Though sensory sensitivities and sensory seeking behaviors are hallmarks of autism, there aren’t many articles describing what they feel like. Articles will give lists of sensory seeking activities, or advise parents on how to accommodate their autistic child’s sensory sensitivities, or go over what it feels like to the autistic person in very general terms (i.e., “Sensitivities to sights feel like _______”). But they won’t often talk in detail about what it’s like for the autistic person.
This can make researching for an autistic character, particularly an autistic character with a point of view, challenging.
This is where I come in. Let me tell you what things are like from my end.
Sight
Many autistic people have sensitivities to certain sights. For example, blue lightbulbs can make it difficult for certain autistic people to concentrate. Or the bright rainbow colors of typical “autism awareness” media can be painful to look at. For sensory seeking of sights, this can be enjoying looking at certain patterns or aesthetics; autistic people want to experience them.
For me, I don’t notice my sensory sensitivities to sights consciously. Looking at certain lights or colors doesn’t hurt. However, I feel calmer, more at ease, when a room is dim, which can help me lower my anxiety or recover from a meltdown.
For sensory seeking, I love looking at bright colors, interesting patterns, and sparkles. Most of my clothes are sparkly to some degree, and if they’re not, they’re typically a cool color or pattern. I don’t wear typical graphic brand T-shirts because to me they’re boring. They’re just a plain color with a small logo on it. Not exciting enough for me to want to adorn myself with it. As a non-clothing example, I put up rainbow butterflies and tissue paper flowers all over my room because it makes me happier and feel more at home. My current laptop wallpaper is also rainbow and sparkly-looking, an explosion of bright bubbles and glitter against a black background for more contrast. It brings me joy to see such beauty.
Sound
A lot of autistic people are sensitive to loud sounds. It doesn’t take as loud of a volume to hurt their ears as allistic, or non-autistic people. And some autistic people can enjoy and seek out loud sounds; even those who are generally sensitive to them can sometimes enjoy blasting music through their headphones in their room.
For me, I’m not quite as sensitive to sounds as others, but I still hate loud noises. That Salvation Army bell ringing is piercing when I get close, and certain fire alarms are loud enough I have to try to cover my ears while I scramble to get my things and leave. Not only that, but loud sounds can also startle and scare me easily. The summer before I turned 12, I fractured my left pinky because of a fire alarm. It scared me so bad that I lost control of myself and slammed my finger against the railing as I scrambled to get down the stairs. As a different example, the other week the wind was so loud when I stepped outside to go to aerial that it felt like something bad was going to happen—the loud sound felt like a warning. Nothing did happen, but I stood at the door for a minute as my heart filled with panic.
As for sensory seeking, I love to listen to music loud with my headphones. It helps me feel immersed in the sound, in the world of my daydreams where the music is the soundtrack. I don’t listen to it so loud that it hurts my ears, but enough that it envelopes me.
Smell
Some autistic people are sensitive to smells. They can hardly be in a room with a strong scent, for example, because it causes too much distress. On the other hand, some autistic people really like strong smells and smelling things.
There are very few smells I don’t like. I even like the smell of smoke and don’t think skunks smell that bad. There are even fewer scents that super ick me—namely, just the tar they use to pave roads. I can drive past it, but I avoid staying there for an extended period of time.
Instead, I really enjoy smelling things. I smell every bathroom soap I come across no matter how dingey and run-down the facility, because I could be missing out on a great experience. I smell my mom’s candle on the counter almost every single time I pass it. I even keep multiple scented products on my desk so I can smell them when I want. Smelling scents makes me happy. It can even help ease my anxiety, making me breathe in deeply and getting my mind to focus on a scent.
Taste
There’s a bit of a dichotomy among autistic people who are particular with their food: they either love bland food and can’t stand super flavorful food, or can’t stand bland food and love super flavorful food. Not every autistic person falls into this, but it’s common to be toward one end or the other. This among other things means that there’s a lot of diversity in foods an autistic person will and won’t eat.
