How sensory processing affects my appearance
Oops, I did it again
It happened again. Those of you who have read my memoir, Motherness, are familiar with how I experience sensitivities to certain stimuli. As a child, my sensory processing challenges were spun as a personality flaw. I was “picky” and “fussy” and “whiny” and “difficult”—take your pick. The reality was quite the opposite; I hated to make a fuss and did everything possible to avoid drawing attention to myself. I worked hard to dissolve into the background.
Whether it was the foods I ate, the clothes I wore, there were certain things I just couldn’t seem to tolerate no matter how hard I tried. And I tried. Most of the time I forced myself. I swallowed it down even when it meant I spent the day actively suffering, unable to focus on anything but my own discomfort.
It’s hard to explain if you don’t experience it. Imagine walking around with a pin in your shoe all day. You know it’s there, constantly jabbing into your foot, impossible to ignore. But you aren’t allowed to complain and you aren’t allowed to remove it. As children, we depend on others for our every need. We don’t have agency over what we eat and what we wear. We don’t have control over our environments. Even when we desperately need to escape these environments, we can’t. That’s why children so often act out. It’s the only way to get attention. We cry. We scream. We claw. We throw things. It’s a language that grown ups respond to, even though it’s not ideal. It provokes action.
I distinctly remember certain offensive clothing items from that time… The salmon pink short-sleeve top, the one with ruffles that ran vertically down the front. The seams of the ruffles rubbed against my chest and drove me to distraction. There’s a good reason I don’t wear pink. That top burned a hole in my memory for all the wrong reasons. It just goes to show how powerful and lasting certain sensations are.
As I grew older, I bought my own clothes. Made my own food. Just the other day I saw a matching leisurewear set in a storefront window. It was a glorious retro pattern. I went inside. The sales assistant pointed out the set from the display. All it took was one touch of the fabric. Merino wool. I shook my head, mumbled that I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t be trying it on. And there was no chance in hell that I would buy it. Sorry, I said. She still didn’t understand. Her face screwed up, part confused, part judgmental (I think). She kept insisting and working her sales angle. I kept apologizing, though I was getting annoyed by her insistence. I backed out of the store.
Never again will I be pressured into wearing something that feels awful.
For years now I have been trying to grow out my short hair. I’ve gone from a pixie to a bob and back again. It’s been a painstaking process. Gradually, my hair inched ever closer to shoulder length. At last. The last time my hair was long was 15 years ago, when my son was a toddler. I love long hair, the flowing locks that cascade over across the shoulder. I have been brainwashed like everyone to believe that long hair is feminine, is sexy… Mostly, though, I love the idea of long hair. The reality: I can’t handle having long hair. All month long my hair has been driving me crazy, just like it did years ago when I was a student, alone in my apartment. If you know, you know…
Today I have an appointment. I am getting it all cut off, cropped close to the scalp. Again. It’s not about fashion. It’s not about vanity. It’s the proverbial pin in the shoe, invisible to everyone but me. I know I will feel so much better once it’s done.
How do your specific sensory needs affect how you look and how show up in the world?
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I love putting outfits together, but my sensory needs ebb & flow from day to day — and I think my general baseline is higher than I’d like to admit 😔 There’s so much I’d like to wear, but a few seconds, minutes, hours into wearing it and I want to scream.
It’s so disappointing, not to mention shameful given the dialogue about wasting clothes. Obviously I support the environmental reasons, but I want to feel alive, not like I’m forced into a uniform.
Re: the hair, I’ve had long-ish hair for a while now & love the ability to put it down, but it’s a very rare situation. Usually, it’s piled away on top of my head. Also, part of what’s made this sustainable, especially in the Texas heat, is a perpetual undercut so there’s more airflow in the back.
Ty for opening up the discussion on this 🫶🏻
Thanks, Julie, for the header you included in today's post - about feeling overwhelmed, so you acknowledge anyone who slows down long enough to read your work. I feel this way, too, and it does mean a lot when a reader takes time with our words, doesn't it? That said, I appreciate what you wrote about walking away from an outfit that was visually appealing but once you felt the fabric, you knew you wouldn't wear it. All five of my kids are this way, too, and it's refreshing to read about an adult who simply gives herself permission to accept the sensory overload and allow herself to be comfortable. I wish so much that my kids' private school would accommodate sensory needs, because it's a battle to get my children to wear the uniforms.