Too Sensitive My Arse
Understanding my sensory sensitivities as a neurodivergent, hormonal, forty-something woman
I cut the labels out of all my clothes.
I can’t stand the smell of bath bombs.
And noisy environments? I really fucking struggle with. Especially when there are lots of different sounds competing at once.
I’ve talked before about my sensitivity to noise on facebook, but I wanted to go a bit deeper and explore the other sensitivities too in a longer post.
Why? Because every time I share something like this, someone messages me to say, “Oh my god, me too—I thought it was just me.”
And honestly, that’s why I do it.
Because there’s comfort in knowing you’re not alone.
And I know there’s someone out there—maybe right at the start of figuring themselves out—who’ll recognise a bit of their own story in mine.
A few things before we start…
I’m not officially diagnosed with anything (ie Autism), which is why I don’t label myself that way. I tend to use neurodivergent—because it helps me to understand (and explain)—my brain just works differently.
And before anyone starts diving into definitions or saying “we’re all a little autistic”—that’s not what this post is about.
This isn’t a debate.
It’s a personal share.
I just want to talk about my sensory sensitivities—what they look like, how they affect me, why they matter and how I’m learning to deal with them.
Anyways…
Filtering
That’s the key with these things—the filtering.
The outer world is kind of the same for all people. So if you have 10 people in a room, what’s going on in the room is pretty much the same for them all.
And when it comes to typical people, they filter things out—the sounds, the lights, the smells.
For those of us who are sensitive, we’re not able to filter the same. And so all the noises and lights and smells come into our inner world.
So although the outer world might look the same, how we experience it doesn’t.
Which explains a lot. I’ve always known I felt things more deeply than those around me—I just didn’t realise that the world was literally louder for me too.
What’s changed?
I’ve always been sensitive. Even as a kid. But not in the obvious, covering-my-ears kind of way. You wouldn’t have noticed it from the outside. It didn’t show up in noise or light or textures back then. It showed up in feelings.
I felt everything.
All the emotions. All at once.
And that part hasn’t changed.
What has changed are my sensory sensitivities.
Although if I’m honest, they were probably always there—I just ignored them. Masked them. Numbed them. Constantly.
So why now?
Well, according to Autism.org, it could be linked to hormones.
They say that many women in their 40s and 50s start to realise they might be neurodivergent.
Hormone changes and fluctuations can turn the volume up on sensitivities that have always been there.
So things we used to brush off suddenly feel impossible to ignore.
The noise. The smells. The tags in clothes. The world.
So hormones play a part
Obviously this may not be the case for every woman. Some women are not as sensitive to their changing hormones (is that another sensitivity?!).
But they definitely play a part for some of us.
Personally, I know that my sensitivity to sound is increased when my oestrogen is high. And this has worsened during perimenopause which brought my neurodivergence to light.
And so I think it’s important that we recognise hormones affect us. Which means that sensitivities ebb and flow depending on where we are in our menstrual cycle and what stage of life we are at.
The famous five
I think it’s worth saying that when we talk about senses, most people instantly think of the big five we learned about in school:
Taste
Touch
Sight
Sound
Smell
But science has moved on a lot since those days (at least for those of us who remember chalkboards and VHS recorders).
We now know there are way more than just five senses.
As Ashley Ward explains in his book Sensational:
“This rule of five is still the basis for our early education in the senses, yet it’s some way from the whole story. We certainly have more than five and depending on how we slice and dice the different categories, we might have as many as fifty-three.”
Fifty-three! No wonder I’m exhausted.
But to keep this post short(er), I’m sticking with the classic five today.
What affects me
Not all my senses have difficulty filtering out the world. Or maybe it’s more that I feel like I can cope with some more than others. The point is, some affect me massively in a negative way, others not so much.
Anyway, in order of my sensitivities:
Sound
Touch
Smell
Sight
Taste
With regards to smell and sight, although I’ve put them that way round, I think they may be joint. I suppose it depends on the situation.
Sound
OK so this is a biggie for me—being sensitive to noise. And yet it’s not any noise. I love (my) loud music. I love the sound of the clocks ticking. And thunder storms.
But I struggle with some other aspects. Like Amusement Arcade halls and bowling alleys. Like too many voices in a restaurant.
But it’s not just the loud stuff. It’s the little noises. The stuff no one else seems to notice. Like when my jacket rubs against itself and makes a scratching sound.
