Wednesday, December 29, 2010

23 today :)

Just felt like I should leave a quick note that I am 23 as of this morning. Amazing to think I was still lost and in such a very different place just 3 years ago on my 20th. I am much happier to be where I am now though, surrounded and embraced by the SPD community.

So, what I'm up to today. Well, I'm going to a couple hockey games in a couple hours. College hockey. Every year on the 29th and 30th, 4 college hockey teams play a regular season tournament (the Great Lakes Invitational) at Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, home of the Detroit Red Wings.  Once every few years, my dad gets tickets to at least one of these days for my birthday.  This year, he ended up with tickets to both days, all 4 games. So, I am going to be doing that today and tomorrow.

So, I have the good and the bad to look forward to.  It's great, because I love hockey, and love to watch it live. For someone who used to breathe hockey, this is truly what I like to be doing. Unfortunately, it is incredibly overwhelming. This is 4 hockey games in 2 days. A double header tonight and another double header tomorrow night.

How will I survive 4 hockey games in 2 days at a 20,000+ seating arena?

Well, one thing is obvious to me, noise! It will be loud, and every time someone scores, they blare an amazingly loud horn. So, I will be bringing two sets of earbuds, which are like ear plugs, but are even better because I can listen to music through them. I got a brand new 16GB Walkman mp3 player for Christmas, so I will be using that a lot! I still have my old 4GB GoGear, so I'll keep that in another pocket, should the battery die on my new one while I'm there.

My stomach has also been bugging me lately. So, I will be bringing Maalox in one pocket of my coat, as well as a bag of crackers should I not be up to the arena food.  I will also have a cold wet washcloth in that coat. Sounds crazy, I know, but it's needed. My ears start burning as I get overloaded, so if I press a cold wet cloth against them, they will cool down and it will help me avert a meltdown. I will also have a bottled water, but that will probably have to be in the car, since I doubt they'd let me bring that in with the no outside food or beverages policy (though I'm confident I'll be able to get the crackers in).

So, wish me the best guys. This should be tough, but I'm glad to be able to do it so long as I survive it. :P

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Code, Dew, and Death Threats

Well, just about an hour ago, I was busy pounding away on some code for my Coding III course (JavaScript, gag!).  I was getting pretty frustrated, as is typical when I go to work on this stuff. HTML and CSS made perfect sense to me, but JS is from another world.

At the same time, my mom was trying to clean the windows on the opposite end of my room (I sleep in the former attic of the house, so it's one big room, my space divided only by furniture.  She was turning on the vacuum cleaner intermittently. One minute of hypersensitivity inducing noise, then she would turn it off, go downstairs, come back up, and do it again. After a few rotations of this, and struggling to figure out the code while still maintaining a chat room, well...

I told her that it would be nice if she warned me before turning on the cleaner, which would give me enough time to get out my earbud headphones and protect myself from the meltdown-triggering noise.  She remembered my issue in that area, and agreed to remind me. Cool :).

Well, as time wore on, I got more and more uncomfortable, more stressed out, and more sensory defensive. Pretty soon, I was feeling myself starting to shut down; I wasn't able to move as well and could feel myself starting to turn snappy (mentally, don't know if anyone would have been able to see this).  Eventually, my mom asked me if I could help her with something, and I really wanted to do it, but my system was now officially fried. Poor mom, I just snapped at her and yelled out "WHAT?!?"

Well, I tried to calm back down and apologize, but she started talking, asking me when I was going to get out of her house.  The voice cut right through me though, I was pretty darn gone by now. I tried to get up to help her, walking across the ground, unable to even master the physical act of putting on my pants at that moment. I went over to help with her telling me now not to. When I made it there, she was done, so I headed back to my bed to try to relax myself desperately. 

Well, as I went to lay down, I (of course, dyspraxic as I am), I knocked over a glass of Mountain Dew that had been sitting by my bed. Well, not a glass, but a plastic cup, because I know better than to trust myself with glass, lol. Since the glass had been about half full (must be optimistic, eh? :-P), it managed to make quite the puddle at the base of my bed, spraying onto my bedsheets and a bunch of stuff I had on the floor.

Well, now I had had it. It was a mild meltdown, but became much larger after that. I quickly picked up the cup, and grabbed my heating pad off the floor where it had fallen. I took my heating pad and chucked it across the room (plug and all) into a fan that was sitting by my TV. I went over to the fan, picked it up, and then threw that down to the floor, in the good ole' search for proprioceptive input.

Then came the verbal effluence. I started swearing randomly and issuing death threats. No, I don't say I'm going to kill any 'body,' but I do say I'm going to kill some 'thing.'  Apparently, my cup was alive, and had children, because I was determined to kill them all. :-P
Damn cup! How dare he be where my arm was! I'll show him!

Anyhow, I grabbed some rags downstairs and headed back up to my room to soak up the Dew.  In route, I slammed into whatever walls I could. I tried to do things the right way that I recommend to others, and push myself off of the wall or give myself joint compressions, but lost it instead and nearly broke a couple doors and busted the rag drawer. 

