Halloween and
the Sensory World are often a marriage made in hell.
Do you agree?
Is this too strong a way to put it?
As the mom of
a teen on the Autism Spectrum, tell me you disagree – I can take it. But give
me a moment before you do.
Live in my
house during the last few weeks of October. Shop with me at the party store
late August – or the grocery store in September. Watch my kid try her best not
to go to bed with nightmares.
(And people
think the winter holiday images are offensive…)
For many,
what awakens the senses this time of year is precisely what draws them to it.
The sounds, eerie lighting, the chance to be something graphic and provoking -
and all else that goes with it. But for many on the Autism Spectrum, and those
with Sensory Processing Disorder, in particular, this time of year is nothing
short of a nightmare come true.
Much of it
comes down to their interpretation of the sensory world around them. Just as
the sights and sounds draw people to this month, the flickering lights in
orange and purple, the echoing screams broadcast in stores and throughout many
neighborhoods, and the gory imagery make many very uncomfortable and much more
than scared. They become terrified.
They shake.
They cry. They cover their ears and eyes as they go aisle to aisle, and as they
participate in school parades, eyes often downcast if gory costumes are allowed.
And they ask
why so many are so excited to celebrate things we are told to fight against:
murder, death and gore.
And I have no
answer.
And not
everyone celebrates in this way.
It’s hard to
put experiences of these kids into words if you don’t know anyone who feels
this way. Who sees the world with a sensory eye. Who thinks in color, in
images, often with a constant video stream running through the mind. For many
visual people, excessive imagery and sounds really can be too much to bear.
Couple this
with a gap between IQ and EQ (that’s our emotional age, per se), and this time
of year easily overloads.
Yes, this is
a rant, but it’s a rant with a point. A rant from a mom who has seen all too
many Octobers end in sweat and tears from a young girl, counting down the hours
for the images, sounds and textures to be put away for another year.
I’m not
asking it be stopped. I’m asking for some to consider looking at it through
someone else’s eyes.
Rather, if a
kid stops by Monday evening, and seems overwhelmed, please, be sensitive. Not
all kids like a plastic severed hand in the candy dish. Don’t make them go
through sensory hoops just to get a sweet. Hand it to them with a real hand.
Smile at
them, and compliment them on their costumes. Even if they don’t smile back. It
just might give them the juice to knock on the door of the next house before
they turn in for the night.
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