Swimming above the water

I am autistic. In my case, as is often but not always, that comes with significant sensory processing disorder. I sense so many things deeply, often in ways that surprise and provoke outright hostile disbelief from the statistically more normative brains around me.

Autistics dealing with sensory overload can be sensory avoidant, trying to feel less by exposing ourselves to less, or sensory seeking, deliberately seeking maximum sensory input, usually in a controlled and self-guided way. The stereotype of us all wandering around in giant headphones shows this paradox: it is as likely silently off as it is blaring Scandinavian death metal.

Water has been a paradoxical sensory space for me my whole life. I was raised in a water-loving family, near a beach, with grandparents with a lake house, with a mother who self-identified as a fish, preferring water over land.

But it was a mixed experience for me. I feel at no greater peace than when floating surrounded by water. Yet the sensation of remaining wet even minutes after exiting the water is torturous to me. Floating in water is ethereal joy, but swishing board shorts hitting me over and over again in slightly new ways, creeping up and bunching unevenly, allegedly supportive mesh lining feeling like sandpaper against the very parts it “protected”…