So, I had quite the adventure this past weekend. Just thought I'd share. Started out with Thursday night and being unable to get to sleep. Not sleeping is rather a run-of-the-mill complaint for me, so the plan was to turn in at midnight and get up at five. Well, by 3 a.m. I was still lying there waiting for sleep to happen. (Side story: what's this statistic I keep running into that says insomnia only delays the onset of sleep by an average of 11 minutes? C'mon, that's not insomnia, that's...I don't know that that is but that's not insomnia.) I don't know about you, but there's no way I'm getting in a car on only two hours of sleep, so I reset the alarm & went late.
Then I found out I've shrunk out of my new work wardrobe (yeah!--I've lost 20 pounds!). Even my feet have grown thinner! But then I found a way that I could make my new shoes 'fit' by wearing fluffy socks. Might not sound very exciting, but who in the world takes nearly two hours to get dressed!?! Apparently I do. (Think I tried on nearly everything nice I own, too. Which isn't a lot--I like what I have & I detest clothes shopping. I mean, all I wear these days are worn-out jeans and faded t-shirts.)
Remarkably, I didn't get lost going there (that would be the natural time to get lost, right?)--I got lost coming home! About the time I should have been home I called hubby: "hey, you know dinner...well, I think it's going late tonight. Where am I? Gee, I dunno...Google says I'll be home soon, like, in an hour???" (I had been on the road for an hour and the meeting was only an hour away!)
So hubby drove me the next day. (He's awesome.)
We didn't get lost.
While there, I kept getting distracted by these birds outside the window. I swear, every time I found myself staring at the birds I didn't hear a word the speaker was saying. They were so beautiful, just the way they glided and pivoted in midflight, the whole flock turning a one-eighty back the way they came. Lovely. (Squirrel!)
And there was this super loud music from another event. It bothered everyone so I don't think I looked too odd doing this, but with my elbow on the table I tipped my head so as my ear pressed into my fingers and I sat like that for the longest time. Bass noises make me nauseous and sounds played out of alternating speakers will make me seasick, so this was to stave off the nausea. It worked. Later, when talking with someone, I was mid-sentence when the bass changed direction again and I just had to apologize to the person. "I'm so sorry," I said to him, "I have to see what I'm thinking about before I say it and that music is just too distracting." It sort of killed the conversation but the other person was struggling with the noise, too, so I guess it was mutual. (Ooo, look, the birds are back! How bright they are against the cerulean sky!)
Visually, I was delighted by how most people who were attending, when explaining something conceptual, preferred to look away during the explanation before reengaging eye contact. It made the environment feel very friendly. Smells, this would have embarrassed the folks I sat next to at first but there was some pretty unpleasant B.O. going on there & so I relocated to a less densely packed part of the room when able. (This is so not the kind of stuff I ever share with anyone. Hope you are not weird out.)
Actually, the noise was a major problem. At one point, I was sitting there during a break and the decibel level in the room just escalated and the world just sort of began closing in on me so that where I sat grew very small. It was a stark moment of feeling hyper-aware of all of my surroundings all at once. And the thought came to mind, you know, if you really are autistic, then it's probably just a bit of anxiety from the volume and maybe you should find something to focus on. So I did. (So, thanks to y'all & your posts on managing noise at events) Before I knew anything about autism, I probably would have found some way to retreat--look down, pretend to be busy, leave the room. But this time I tried talking with / focusing on a neighbor...only to realize too late that the sound of his words was getting lost in the noise. I could hear his voice, just could not identify what he said. (I don't think this is autism. The hearing problem is genetic.) This happened several times over the weekend and eventually led to a very awkward and (for me) embarrassing impasse that made me look like a complete idiot. I'm kind of used to it. (I swear I was replying to what I heard.) So I made do the best I could to save face but I'm not sure how well I did with that.
(You know, those online autism tests always ask if your comments are taken as rude; they never consider if they're downright embarrassing or have missed the point or that you seem to be answering something not asked, but I get these other scenarios often enough. Inappropriate or unfounded, yes, but never rude.)
Overall, I really enjoyed the experience so I'm glad I went. I am so far below the level of the professionals who attended. I did my best in asking for help with something I'm working on. I may have acquired a few new mentors, although I am also pretty sure I offended at least one person and might have annoyed a couple of others. Well, it happens. It certainly wasn't intentional. I came home exhausted and am still a bit numb about the whole thing. But you would have never known anything was amiss while I was there.
