Re: Possibility?

September 24, 2011

I think you hit the nail on the head, bravo! When describing this condition to others I often say "I cannot filer out what your head filters out for you. I hear everything like it's right next to me, and you don't at ll or barely even notice it." People say, after I point things out,"It's contagious, now that you've pointed it out I can't stop hearing it." But an hour later at a new situation they wont hear it, unless I point it out, so they are indeed filtering it out. Got the following out of this article:http://dionysus.psych.wisc.edu/coursewebsites/Psy804/Readings/braff01.pdf"PPI is commonly viewed as an operational measure of a process called “sensorimotor gating”, by which excess or trivial stimuli are screened or “gated out” of awareness, so that an individual can focus attention on the most salient aspects of the stimulus-laden environment (Braff and Geyer 1990). Since the mid-1970s, cross-species translational studies of PPI have increased at an astounding pace (see Fig. 1) as the value of this neurobiologically informative measure has been optimized. ...From an historical perspective, theories at first focused on the concept that information is processed through a series or sequence of “steps” or “stages” in a framework of sequential processing of informational stimuli. These serial, hierarchically arranged operations were thought to occur at progressively “higher” sites in the central nervous system. Abnormalities of information processing were conceptualized as occurring at various stages, resulting in dysregulation and dysfunction across a spectrum of cognitive operations and associated behaviors (Braff et al. 1991)."

Is it possible that our issues with sound are the result of a problem with a pre-conscious sensory filter or "gate"?

As I understand it, people with "normal" sensory perception have a mechanism(s) that identifies, evaluates, and helps the brain decide whether to pay attention to incoming stimuli, BEFORE that stimuli comes to our conscious attention.

For those of us who suffer from soft sounds, eating sounds, and other "everyday" sounds, we have a compromised filter.

For example, with a properly functioning filter, the sound of gum being chewed would be identified by this filter, which "consults" with the brain on a pre-conscious or sub-conscious level to determine whether the noise warrants our attention. If it does deserve our attention, it "gets through" and we hear it. If it doesn't deserve our attention - i.e. no communication value, no threat to our safety, no relevance to whatever we're occupied with at the moment, etc - then the conscious brain simply tells the filter to ignore it, effectively blocking the noise from our attention, and the person is blissfully unaware of any gum-chewing noise.

But for someone with a filter that's not working, all input gets through - including the things we want to pay attention to, AND all the other stuff we don't want or need to pay attention to - including all the dolby-quality detail of gum being chewed.

Instead of hearing just the conversation at the dinner table, we're also hearing all the utensils, chewing, breathing, swallowing, gulping, lip smacking, chair shuffling, napkin rustling, etc.

When I'm really struggling with some particular noise, I have sometimes asked other people what they're experiencing. They almost always reply that they don't hear the sound I'm talking about - they just didn't hear it, weren't aware of it. Once I ask them about it, therefore bringing it to their attention, they say they hear it, but that they had not heard it until I brought it up. If I hadn't mentioned it, they'd never have known (consciously) that the sound was there. Some have gone on to describe that some noises, like eating noises, are annoying, like when someone chews especially loudly, but for the most part it's just an annoyance, and they can almost always "tune it out." I've asked people about eating noises, airplanes passing overhead, motorcycles going by in the street, music playing nearby, and other "everyday" sounds, and their replies are the same. Sounds that I find absolutely overwhelming and physically painful, are ignored - not even consciously heard - by other people.

I think people with "normal" hearing don't LIKE eating noises - they simply don't notice them, and are therefore not bothered by them. Their pre-conscious filter "hears" the noises, identifies them as irrelevant / non-threatening / not worthy of attention, and simply ignores them. At the same time, that filter mechanism "hears" words and conversation, identifies them as relevant / worthwhile, and allows them to pass through to the person's conscious attention.

It seems likely that more people than just "us" are annoyed by the sound of someone popping their gum. I'd say that's a case where the noise is forceful enough to "get through" a healthy functioning filter, reaching someone's conscious attention, and irritating them accordingly.

I've sometimes tried to explain that for me, there is no such thing as "background" noise - it's all totally present, with the sound of someone crunching potato chips "equally present" with the sound of the words they're saying. Without a filter, it all comes through, all full-volume, resulting in a constant sensory assault that sends us running for any quiet space we can find.

