Picture this: my partner is munching on a juicy blackberry just inches from me, and it sounds like a marching band in my ear. I lean back, shooting him a glare that could melt steel, and he knows he needs to quiet down pronto or I might just unleash my inner Hulk. Instead, he chuckles, leans in closer, crunches even louder, and teases that I’m the one losing it. I bolt from the room, heart racing. Clearly, it’s him who’s orchestrating this symphony of chaos!
I’ve been labeled “a bit eccentric” in social settings. A simple sneeze in the car sends me rolling down the window like I’m trying to escape a gas chamber. At Costco, if someone’s dragging their feet across the concrete, I feel queasy. And if I find myself wedged between enthusiastic popcorn munchers at the cinema? I’m practically ready to flee.
But, here’s the kicker: I’ve come to terms with my quirks, and I’m thrilled to embrace them.
It turns out, I have a genuine condition. Even Kelly Ripa, that famous talk show host, shared on national television that she suffers from misophonia. So it must be a real thing, right? Pronounced mis-oh-foh-niă, it translates to “hatred of sound.” It’s a neurological condition where particular noises evoke intense feelings of anger or disgust.
Kelly mentioned how she has to leave the house when her hubby eats a peach, and I was floored. All this time, I thought I was the only one cursed with a fruit-munching partner who drives me to distraction! I rushed to share my diagnosis with him.
“Who?” he asked, puzzled.
“Kelly Ripa! The soap opera star turned talk show queen! We’re basically soulmates—both ready to punch our husbands over their fruit choices!”
I explained that it’s a somewhat rare mental condition, so yes, he’s right—I am a bit “off.”
“Isn’t it fantastic?” I exclaimed. He just walked away, crunching almonds, while I contemplated a kitchen utensil that could silence him.
Convincing him of my struggle might be a lost cause, but I’ve dealt with this my whole life. Water running, pens clicking, nail clippers, humming, beeping, whistling—you name it, I’m probably cringing at it.
There are ways to manage the irritating sounds, but no need for earplugs here! I recently discovered I’m losing my hearing. At 44, the prospect of wearing hearing aids would send most into a spiral, but I’m genuinely relieved. I can just turn those suckers off when the noise becomes unbearable.
It’s likely genetic. Just a phone call to my older sister, rustling a plastic bag, and she’ll be hanging up faster than you can say “misophonia.” I’ll likely get a call back with her slurping cereal into the receiver.
As I chuckle at the absurdity of my hearing aids, I glance at my six-year-old daughter snuggled up next to me.
“Mom, can you stop breathing so loudly?” she whispers.
“Sorry, sweetheart! I totally get it,” I reply. “I’ll try to breathe in a more discreet direction. Or better yet, not at all.”
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Summary:
Misophonia is a real condition that causes intense irritation from specific sounds. The author humorously recounts her experiences with sound sensitivity, confirming that she’s not alone in her struggles, especially after hearing Kelly Ripa’s similar admission. The piece blends personal anecdotes with light-hearted humor, emphasizing the challenges of living with misophonia while navigating family life.