I’m a “my food must have a lot of flavor” autistic. I love spicy food, blue cheese, green olives, and flavorful broth and sauces. I don’t like whipped cream or those light-tasting melons. However, I also don’t like a lot of foods that fall into the “a lot of flavor” category, like many kinds of vegetables, because I still don’t like the taste of them. For me, however, the food’s flavor is often more of a preference than a hard rule. I avoid a lot of the foods that I don’t like the taste of, but I feel that if I exposed myself to it enough, I could get used to eating a lot of it.
But along with taste, autistic people take a food’s texture into consideration. One common texture some autistic individuals won’t eat is “squishy” food. This can include things like apple sauce, pudding, and oranges. Though of course, any autistic person can have any food texture that squicks them out.
For me, a food’s texture creates a hard rule of whether or not I’ll eat it. I actually didn’t eat baby food (a “squishy” food) as a baby because I’d always gag it up, no matter what flavor my parents tried. Though I got feeding therapy because of that, I still physically can’t make myself eat squishy foods like oranges and pineapples. I like their tastes, but not their texture, so I eat dried versions.
Some autistic people have little problem eating foods no matter the taste or texture, however.
With the tastes and textures I enjoy, I’m very sensory-seeking. I love to eat foods I love. Sometimes I’ll stare at pictures of a food I really want to try, long for, and feel a little tense that I can’t eat it right then. I enjoy trying new foods that look good, but it can be difficult for me to find new foods that don’t go against my taste or texture icks.
Touch
A lot of autistic people don’t like being touched by others because it can feel painful, intrusive, or just uncomfortable.
I personally don’t find general physical contact uncomfortable, but I’ve been told I jump when someone touches me unexpectedly. I experience touch more intensely than others. I also don’t get anything out of hugs, though, unless it’s a younger sibling or someone I have a crush on. Hugging is just a neutral thing that other people like, so I’ll let them do it.
Along with that, many autistic people can’t stand feeling certain textures. They may not be able to concentrate well with tags in their clothes, or have only a small number of fabrics that feel comfortable to them. They can also have textures they can’t stand feeling that aren’t clothing-related.
I personally have minor aversions to clothing. One has to do with scratchiness. If I’m buying a shirt, I have to stick my arm in the armhole before I do so, because certain shirts, particularly sparkly sweaters, can feel scratchy to me. The other is socks. Unless they’re fluffy, I find them uncomfortable. It was only after my diagnosis that I realized how much I’ve been unconsciously avoiding wearing them. I wear sandals in the summer, furred boots in the winter, and fluffy crocs in the in-between weather—none of which require socks. When I do wear socks, I can feel all their little threads digging into my feet. So I only wear them when I need to, which is primarily when doing athletic activities. As far as other textures, I can cringe on the spot by revisiting memories where I had to feel something that felt like canvas—canvas itself, those brown scratchy napkins I find in fast food places, or jeans. I’m fine wearing jeans, but running my hand along them makes me cringe with the “wrong” feeling.
On the flip side, there are a lot of autistic people who love getting other kinds of tactile feedback. They find the textures or experiences comforting and just nice to feel.
I, for instance, like being squeezed. I like getting in small spaces, such as wrapping myself up in a blanket and pushing myself against the wall beside my bed. I also like how vests feel on me, as they squeeze me as well. That whole sensation is enjoyable, a nice pressure, and also helps me replenish, recharge, after a meltdown. It can also help me feel more grounded.
Sensory sensitivities and sensory seeking behaviors are often big parts of autism. Like stimming, sensory differences are one of four subcategories you need two out of to get the diagnosis. It’s therefore important to understand these behaviors when writing an autistic character. Autistic people can be sensory sensitive, sensory seeking, or both in any or all the senses. The experiences weave together to form the person’s unique place on the spectrum. So don’t just rely on articles that use vague descriptions and short lists of stereotypical behaviors. Learn from other real autistic people what it’s like for them.
You’re on your way to creating a great character.
I offer sensitivity reading services for autism, anxiety, OCD, and other related topics. Click here to learn more! Additionally, if you’d like to read my article on what stimming is like, you can find that here.
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