Understandably, it's hard for people with a working filter to comprehend what it's like to be without one. But I'd bet that if they didn't have their filter, and they were conscious of all the sensory input they receive, all day, every day, with no control over the volume, no on/off switch, they'd be overwhelmed, too.

I've seen a few stories describing how sound-sensitive people aren't always bothered at first by new sounds. I think that makes sense with this idea of a filter, because new sounds haven't yet become relentless, constant input that we can't tune-out. But after a while, the new-ness wears off, and we realize that this new noise, even if it's associated with a person or a place or an activity we like, is equally relentless - it takes our attention, joins in with all the other noise we receive, and adds to the already-overwhelming amount of input.

Even the most enjoyable input in the world becomes an assault when we can't turn it off. Chocolate is great. But if someone were to force-feed me chocolate, any time and all the time, with no warning or preparation, regardless of whether I was awake or asleep, or eating something else already, or brushing my teeth, or using my mouth to have a conversation, then the very idea of chocolate would get repulsive, and I'd want - need - to be able to turn it off, to stop the chocolate, to protect myself from the constant relentless overwhelming assault of chocolate . . . the same way so many of us describe the urgent need to just make the noise stop. It invades us, we don't have the ability to turn it off, we can't control it, we are made to suffer it, and that's why it becomes enraging. We don't have any issue with chocolate itself, and we don't have any issue with a family member or their enjoyment of an apple. We do have an issue with the fact that the noise of the apple being eaten becomes a physical, ongoing violation of our physical senses, it goes right to the core of our attention, and we are powerless to do anything about it, except to leave for someplace with less noise, or insert the highest-rated earplugs we can find, or bury our head and ears in our hands to defend against the invasion of the noise.

On one hand, we recognize that it is unintentional - people aren't doing this to us on purpose (with the exception of the sick ratfinks that observe us struggling with a particular noise and so do more of it for the enjoyment of watching us suffer . . . but I digress . . . ). On the other hand, the unintentional nature of it makes it all the more frustrating - this thing that is a painful experience to us, isn't even given a second thought by the people doing it. When someone throws a rock at another person, it's a pretty clear attempt to harm, and the rock-thrower is aware the rock might hurt their target. But "everyday noises" are different - it's a pretty big challenge just to explain to family members and coworkers that their innocent activities are comparable to physically throwing things at us.

Like many here, I'm sure, I've tried to describe my experience to a variety of health care providers - audiologists, neurologists, ENT's, general practice MD's, psychologists, psychiatrists, alternative practitioners, and others. They're generally baffled, understandably.

But I'm hoping that the description I'm posting here might be found by a neuro/aud/MD or others with an understanding of the process I've described, this idea of a pre-conscious "filter" or gating mechanism . . . and perhaps they can name it by its correct name, if there is one . . . and perhaps consider the likelihood of a genetic influence, as our condition appears to maybe have . . . and the changes in the brain / body that take place during the range of years that many of us seemed to being experiencing it (roughly 7-13?).

I'm inclined to think the origins are physical, rather than psychological. i.e. the absence of a filter creates a physical experience which causes stress and therefore has psychological, emotional, social effects . . . rather than the idea that we've all had some experience(s) of such intense emotional difficulty that we have developed intense responses to certain noises, perhaps including the breakdown of our filter . . . but I'm curious to read others' thoughts about it.

Please forgive the long ramble . . . saved up lots to say with no place to say it, until now. And if it's already been addressed elsewhere in the group, apologies for the redundant post. Either way, THANK YOU for this forum.

- Unfiltered.

September 24, 2011

Hmmmm...I just say it causes me great pain and violence feeling. If I tell them

while crying they see how serious it is. Most understand when I say it makes me

feel pain. I can't say it's physical pain to resist using any violence. I feel

much better if I use violence, which has been years. Anyway, I think you are

right. Sorry, I get off track a lot.

>

> > Is it possible that our issues with sound are the result of a problem with a

pre-conscious sensory filter or " gate " ?

> >

> > As I understand it, people with " normal " sensory perception have a

mechanism(s) that identifies, evaluates, and helps the brain decide whether to

pay attention to incoming stimuli, BEFORE that stimuli comes to our conscious

attention.

