Multi-Sensory Environments Are No Joy When You’re Autistic
I recently wrote an article about ‘quiet hour’, an initiative in Australia (and probably other countries) where supermarkets and other public venues provide a low sensory environment for an hour a week. Some are providing it more frequently in December as a salve to the pre-Christmas madness.
Fluorescent lights are dimmed; noise from music, scanners, PA announcements and trolley gathering dialled down. Staff seem to be more attentive and accommodating. It’s a nice gesture from the corporates to say they’re thinking of our nervous systems, even if only once a week.
Initiatives like quiet hour have been branded as tokenistic window dressing but I think the reality is more complex. The problem is that in a multi-sensory environment like a supermarket or shopping centre, the potential sensory triggers are infinite and many of them difficult for anyone to control.
There are aspects of building design — the acoustics and the layout for example that are beyond the control of store management. In normal circumstance, they have no control over the number of people who come in or their behaviour. There’s nothing to stop people being loud or invading other people’s space. And there’s plenty of things that are just an inherent part of public places where people gather.
I think about my home environment. Much of the sensory input is within my control and the things that aren’t are usually singular and fleeting. That motorcycle revving up outside might make my heart race like a I’m about to be chased by a wild animal but it’s over in seconds. The leafblower might go for a bit longer but I can block it out with headphones or earplugs.
But multisensory environments don’t work like that. There’s not one single trigger. I don’t walk into a shop and immediately become aware of specific noises or sights or smells. It’s more like diving into a swirling pot of sensory inputs. The auditory processing disorder that is part of my autism package means that I’m not able to isolate the source of input or interpret it. My brain can’t make sense of it so it just hangs around together as a vaguely menacing presence. Like an obnoxious teenage gang following…