When I got back to finally lay down, my sheet and blanket (which are very friendly to me tactile was, were now wet from the pop and needed to be removed. I felt my ears burning, and when I was able to make it back downstairs again, I noticed my left ear was so overloaded it was turning a dark red. I dampened a washcloth and used that on my ears while I laid back down, and the meltdown slowly subsided.

Ah, just felt the need to post this, if only to show some of my friends that I have my moments, for sure, lol. :P

Monday, November 1, 2010

Childhood Revisited

The sensory seeking child throws himself into a constant state of motion, bumping, pushing and fixating on seemingly everything. The under-responder will appear to not even notice anything in her environment. The over-responder will scream or have emotional outbursts over what may seem like the smallest of things. Children with Sensory Processing Disorder tend to have quite the knack for the extremes and the unusual, and my past serves as no exception.

I was born in a time where Dr. Jean Ayres was the gold standard in SPD research and understanding, and most people just simply had no idea what any of it all meant. Very few people knew anything about it. Support was limited and hard to come by, and the commercial Internet wasn’t even around yet for help. Outside of Ayres publications, there was very little available to anyone. When I was diagnosed initially in 1989, that’s the way things were. Perhaps that is why I grew up not even knowing I had a problem, in spite of already having the diagnosis.

As an infant, my parents recalled many symptoms: little to no muscle tone or grip, lack of natural world-exploring behavior, extreme overreactions to even mundane sensory input, and a complete inability to function in noisy or bright environments. That wasn’t it. No, there were definitely more symptoms, but those were just a few of the highlights.

Then, a close family friend walked into the situation, and told my confused and worried mother about the benefits of occupational therapy (OT) for children like me. Intrigued, my mom had me seen by an OT, who didn’t need to take very long at diagnosing my sensory difficulties. All she had to do was hear a few of my mom’s comments, and watch me struggling to walk across the floor to make her certain that this is what I struggled with.

Over the next few years, until I was about 5 or 6, my mom was following recommendations from the occupational therapist, even though she couldn’t afford to have me seen by one anymore. It proved invaluable. Those years were quite difficult; as I grew and continued to hit subsequent developmental changes, my symptoms shifted and altered, and I picked up many more signs of my deeply rooted problems.

I was a sensory seeker. I couldn’t get enough! I was running in circles, spinning myself endlessly, jumping onto and crashing into everything, chewing up whatever I could get a hold of, and couldn’t go more than a few seconds without moving. When I was 2, I pulled down an entire curtain, along with the rod. I was given the nickname of Demolition Dan, and it fit me well. I would steamroll over whatever was around me, breaking things constantly. A good Sit N’ Spin was a saving grace for me, as was a trampoline and deep pressure from my parents.

I was an under-responder. I wouldn’t always react right away when people would speak to me. I would walk into things without even seeming to notice them. I wouldn’t catch myself when I fell, and couldn’t seem to feel my mouth. I was hard to get motivated at times, and was easily fatigued. I was a dreamer. I could just sit there for hours, my mind deeply entrenched in my imagination. I also had sensory discrimination problems, which is very common in kids with under-responsiveness. I had a hard time deciphering between similar sounds and sights. I had a hard time knowing where noises were coming from, and couldn’t find anything I was feeling for unless I looked. It was difficult to learn directions and the difference between right and left. My senses were simply muddled, confusing and difficult to interpret.

I was an over-responder, a sensory defensive child. I couldn’t handle a lot of things. Even though I would spin myself in circles, I would get motion sickness during road trips and couldn’t go on amusement park rides. Although I loved to touch others and bump and crash, I couldn’t stand to be touched by other people. Light touch and unexpected touch were too much for me to handle, and would throw me into immediate fight or flight. I also was unable to handle water on my face, and couldn’t swim, even though I went through years of swimming lessons that scared me immensely. I couldn’t wear shirts with tags or clothing with obtrusive seams. I couldn’t handle bright or flashing lights or noisy environments. I would get easily overloaded and was difficult to calm down.

I was also clumsy, the kid that would bump into everything no matter what he did, the kid who was always picked last for sports, if he was even invited. I was not very coordinated and my reflexes were either slow or non-existent. I struggled through five and a half years of little league baseball, only to finally quit because I was too afraid of the ball, couldn’t ever get a hit, and had a throw that was far from perfect (I had even hit one of our star players with a throw that was intended to go way to the left of him). I couldn’t do simple stuff like tying my shoes, pouring a drink, reaching for something without knocking something over, or getting dressed very easily. I couldn’t figure out where my body was in space or how to maneuver it to do anything. I had to constantly keep track of where my limbs were mentally to do the most common tasks, simply because my brain couldn’t connect with it all.

I also had no muscle tone and had a very flimsy posture. I couldn’t sit without slouching, stand without leaning, or eat with my elbows off the table. Saliva was always pooling in my mouth and I would frequently drool and slobber. I would get in trouble for spitting while I ate and was accused of being lazy. I would get very easily fatigued by just the smallest of tasks, and couldn’t keep my head up in school for the life of me.