> >

> > For those of us who suffer from soft sounds, eating sounds, and other

" everyday " sounds, we have a compromised filter.

> >

> > For example, with a properly functioning filter, the sound of gum being

chewed would be identified by this filter, which " consults " with the brain on a

pre-conscious or sub-conscious level to determine whether the noise warrants our

attention. If it does deserve our attention, it " gets through " and we hear it.

If it doesn't deserve our attention - i.e. no communication value, no threat to

our safety, no relevance to whatever we're occupied with at the moment, etc -

then the conscious brain simply tells the filter to ignore it, effectively

blocking the noise from our attention, and the person is blissfully unaware of

any gum-chewing noise.

> >

> > But for someone with a filter that's not working, all input gets through -

including the things we want to pay attention to, AND all the other stuff we

don't want or need to pay attention to - including all the dolby-quality detail

of gum being chewed.

> >

> > Instead of hearing just the conversation at the dinner table, we're also

hearing all the utensils, chewing, breathing, swallowing, gulping, lip smacking,

chair shuffling, napkin rustling, etc.

> >

> > When I'm really struggling with some particular noise, I have sometimes

asked other people what they're experiencing. They almost always reply that they

don't hear the sound I'm talking about - they just didn't hear it, weren't aware

of it. Once I ask them about it, therefore bringing it to their attention, they

say they hear it, but that they had not heard it until I brought it up. If I

hadn't mentioned it, they'd never have known (consciously) that the sound was

there. Some have gone on to describe that some noises, like eating noises, are

annoying, like when someone chews especially loudly, but for the most part it's

just an annoyance, and they can almost always " tune it out. " I've asked people

about eating noises, airplanes passing overhead, motorcycles going by in the

street, music playing nearby, and other " everyday " sounds, and their replies are

the same. Sounds that I find absolutely overwhelming and physically painful, are

ignored - not even consciously heard - by other people.

> >

> > I think people with " normal " hearing don't LIKE eating noises - they simply

don't notice them, and are therefore not bothered by them. Their pre-conscious

filter " hears " the noises, identifies them as irrelevant / non-threatening / not

worthy of attention, and simply ignores them. At the same time, that filter

mechanism " hears " words and conversation, identifies them as relevant /

worthwhile, and allows them to pass through to the person's conscious attention.

> >

> > It seems likely that more people than just " us " are annoyed by the sound of

someone popping their gum. I'd say that's a case where the noise is forceful

enough to " get through " a healthy functioning filter, reaching someone's

conscious attention, and irritating them accordingly.

> >

> > I've sometimes tried to explain that for me, there is no such thing as

" background " noise - it's all totally present, with the sound of someone

crunching potato chips " equally present " with the sound of the words they're

saying. Without a filter, it all comes through, all full-volume, resulting in a

constant sensory assault that sends us running for any quiet space we can find.

> >

> > Understandably, it's hard for people with a working filter to comprehend

what it's like to be without one. But I'd bet that if they didn't have their

filter, and they were conscious of all the sensory input they receive, all day,

every day, with no control over the volume, no on/off switch, they'd be

overwhelmed, too.

> >

> > I've seen a few stories describing how sound-sensitive people aren't always

bothered at first by new sounds. I think that makes sense with this idea of a

filter, because new sounds haven't yet become relentless, constant input that we

can't tune-out. But after a while, the new-ness wears off, and we realize that

this new noise, even if it's associated with a person or a place or an activity

we like, is equally relentless - it takes our attention, joins in with all the

other noise we receive, and adds to the already-overwhelming amount of input.

> >

> > Even the most enjoyable input in the world becomes an assault when we can't

turn it off. Chocolate is great. But if someone were to force-feed me chocolate,

any time and all the time, with no warning or preparation, regardless of whether

I was awake or asleep, or eating something else already, or brushing my teeth,

or using my mouth to have a conversation, then the very idea of chocolate would

get repulsive, and I'd want - need - to be able to turn it off, to stop the

chocolate, to protect myself from the constant relentless overwhelming assault

of chocolate . . . the same way so many of us describe the urgent need to just

make the noise stop. It invades us, we don't have the ability to turn it off, we

can't control it, we are made to suffer it, and that's why it becomes enraging.

