Every website,every discussion,every interview about Sensory Processing Disorder is an opportunity to answer the question for someone,somewhere,who has been wondering all their life,“What’s wrong with me?”

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Sensory Modulation Disorder and Depression? Move It! Move It! Move It!

Sensory Modulation - Exhaustion or Depression

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“In 1979, I needed to learn more than biology or chemistry or how to deconstruct literature. I needed to learn how to navigate my life as an adult with a sensory modulation and sensory motor disorder.” –Lane

“Can you take me to a doctor?” I said into the brown plastic hand piece of my princess phone. “I’m losing my mind.”

I set the receiver into the base as gently as I could. If I wasn’t careful the ringer made a startled sound,like I had hurt it.

I sat on the sofa too weak and demoralized to do anything but

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If Sensory Processing Disorder had been in the DSM

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Had Sensory Processing Disorder been in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual my life would have changed when I left home to go to college. There,my first act of total independence was to go to the psychology building at the university and ask for help.

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong with me?” I asked the head of the department.

Growing up,I was “a problem.” I didn’t fall asleep or wake up like I was supposed to. Fancy clothes made me itch and complain. I did my best to avoid group activities. In school,I couldn’t keep my

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Sensory Defensive Nail Trimming –an Adventure in Motherhood

Nail Filing Image

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It is for the moms of young SPD children that I write about nail trimming. To anyone who would judge me for writing about such a ridiculously trite topic,I ask,“What the hell are you doing on my blog,anyway?”

So,Moms,let me bestow upon you 50 years of high-sensitivity nail trimming experience.

I work with my hands:I draw,type,sew,catch Frisbees,garden –things I cannot do comfortably or efficiently with long nails. When the nails get to a length where they interfere with my daily activities,or (more accurately) when they bother me unrelentingly,

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Stimming with Cockroach on Freeway

Cockroach on the Freeway!

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I caught motion in my peripheral vision – driver’s side window. It was over an inch and a half long,reddish brown. It was in the car with me as I drove 65 mph in the middle of six lanes of freeway traffic.

But first…

I was driving home from my weekly writer’s critique group. Why were so many other drivers on the Katy freeway? It was after 9 pm. Don’t these people have a life? It had been a long day;I was whipped. But it didn’t keep me from thinking of a question I heard on the Sensory

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Meltdown

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It was a perfect storm first thing in the morning.

Gentle rain soothed like a lullaby,gently lapping unconsciousness over my attempt to surface into the day.

Just move, I told myself when I next poked my head above dreamy morning sleep.

The best I could do was fumble for the stereo remote.

Morning Edition broadcast a report from Japan about people enduring hunger,loss and misery.

Still in bed,surrounded by pillows,I rebuilt the structure that was washed away while I slept. It’s a barrier to keep me safe from images;only words are allowed through. I build

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Buying the New Prius

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Buying Prius 2 is a four part story. It illustrates the light and dark side,maybe even a green,blue and red side, of living inside a “sensational” body. Lightly, I hope,it touches upon sensory over-responsivity,and sensory-based motor disorder.

The moral of the story – if you inhabit a sensational body,venturing outside of routine is a time to take very special care of yourself.

Prius part1 –Dealership

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Thursday,my husband Watson and I spent two hours inside a noisy,bustling car dealership. It was the preliminary attempt to replace his 2001 F150 pickup with a Prius. Prius 2 we will call it,since we already own Prius 1.

I couldn’t block out the noise:conversation,traffic and piped-in music which bounced off every surface,but I had my iPhone. My favorite playlist,streaming through ear-buds,neutralized some of the noise. I wore a hat,which I have taken to doing almost all the time now,to shade the direct glare from the fluorescent lights.

One side of

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Prius part2 –Leaving Home

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I couldn’t navigate successfully into Friday. I forgot key components of my morning ritual. Every time I sat down at my computer I remembered something important and had to get out of my chair. I was in a state of irritable hypo-mania. We still had the car negotiation hanging over us. Watson was desperate to complete the deal since the AC in the pickup bit the dust a few days ago,just as Houston’s little cold snap retreated. Our pea soup air was scheduled to warm into the 80’s.

“Dripping sweat does not make a good impression on my clients,” Watson said

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Prius part3 –Navigation

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Driving can replenish my energy or deplete it,depending on the circumstances of the trip and the road. On this day,the goddess of the adventure smiled upon me. Navigating Prius 1 through the streets of Houston had the feel of roller-blading or mountain biking;proprioceptive delight flooded my nervous system. I felt up to the challenge of this day. The feeling had eluded me all morning,but I had it now,driving,and the pleasure of having captured it made me smile.

I arrived in the parking lot with ten minutes to spare. How that happened seemed like a

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Prius part4 –Pain and Despair

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“That’s it. We got $3K for the pickup. He’s going to put the paperwork together and it’ll be over except for the signing.”

“You’re going to stay there?” I asked in horror. The plan we discussed this morning was he’d leave as soon as the appraiser had seen the truck. We’d complete negotiations over the phone. They would do the paperwork and we’d go back at some future date to sign and pick up Prius 2.

“It’s alright. I have my computer open. No one is bothering me because ‘I’m working.’”

“That’s slick,” I said,“What are you really doing?”

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