused of being thoughtless and self centred in how I spoke and behaved, so I assumed that my sensitivities were another form of my self indulgence. That decent people just complained less and thought less about their own suffering. That I needed to learn to think less of mine.
The assault by my locker became a recurring incident. Sometimes it happened multiple times a day. And so multiple times a day I would head to the principal’s office to report it. Soon I could see the roll of the secretary’s eye as I approached again. One day after my complaint the principal let out a sigh, sat back, and asked me what I wanted him to do about it. I didn’t know what to say. “I want you to make it stop,” but I thought that was obvious. Messages I got were: “You’re not that different.” “If someone touches you inappropriately tell a grown-up.” and then the unspoken, You should know how to handle this on your own. Even in my teens I was starting recognize this unspoken message, to sense that others blamed me for my difficulties and I felt ashamed of having them.
I asked the principal what I should do. I simply wanted him to give me some other option besides standing there and being molested while I tried to open my locker. He sighed again and told me to continue reporting the incidents when they happened. I went back to his office far more often than anyone else probably would have, until eventually I learned that it did no good and felt convinced that I was doing something wrong in being molested (not figuring out how to take care of myself) and something wrong in complaining (making my failure someone else’s problem). So I stopped complaining and started keeping the molestation (my failure) a secret.
For more on my story read: Calling it “Rape” Felt Melodramatic
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