The story of Gabby
For as long as I can remember, like, legitimately since I was a small child, I’ve been extremely bothered by the sound of eating. My little brother was always a loud eater, and it seemed like I was the only one who noticed. When we were little, I’d tell him to “stop smacking”, and I’d get in trouble for it, receiving the lecture of “he can eat however he wants”. Logically, of course, my parents were right. I felt bad for feeling so upset by a sound though. As I got older, that sensitivity only got worse, but I’d never say anything because I didn’t want to seem rude. I noticed the sounds of my mom eating, my brother, my grandmother, the sounds of them walking through the house and crunching ice. It got to the point where, even now, if I hear somebody walking toward the kitchen, I instinctively cover my ears because I know the sound of crunching is about to come. I can’t stand the sound of heavy breathing or of repeated tapping, sometimes singing can irritate me unless I’m singing too. My own favorite music can work my nerves if I’m not in the mood to hear it. The sounds of other people typing, sometimes even my own can drive me insane. Sometimes I avoid eating just so I don’t become self-aware and hear myself chew.Â
All my life, I’ve felt wrong. Weird. Rude. I’ve felt like I was an inconvenience to myself and those around me for having such sensitive hearing, so when I went online and found that there was actually a word for my condition and that I wasn’t alone, I felt beyond happy. I read other people’s experiences and their symptoms and found that I related to almost every single thing I read. I felt validated. I’m so glad there are other people like me. It feels weird saying that. Of course, I’m not glad other people suffer from such a torturous disorder, but you know what I mean. I’m glad there are others I can relate to and that I could confide in if I need to about my Misophonia. It feels good to know that I’m not just rude.Â