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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Lane’s Food Sanity Rules

Hungry Lizzy

Rule #4:When homicidal rage blurs your vision,ask,“Could you be hungry?” Watson and I rarely argue. Thirty years of wedded bliss has given us plenty of time to compromise on and respect our differences of preference and opinion. But neither of us is perfect. Sometimes while feeling around in the gray area for compromise,one of us may stumble upon something unbearable.

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Modulation Madness

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Think of what it would be like if every time you wanted to exit the freeway you had to overcome the concrete barrier,crash down the grassy hill,jump the curb and merge with street traffic driving at one third your speed.

My guess is you would just keep driving on the freeway until you ran out of gas.

Sensory modulation is the entrance ramps and acceleration lanes of the normal human brain.

From major life changes to small everyday activities,people with atypical sensory modulation abilities may struggle with transition.

My own personal transition struggles begin

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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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