So, I just thought I'd share my experiences at this conference with you all. Maybe it can be a help to someone or maybe someone would like to share their experiences. Do you have a better way of handling the sensory environment at a conference?
Then I found out I've shrunk out of my new work wardrobe (yeah!--I've lost 20 pounds!). Even my feet have grown thinner! But then I found a way that I could make my new shoes 'fit' by wearing fluffy socks. Might not sound very exciting, but who in the world takes nearly two hours to get dressed!?! Apparently I do. (Think I tried on nearly everything nice I own, too. Which isn't a lot--I like what I have & I detest clothes shopping. I mean, all I wear these days are worn-out jeans and faded t-shirts.)
Remarkably, I didn't get lost going there (that would be the natural time to get lost, right?)--I got lost coming home! About the time I should have been home I called hubby: "hey, you know dinner...well, I think it's going late tonight. Where am I? Gee, I dunno...Google says I'll be home soon, like, in an hour???" (I had been on the road for an hour and the meeting was only an hour away!)
So hubby drove me the next day. (He's awesome.)
We didn't get lost.
While there, I kept getting distracted by these birds outside the window. I swear, every time I found myself staring at the birds I didn't hear a word the speaker was saying. They were so beautiful, just the way they glided and pivoted in midflight, the whole flock turning a one-eighty back the way they came. Lovely. (Squirrel!)
And there was this super loud music from another event. It bothered everyone so I don't think I looked too odd doing this, but with my elbow on the table I tipped my head so as my ear pressed into my fingers and I sat like that for the longest time. Bass noises make me nauseous and sounds played out of alternating speakers will make me seasick, so this was to stave off the nausea. It worked. Later, when talking with someone, I was mid-sentence when the bass changed direction again and I just had to apologize to the person. "I'm so sorry," I said to him, "I have to see what I'm thinking about before I say it and that music is just too distracting." It sort of killed the conversation but the other person was struggling with the noise, too, so I guess it was mutual. (Ooo, look, the birds are back! How bright they are against the cerulean sky!)
Visually, I was delighted by how most people who were attending, when explaining something conceptual, preferred to look away during the explanation before reengaging eye contact. It made the environment feel very friendly. Smells, this would have embarrassed the folks I sat next to at first but there was some pretty unpleasant B.O. going on there & so I relocated to a less densely packed part of the room when able. (This is so not the kind of stuff I ever share with anyone. Hope you are not weird out.)
Actually, the noise was a major problem. At one point, I was sitting there during a break and the decibel level in the room just escalated and the world just sort of began closing in on me so that where I sat grew very small. It was a stark moment of feeling hyper-aware of all of my surroundings all at once. And the thought came to mind, you know, if you really are autistic, then it's probably just a bit of anxiety from the volume and maybe you should find something to focus on. So I did. (So, thanks to y'all & your posts on managing noise at events) Before I knew anything about autism, I probably would have found some way to retreat--look down, pretend to be busy, leave the room. But this time I tried talking with / focusing on a neighbor...only to realize too late that the sound of his words was getting lost in the noise. I could hear his voice, just could not identify what he said. (I don't think this is autism. The hearing problem is genetic.) This happened several times over the weekend and eventually led to a very awkward and (for me) embarrassing impasse that made me look like a complete idiot. I'm kind of used to it. (I swear I was replying to what I heard.) So I made do the best I could to save face but I'm not sure how well I did with that.
(You know, those online autism tests always ask if your comments are taken as rude; they never consider if they're downright embarrassing or have missed the point or that you seem to be answering something not asked, but I get these other scenarios often enough. Inappropriate or unfounded, yes, but never rude.)
Overall, I really enjoyed the experience so I'm glad I went. I am so far below the level of the professionals who attended. I did my best in asking for help with something I'm working on. I may have acquired a few new mentors, although I am also pretty sure I offended at least one person and might have annoyed a couple of others. Well, it happens. It certainly wasn't intentional. I came home exhausted and am still a bit numb about the whole thing. But you would have never known anything was amiss while I was there.
So, I just thought I'd share my experiences at this conference with you all. Maybe it can be a help to someone or maybe someone would like to share their experiences. Do you have a better way of handling the sensory environment at a conference?
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