I’m beginning to sense that in synesthesia lies the key of so many aspects of my long running chronic pain. If I could only gain a better viewpoint of what actually happens to me when I sense things, I suspect I might be able to catch a glimpse (like some sideways-on reflection of myself reflected back at me in a shop window) of some of the causative aspects of pain where no other provocation for pain seems to exist. This feels like a worthwhile line of enquiry for anyone who is neurodivergent and weary of how unusual levels of pain never seem to abate, especially as I think it is possible to have one of the less talked-about versions of synesthesia and not even realise it since it is your version of normal.

In my case, I’m beginning to wonder how much of it has to do with mirror touch synesthesia, the implications of which are far more complicated than they might seem through the eyes of what we think we know about “empathy”. This trait has been called “super-empathy” or even “compulsory mindfulness” (Joel Salinas) and with it comes such a lot of potential for overwhelm and unimaginable pain, as I wrote about last time, but could I also hope to scrape through the hard surface to find the gift in it, if I try hard enough to see it for all that it is?

I also suspect that so much of my struggle is to do with the way energies translate into shapes/tactile phenomena in my reality since it means that anything I sense to be there, visible or not, has the ability to morph into forms that torment. For instance this morning the chilly air in the house already feels sharp like granules of rock and small triangles flying at me as from a windscreen shattered in a head-on collision, then draining the orange-mango juice (which I had lately been enjoying) significantly exacerbated this as it too is so sharp, though in a different way more like one giant shard of glass broken from a smashed mirror entering my gut and then spreading out into my nervous in a zillion pieces of referred sharpness, so now I feel jabbed with pain inside and out. Herein lies my aversion to sugary treats (even though I can tolerate them just fine in summer) when the synesthesia effect of sugar is added to the synesthesia effect of penetrative cold sensations felt via skin and bone as the seasons change. More importantly (given this is just one of countless examples) here potentially lies the source of just so many triggers to pain that I can hardly describe to myself, without feeling delusional, let alone to other people!

Also, considering wifi, the presence of which always amps up my pain quota by such a considerable amount, is my quite literally uncomfortable relationship with that a version of mirror touch again? Am I feeling the “chord” (discord) of human distress, in its wavelengths; have they somehow managed to crack the very number on the frequency dial that most closely equates with human existential pain (they say 5G evolved out of weaponised radar equipment) or is it that wifi carries the emotional energy of all the humans that dial into it, concentrating and invisibly distributing their emotions far and wide yet somehow felt as a tactile sense by me? If that sounds too weird to be feasible, has my shape-obsessed synesthetic brain (as with “cold” and “sugar”) also translated this phenomenon into granular, painful, form which, unlike those other two triggers, I can do very little to avoid and which has an emotional component to it that I struggle to describe except that it leaves me feeling aggravated and off-centre? Could I try to use my imagination to change the sensory association it has or is this hard-wired and immutable? For instance, if wifi is like tiny rocks exploding at my body and grinding into my flesh and bluetooth is like granular glass (the sharper, more “stinging” version) peppering my head and neck, could I work at imagining them passing through some sort of filter before they get to me so that they become sheathed in gummy coating that makes them as harmless as jelly beans, or could I imagine them being filtered out of my experience altogether (the latter seems less likely since I can’t sustainably deny that I can feel these sensations…and my brain is lifelong weary of being told to ignore inconvenient things or to pretend things are other than how they really present to me, just to so-conveniently conform to the neurotypical consensus of “what is”).

Is all this to do with being boundaryless, are my thin (or near to nonexistent…) boundaries the very root cause of my pain (psychologist Michael Jawer writes a lot on this topic of thin-boundaried people, if you want to look him up)? Does this easy translation of one sense into another reflect how there can be no blocking, no filtering, no hiding where my version of neurodiverse sensation is concerned…since all sensations in the world, likely the universe, have easy access to me and the best I can hope to do is deflect by distraction or by softening (like the jelly bean thing) the somatic form that it takes as it enters my field of awareness? Is this why my entire nervous system is dead-beaten with fatigue and in a state of near constant overwhelm and pain? Is this the real cause of a lifetime’s worth of sensory hypervigilance, being my body’s vain effort to at least try to predict and prepare for whatever sensory assault is next coming my way (none of this hypervigilance evident at the conscious level but played out in the ceaseless drama of my sensations)? Unbounded sensations are an almost intolerable thing to live with and I am suddenly impressed that I have managed to mitigate my experience of them enough to cope even as much as I have these several decades, especially when I was a child with no one to relate to my experiences. At least I now know I am not alone in this degree of sensory sensitivity and related distress since I am getting far better at locating my neurodivergent peers, people I can take comfort from hearing share their stories that overlap with mine, if rather later in life than was ideal.

So, here’s another line of enquiry, does my entire neurodiverse “system” have an increased fear of laxity in all its forms, even “relaxation”, being equated with being “off guard” thus the potential for even more sensations to be allowed in than those I am already struggling to cope? Is pain the result of my body “clamping down” in an attempt to enforce a makeshift boundary when no other really exists, like tensing up before you hit the ground? When my body becomes more lax, for any reason at all, does it instinctively pull out all the stops to tighten-up its defences even more, the reasons for so much rigidity and pain following anything that increases ease such as meditation or massage, deep sleep, a hot bath, a warm hug, a relaxing holiday or a good time where I forget all my cares; a rebound effect that has led to an ingrained wariness of the above? Is this why my entire system is always “switched on”, unable to surrender to relaxation for more than the briefest time? I’ve noticed how, now that I’m taking l tryptophan to boost serotonin before bed, I go off into a much deeper, dreaming states overnight and really ought to be reaping the physical benefits of far better rest and recuperation by now…except, when I wake up, I find myself locked into even more muscular contraction, spasm and nerve pain than ever these mornings and have to talk my rigidity down from the edge of the wall for half my day. Is this why relaxation in all its forms evades me since there is always some inbuilt mechanism that would drag me away from its comfort, in completely the opposite direction, back to the very precipice of pain, torsion and stress?

So, I imagine there is no quick conclusion to this enquiry, it may even be a lifetime’s work but I am finally prepared to lift the bonnet and ask some of the pokier questions about synesthetic wiring, to compare some notes and see what emerges in my innate sense of knowing once I stop rebuffing the topic out of fear of discovering that I in fact have no “skin” (in the nueorotypical sense) to protect me from the slings and arrows of sensation because I am apparently wired without one. I spent most of my life assuming everyone else felt as much as I do but was so much better at handling it; now I know better, that not everyone else feels this much at all!

The very first steps of my enquiry, directing me to podcasts such as “Let’s Talk Synesthesia“and the book below by Joel Salinas, have reminded me that, though I am in a minuscule percentage, I am not alone in all of this, which helps enormously as I set off on my quest. I will no doubt report back at various stages of self-enlightenment as the topic unravels some more.

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First stop on my reading list: “Mirror Touch: Notes from a Doctor Who Can Feel Your Pain – Joel Salinas.

As well as sharing his own experiences as a doctor, with mirror touch synesthesia, who can feel his own patients’ pain, Salinas uses his experience as a neurologist and synesthete to relate to stories of other individuals who live in a heightened state of awareness. I’ve heard other synesthetes describe how incredibly helpful this book has been to them and look forward to exploring this for myself.