By Tim Aiello, MA, LPC, NCC, ADHD-CCSP, ASDCS
Living as an AuDHD adult means navigating a world that frequently feels overwhelming and, at times, even painful. Of all the sensory experiences that challenge me, touch is perhaps the most intense and ever-present. Each day is a careful negotiation with my own nervous system, as ordinary interactions with textures, clothing, and even loving gestures like hugs can trigger profound discomfort and distress.
My fingertips are almost always curled inward, forming a protective shield against a world filled with sensations that feel intrusive and overwhelming. Even at night, I sleep with my fingers tightly curled because laying my hand flat against the mattress is intolerable—the feel of sheets, regardless of the material, is an awful sensation. I often catch myself unconsciously gripping tightly, avoiding contact with anything but my own skin. The irony is palpable: the very fingertips that are designed to explore and interact become a source of chronic discomfort and pain. My feet experience a similar sensitivity, making walking barefoot unbearable, even within my own tidy home. Like the story of the Princess and the Pea, no matter how clean my floor is, any small object triggers an intense discomfort that is impossible to ignore.
This sensitivity extends far beyond my hands. I'm acutely aware of every sensation—the subtle pressure of my glasses on my face, the gentle but constant constriction of my hat, or the relentless irritation from clothing tags and seams. Even my favorite hoodies can suddenly transform from comfortable to unbearably claustrophobic. The tight collar isn't just mildly irritating; it induces genuine panic. My heart races, my breathing accelerates, and rational explanations fail me as my nervous system screams that I'm trapped.
Because of these intense sensations, I gravitate toward specific clothing choices for their sensory comfort. I almost always wear a hat now because the constant gentle pressure feels calming and grounding. Conversely, I avoid socks entirely unless absolutely necessary. Over time, I've gradually transformed my wardrobe to accommodate these sensory preferences. Yet, despite all these adjustments, there are inevitably days when my sensitivities spike dramatically, making every item of clothing unbearably uncomfortable throughout the entire day.
Polyvagal Theory (PVT), developed by Dr. Stephen Porges, sheds light on why this occurs. According to PVT, our nervous systems use a process known as neuroception to continually assess whether our environments and interactions feel safe or threatening.
For individuals like myself, who are neurodivergent, this process is hypersensitive. Sensations that neurotypical individuals might not even notice can trigger intense sympathetic responses (fight or flight), causing significant emotional and physiological upheaval.
Research confirms that heightened sensory sensitivities are common among autistic adults, and when combined with ADHD—where emotional regulation can already be challenging—these sensory triggers are amplified (Marco et al., 2011). My sensory sensitivity doesn't simply affect my physical comfort; it profoundly impacts my relationships and emotional well-being.
One of the hardest parts of this experience is explaining it to those I love. When someone reaches out for a hug, the emotional conflict I feel is overwhelming. Deep down, I yearn for the connection, the closeness. But the moment contact occurs, my skin feels raw, my muscles tense, and my nervous system activates defensively. The inability to reciprocate comfortably is heartbreaking, often leaving me feeling isolated or misunderstood.
Day-to-day strategies have become essential for managing my sensory world. I deliberately choose clothing with softer fabrics and fewer seams, remove tags meticulously, and practice sensory grounding techniques such as deep pressure or gentle rocking. Communicating openly with my loved ones about my sensory needs has also been vital, fostering compassion and understanding.
By understanding my experiences through the lens of PVT, I’ve begun to reclaim control over my sensory environment, cultivating spaces that respect and accommodate my neurological wiring. While the sensitivity may never fully disappear, navigating it with awareness and self-compassion allows me to find moments of genuine peace and connection within a world that often feels overwhelmingly intense.
References:
Marco, E. J., Hinkley, L. B., Hill, S. S., & Nagarajan, S. S. (2011). Sensory processing in autism: A review of neurophysiologic findings. Pediatric Research, 69(5), 48R–54R. https://doi.org/10.1203/PDR.0b013e3182130c54
Porges, S. W. (2021). Polyvagal Theory: A biobehavioral journey. Comprehensive Psychoneuroendocrinology, 6, 100041. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cpnec.2021.100041
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