It seems so strange to me that it's only recently you hear much about the "Intense World" concept of autism, because the first time I saw psychologists working with low functioning nonverbal autistic children back in 1982, and the reporter asked why they were rocking and stimming (though they didn't use that word), and the researcher said "We really don't know that yet," I was shocked to hear him say that, because I, who knew nothing about autism at the time, could see from my living room just watching on TV, exactly why they did it. I even said it out loud: "Ask me, I know why." In fact, I may have used the very phrase "They do it because life is too intense and it hurts."
I knew this because even though I was much higher functioning than those kids were (and wouldn't even hear the word "Asperger Syndrome" for another 20 years), I had been stimming like that every day of my life and I knew why I did it. Because, unlike all the people around me, who seemed to cope with day-to-day life rather calmly most of the time and only rarely stressed out much about anything, my life seemed to affect me very differently - as Christopher Guest said about his amp in 'This Is Spinal Tap': "This one goes to 11."
It wasn't just that sounds seemed louder to me than to others, or lights brighter - how would I know that? It was just...EVERYTHING - life itself just felt too intense. I don't know how else to describe it. Like I could never, ever, completely relax the way other people did. I felt constantly on my guard, like my 'Fight or Flight' response was turned on and somebody broke off the knob. Until that night I saw those autistic kids on television, I don't think I'd ever been able to articulate clearly what I'd been experiencing for (then) 22 years. Life was too intense.
Now, if that's they way you've been since the day you were born, you may not be consciously aware of why you feel the way you do, or why you react to the everyday circumstances of life they way you do, but not knowing doesn't change the fact that it affects you - it affects how you interact with others, it affects your decision making processes and in doing so, to a large degree, it serves to form your very personality.
I think the ability to learn how to "filter out" a lot of that extraneous sensory stimuli is part of what allows some of us to be High Functioning - if I couldn't ignore a lot of it most of the time, I'd just sit in a corner all day and bang my head against a wall - and that's exactly what a lot of Low Functioning Autistics do. Most of the time I manage to put it aside and focus on more practical things, so that the sensory stuff becomes background noise - not lower, per se, but like the loud banging mechanical noises that factory workers learn to ignore, so they can do their jobs yet still hear each other talk. But it never goes away.
In fact, I've gotten so good at ignoring it, that sensory stimuli by itself rarely sends me into meltdown territory, it usually takes something else on top of it to put me over the edge, like being bullied or pushed around and verbally abused. But that doesn't mean it can't stress me out and get me completely discombobulated and disoriented, or cause me to spontaneously shut down and become nonverbal.
But on a daily basis, there are still lots of little things that can make life a living hell. I live in a lower floor apartment and my neighbors tromping across my ceiling makes me so miserable I wish I could afford to move to nice little rent house in the country. Strangers unexpectedly starting conversations with me makes me feel like someone is slapping me about the head and expecting me to think clearly. Today is a beautiful day and I opened my windows for the breeze and the fresh smelling air - and every time my neighbor's air conditioner kicks on, it sounds like grinding gears in a truck, sends an electric pulse right up my spine and sets my teeth on edge.
I'm just thankful I don't have a doorbell anymore. ![Rolling Eyes :roll:](./images/smilies/icon_rolleyes.gif)