We don't have any issue with chocolate itself, and we don't have any issue with

a family member or their enjoyment of an apple. We do have an issue with the

fact that the noise of the apple being eaten becomes a physical, ongoing

violation of our physical senses, it goes right to the core of our attention,

and we are powerless to do anything about it, except to leave for someplace with

less noise, or insert the highest-rated earplugs we can find, or bury our head

and ears in our hands to defend against the invasion of the noise.

> >

> > On one hand, we recognize that it is unintentional - people aren't doing

this to us on purpose (with the exception of the sick ratfinks that observe us

struggling with a particular noise and so do more of it for the enjoyment of

watching us suffer . . . but I digress . . . ). On the other hand, the

unintentional nature of it makes it all the more frustrating - this thing that

is a painful experience to us, isn't even given a second thought by the people

doing it. When someone throws a rock at another person, it's a pretty clear

attempt to harm, and the rock-thrower is aware the rock might hurt their target.

But " everyday noises " are different - it's a pretty big challenge just to

explain to family members and coworkers that their innocent activities are

comparable to physically throwing things at us.

> >

> > Like many here, I'm sure, I've tried to describe my experience to a variety

of health care providers - audiologists, neurologists, ENT's, general practice

MD's, psychologists, psychiatrists, alternative practitioners, and others.

They're generally baffled, understandably.

> >

> > But I'm hoping that the description I'm posting here might be found by a

neuro/aud/MD or others with an understanding of the process I've described, this

idea of a pre-conscious " filter " or gating mechanism . . . and perhaps they can

name it by its correct name, if there is one . . . and perhaps consider the

likelihood of a genetic influence, as our condition appears to maybe have . . .

and the changes in the brain / body that take place during the range of years

that many of us seemed to being experiencing it (roughly 7-13?).

> >

> > I'm inclined to think the origins are physical, rather than psychological.

i.e. the absence of a filter creates a physical experience which causes stress

and therefore has psychological, emotional, social effects . . . rather than the

idea that we've all had some experience(s) of such intense emotional difficulty

that we have developed intense responses to certain noises, perhaps including

the breakdown of our filter . . . but I'm curious to read others' thoughts about

it.

> >

> > Please forgive the long ramble . . . saved up lots to say with no place to

say it, until now. And if it's already been addressed elsewhere in the group,

apologies for the redundant post. Either way, THANK YOU for this forum.

> >

> > - Unfiltered.

> >

>

September 24, 2011

YES! The otoneurologist I've been trying to work with asked me to record the

troublesome sounds blah blah blah and they'll see what about them is so

troublesome. I had to explain (again) IT'S NOT THE SOUNDS!!! That's why so

many people don't get it. It's the repetition AND the filter . . .

Here's what I wrote:

" I am willing to participate in this exercise (would you please have someone

tell me what the approximate cost would be) but I am afraid we'll be doing

something for the sake of doing something and we're missing the point.

Here's why I say that:

Even though a Misophonics' complaint is about sounds, it's really not the sounds

themselves: it's the repetition. Nothing is a trigger the first time it's

encountered. The problem is not the sound per se, it's that the Misophonic

cannot habituate: we become sensitized and it becomes a trigger. Misophonics

have the same trigger sounds because those are the sounds that are repeated. I

do not know of anyone who has an aversion to a single beeping car horn. But

when the beeping is repeated it becomes troublesome. To a Misophonic, the

repeated sound will become a rage-and-panic-inducing trigger.

This approach also completely bypasses the issue of visual triggers (one of my

very first triggers was visual and long before many of my auditory triggers came

to be). Many of us have visual triggers such as foot swinging, face touching,

nail biting: things that are repeated.

And it misses the fact that triggers are not static. Once in place they stay,

but triggers are added over time as the particular stimulus is repeated

frequently enough.

So to examine sounds, discover their components and determine their similarities

is, I think, off the mark. "

****ADDENDUM here: Giving more thought to why babies' sounds don't " hurt " has

nothing to do with the power of maternal love. Babies' sounds change frequently

as they develop. When they become children and their sounds beome repeatable

they start being triggers. Sound about right?

(pardon for truncating first message . . . )