“So, what, are you, like, afraid of soup or something?”
Nope, but thanks for asking that patronizing question anyways. Not too many people are familiar with Misophonia and it’s a condition so uncommon, most people with this illness don’t even know there’s a word for what they’re feeling. Misophonia is defined as “A strong reaction to specific sounds. Misophonia may cause a reaction to sounds such as dripping water, chewing, snapping gum, or repetitive noises, such as pencil tapping” (Mayo Clinic) but it goes much deeper than that.
In my junior year of highschool, every day felt like I was drowning and fighting so hard to keep my head above water. I had been diagnosed with depression and severe anxiety for a couple of years at that point, and I knew school made my symptoms worse. However, I didn’t know why I was becoming completely unhinged when my peers would cough, sneeze, smack their gum, or their wet shoes would squeak against the tile floors. I didn’t know why these sounds would make my chest freeze with fear or why they would make me feel so angry, that it took everything I had to stop myself from screaming. My parents thought I was making it up, being dramatic and a brat for having to excuse myself from the dinner table, because their chewing was causing a reaction that I had no words to describe. Everyday depended on the weather; if it was sunny I knew my school day would be fine, but if it rained that would mean peoples shoes would squeak against the floor and my day would be a struggle to get through.
“Have you ever heard of Misophonia?” My therapist asked during a session. It was by dumb luck that her daughter had the same rare condition and she was able to describe exactly what I was feeling every day. Suddenly, my world felt a lot smaller. I finally had a name for the nasty demon that was destroying my life and making me feel like I couldn’t control my thoughts. Finally, it felt like I had a way I could advocate for myself and my needs. My therapist explained that Misophonia affects the same part of the brain as OCD, that my trigger sounds caused compulsive and involuntary feelings of dread, fear, and rage, and that these triggers worsened during times of heightened anxiety. It wasn’t just the emotions I struggled with, but also the pain that the triggers caused. It would be like firecrackers going off inside my head, like I was being shocked with a wire, and uncontrollable chills and goosebumps would run up and down my spine until the trigger sound ceased. While I felt empowered that I had a diagnosis, I still felt incredibly alone and broken because there was no known treatment or cure.
Since my junior year, I never left my house without a pair of headphones. Music was the only thing that helped ease the symptoms, as it drowned out the triggers during school. I dreaded large gen-ed classes on campus, I dreaded the squeaking of wet shoes on the CATA buses as people desperately tried to keep their footing, and I dreaded flu season, when sick kids would refuse to miss lectures over a silly cold. Headphones helped in these situations, but every day was still a battle that took a significant toll on my mental health.
That’s why I have been thriving in online school and want to acknowledge those who do as well. As long as anyone can remember, traditional schooling has favored the able-bodied, able-minded student and left everyone else behind in the dust. That’s not to say online doesn’t present just as difficult situations for many students, but for a decent amount of them, they never had to struggle with paying attention, fighting off panic attacks, or having to deal with any number of triggers. For those of us who’s daily routine consists of fighting off mental illness, online school can seem like a god-send. Instead of going to war each day, worrying about the potential triggers you might face, you can just focus on being a student, like everyone else.
It’s important to be aware of the privileges that exist in both a virtual and physical education setting, and that different students will thrive in different situations. I wrote this to empower those with mental illnesses that make traditional schooling very hard to deal with, and let you know that you are not alone in this struggle. Do whatever you need to do in order to make yourself feel safe and ready to succeed! Misophonia is a very serious mental illness and while rare, I suggest that if you related to this article at all, try to bring up your symptoms to a doctor or therapist and have a conversation about your mental health. It’s always important to advocate for yourself!