That’s a pretty long list of things I had difficulty with, of the areas I struggled in, but it is merely the tip of the iceberg. What was most devastating was how this all added up to make me one of the loneliest, most isolated children you might ever meet. I didn’t really have friends. I really, really wanted them, but kids didn’t want to be seen with me or talk to me. The kid who I thought was my best friend turned out to not even want to be around me. The only kid who ever helped me out (even used to open my milk at school for me) was skipped ahead a grade, not to be seen again. I had people I talked to, but no one ever approached me or seemed interested in being my friend. I felt like such an isolated and unwanted failure, that I started having suicidal thoughts as young as seven years old.

As childhood went on, my family life got more and more hectic and stressful. Around the time that Dr. Lucy Miller, Carol Kranowitz, and others were putting out some of the greatest resource books and tools to date on the topic, my family didn’t even seem to remember me having a problem. I became the kid who just stayed to himself, quiet and just wanting to get by. I played video games constantly, pretty much all day. I would also read books, either intermediate level books or books that were so depressing and dark that at least one teacher was concerned. Not many showed sympathetic concern though; it was usually more along the lines of telling me my complaints were in my head, and that I just needed to get over whatever it was I was having trouble with.

I knew nothing about SPD, and that didn’t change until I was in college. As I got older in school, I soon didn’t even really have people I would talk to. By high school, I was quickly becoming a wreck. Years of standing on the sidelines and watching everyone else thrive while I struggled had taken their toll. The stress and chaos in my environment had led made me physically sick, and I missed a lot of school, dropping my grade point average, which would keep me out of the top classes in the school. Ultimately, with no support, and my parents busy with my younger brother (who was slipping into severe bipolar symptoms), I wasn’t sure what to make of myself. I was just trying to get through my day, and I lost hope for my future. I didn’t even apply to a university, which surprised most of my teachers. I simply stopped caring or hoping.

Light came though, at the end of this tunnel. Shortly after turning 20, while I was dragging myself through community college and struggling through a part time job, I recalled that I had this diagnosis, that I had once been told there was ‘something wrong.’ I also knew that I had no idea what any of it meant.

I searched it out. I found out about it. I kept looking and reading, and my life changed before my eyes. I finally knew why I was the way I was, why things had been so terribly difficult for me at times. I was upset and incredibly frustrated, but at the same time, I was remarkably relieved and awestruck by the shear impact of this amazing discovery. For the first time in my life, I could shift the blame off of me, could cast many of my burdens onto a disorder that had taken so much from me.

I started to love myself, to see myself in ways I had never before seen. I simply couldn’t stay silent about this. I needed to share this with the world. I desperately wanted no one else to have to go through what I did. I didn’t want one more suffering child, one more lonely teen, or one more depressed adult to have to live without knowing what was wrong. I didn’t want parents to be so afraid for their children, so long as their children grew up with the knowledge that this isn’t their fault, and that it isn’t their parent’s fault either. I found a focus, and I found a passion. This is where my life has been leading me. This is a calling, and I cannot ignore it.

I want the generations that came before me to be the last to have no idea what was wrong, to have never heard of SPD. I want my generation to be the last that was on the borderline, the last that found out about SPD at a later age. I want the children of today to be the last that grow up in a world that doesn’t understand their struggles or their symptoms as part of a deep underlying neurological disorder. I want our children’s children to enter into a world where SPD kids are given the love and support they need, where ignorance has been replaced by understanding, and where fear and judging have been replaced by acceptance and love. It truly isn’t enough to prepare our children for the world; we really must also prepare the world for our children. This is my dream, and my focus. Let’s work together to make this a reality!

This post was also published on Caryn Huska's blog: Living with Logan as a guest contribution.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Welcome to My SPD Life blog!

Hello there friends and SPD family!

My name is Dan Travis, and I am a 22 year old college student at Washtenaw Community College, putting the finishing touches on an Associates' Degree in Internet Professional (Web Development). I work at the same school as a student writing tutor, so I help other students with their writing assignments.

For those who aren't aware, I have been diagnosed with a neurological impairment known as Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD). People with SPD have a hard time processing incoming sensory input.  I'm often over or under sensitive to sensory input, or I seek out extreme amounts of input. I also have issues with motor control, coordination, and posture that can not be explained by anything other than SPD. This blog will primarily be an outlet for me to share about my life with this disability.

Since I learned about SPD back in January of 2008, my life has changed significantly. Before, I pretty much had no friends, either online or in person. That changed within months of my discovery, as it convinced me to become active online in search of support. The help I have found has been tremendous. The friendships have been even better. I am still working on the 'in person' part though. ;)

I now run, on top of this blog, a few websites on the topic:
SPD International Forums -
SPD Life Adult SPD Resource Center -
SPD Parent SHARE -

It has taken me nearly 3 years to get myself to set up this blog, but I have finally done it!

Welcome one, welcome all, to My SPD Life.