There is a sound that can ruin my entire day. Yours probably wouldn’t even register it.
I have misophonia.
Which sounds dramatic until you realise it just means that certain sounds — specifically other people eating, clanging, repetitive tapping, or basically existing loudly near me — make me want to quietly leave my own life for a moment.
It’s not a mood. It’s not me being difficult. It is, apparently, an actual neurological thing, which is both validating and completely useless when someone sits next to you with a bag of crisps.
Now, I should clarify — I am not naturally a patient person. Patience is one of those fruits of the Holy Spirit that God is very much still working on in me. It is a process. A long one. And situations like these are not helping.
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Everything can be completely calm.
Peaceful, even.
The kind of quiet where nothing feels rushed and everything just… settles.
You’re watching something nice.
Or sitting somewhere quiet.
Or just existing without any particular issue.
And then someone starts eating.
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It’s not gradual.
There’s no gentle build-up.
It’s like something in your brain just switches.
Suddenly, you can’t concentrate on anything else.
Not the film.
Not the conversation.
Not even your own thoughts.
Not Just… crunching, lips smacking or like your food is doing the world tour in your mouth before swallowing. My Dad does that and at these times, our relationship level is at best, questionable! In fact every relationship is.
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And it’s not just “a bit annoying.”
That would be manageable.
This is the kind of irritation that feels completely disproportionate and yet — at the exact same time — entirely justified.
You become hyper-aware.
Why is it so loud?
Why is it that loud?
Has it always sounded like that?
Surely it hasn’t always sounded like that.
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And the worst part?
You know it’s irrational.
You are fully aware that this is a completely normal human activity.
People eat.
They’re allowed to eat.
They’re not doing anything wrong.
And yet internally, you have transformed into something that could only be described as a mildly restrained rage monster.
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I don’t say anything. Usually.
Out loud, I remain civil — right up until the point where my nervous system decides that civility is no longer a viable option.
At which point, all bets are off.
(See: the Doritos incident.)
But internally, even on the quieter days, there is a whole negotiation happening between
“be a reasonable person”
and
“please, for the love of all that is good, stop chewing like that.”
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The worst example of this happened in a library.
A library. The internationally recognised sanctuary of silence. The operating theatre of academic thought.
I was studying for my dissertation. This required, at minimum, the kind of quiet usually reserved for lunar surfaces and very serious doctors.
And then the man next to me opened a bag of Doritos.
Doritos.
I turned and looked at him. If you have misophonia, you will know exactly what that look is. It is not aggressive. It is not rude. It is simply a look that communicates, without any words at all, the complete and total collapse of your inner world.
He saw the look. He acknowledged the look.
And then he continued eating.
So I leaned over and said — very calmly —
“Doritos?!”
And then: “What is this, a picnic?!”
He stopped eating.
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What makes it even more ridiculous is this:
If I am eating at the same time… it’s absolutely fine.
No issue at all.
Apparently, the solution to the problem is simply that I must also be involved in the eating.
Which, as Blod once pointed out, feels somewhat unfair.
“So it’s fine if you eat, but not if I do?”
Correct.
That is, unfortunately, exactly how it works.
I didn’t design it. I just live with it.
You know who can eat without triggering my internal meltdown though?
My dog Zeb
Zeb, who eats like he’s in a competition and the prize is making as much noise as humanly-
or should I say, caninely-possible.
Completely fine. Not a flicker of rage. Not a single twitch.
I have no explanation for this. My nervous system apparently has a “dog clause” built in somewhere that nobody told me about.
Blod finds this fascinating. I on the other hand would find it deeply personally offensive.
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Blod made a quiet and life-altering decision early on in our relationship — that eating crisps during a film was perhaps not worth the consequences.
This was during the dating phase.
The fact that he still married me after witnessing the look in its natural habitat is something I find both touching and mildly surprising.
Occasionally, he forgets.
Hunger, I suppose, does something to a person’s memory.
And then he remembers again — usually around the time I’ve gone very quiet, or started pressing Blu-tack into my ears with the focused calm of someone who is absolutely not calm.
That is love, actually. Documented and real.
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It’s not limited to eating, either.
Clanging. Repetitive tapping. Someone doing the same small sound over and over in a place that’s supposed to be quiet.
It all qualifies.
Which is why I cannot attend church connect groups when food is involved.
I have tried.
I become a version of myself that I don’t particularly enjoy. Internally unravelling while outwardly attempting to look like someone who is fine and engaged and not at all being destroyed by the sound of someone’s wrap.
It is exhausting.
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And then there are the people who don’t quite understand it.
“It’s only crisps.”
Yes.
I know.
Logically, I am aware that it is only crisps.
Unfortunately, my nervous system appears to have interpreted it as something far more serious.
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The strangest part is how instant it is.
One moment: a calm, relaxed, reasonable human being.
Next moment: internally calculating how quickly you can leave the situation without drawing attention to yourself.
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It’s not a personality flaw.
It’s not even really a preference.
It’s more like a very specific, slightly inconvenient wiring issue that occasionally turns something completely normal into something… not quite so manageable.
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So if you ever notice someone go very quiet the moment you open a snack…
Or reach for earplugs — or Blu-tack, we’re not fussy — with the quiet focus of someone defusing a bomb…
Or suddenly remember they urgently need to be in a different room…
Be kind to them or run. Either works.
Maybe even offer them some of your food.
We realise this is not exactly preferable.
Especially if it’s soup.
But we didn’t choose this. We are doing our best to avoid incarceration.