I didn’t realise just how badly noise affected me—how much of my energy it took—until I used earplugs and realised how different I felt. I no longer felt like I was on edge all the time, and I felt I could breathe again.
The earplugs I use (I use Loops btw) don’t block out the noise, but they soften it so that I’m not being assaulted by a million different sounds all at once.
People have asked me how wearing earplugs affects my ability to listen. The truth is, without them, there’s just way too much noise—too many distractions—and I struggle to focus on what someone’s actually saying.
With earplugs, all that background noise is dimmed. It filters out the unnecessary stuff so I can really tune into the person in front of me and give them my full attention.
Touch
Regarding touch, there are so many different aspects. I guess it comes down to what Ward said in the quote above—it depends how you slice and dice it.
Itch
Apparently the sensory process that allows us to perceive itch is called Pruriception. (Ha—you learn something new every day!).
I have to cut all labels out of my clothes, even if it means leaving a hole in the fabric.
I have no idea why those fuckers are so itchy to me, but if there’s a label, I cannot think about anything else.
Sensual Touch
I think this is the most difficult to explain because it’s all about what my hormones are doing as well as context.
In a nutshell—I can’t cope with light touch when my oestrogen is high—to the point that it’s painful. And I will tense up. This is where I need firm touch.
When my hormones are low, stroke me all you like because it doesn’t affect me the same way. And in fact, I need more stimulation as I need more input. (You get the point, right?)
(As a side note—I’m trying so hard to write about hormones and sex and touch and how it can change through the menstrual cycle. But it’s a fine line between sharing enough to help and sharing too much personal stuff. And I don’t want it to read like a text book. Always…)
Tickling
Who in their right fucking mind thinks that tickling is fun?
Touch my feet or try and tickle me and I may well laugh (it seems like an automatic reaction). But that doesn’t mean I’m enjoying it.
And I will kick you in the face until you stop. And then I will kick you more for causing me so much pain and upset.
Temperature
It’s either too hot or too cold, and I can’t seem to control my body temperature very well (and no, I’m not talking hot flashes/flushes here).
Usually it’s more that I’m too cold and need a blanket or my down jacket. Even in summer.
But then that could also be my need for nervous system regulation using the blankets or heavier clothing.
Smell
I smell everything, but not in the ‘normal’ sense.
Of course I smell flowers, coffee, books (hands up to my book sniffers!). But I also smell everything else. And I mean everything.
I struggle with some smells. I cannot cope with lilies. I also know when one of my boys has had something for lunch that contained garlic. And I fucking hate the bath bomb places.
Not to the point that they make me physically sick, but to the point I have to take myself out of the situation because I cannot think about anything else.
Sight
As I mentioned, this is not a huge sensitivity for me.
Sometimes I need to dim my phone or screen. Often I need to wear sunglasses.
But maybe it’s not a sensitivity for me because my world isn’t massively exposed to too many bright lights and such.
I work from home and I like the lights low. I often wear a baseball cap when I’m out or sunglasses. And I like the visor down in the car.
But I don’t work in an office with strobe lighting. So again maybe the reason it doesn’t affect me is that I’m not exposed to them too much.
Obviously for others, that’s not the case.
Taste
Some people struggle with taste and textures to the point that they just can’t eat. And some of those end up being admitted to eating disorder wards, wrongly believed that they have anorexia. And yet it’s not that. They simply cannot cope.
In fact, 65% of autistic adults have trouble with food textures.
I’m not one of them. Taste doesn’t affect me massively. I love food. I can taste it.
There are some textures I cannot cope with (such as woody chicken). But generally it’s not one of my senses that’s any different from most people (I think).
Children with sensitivities
I’m 43 (almost). And it’s only in the last few years that I’ve been able to understand what the fuck is going on. And I am (still) learning.
When I come across new situations and places, I get new information. Find things that I can’t cope with. And when that happens, I take myself out of the situation, I reflect, and if I need to return in future for whatever reason, I make sure I’m prepared.
And yet it’s still hard for me.
So when I see kids in prams who are in the middle of a shopping centre or a bowling alley, holding their hands over their ears, upset, and the parents laughing and telling them “not to be silly,” I can’t help but get angry.
It may not be loud for the parent. And the other children may love this environment and be laughing and having fun. But there are some children who cannot filter out the noise. The lights. The smells. All of it.
And they’re hurting. They’re being traumatised. And I’m seriously not saying that lightly. Their body is unable to cope.
So please, if you think your child is “too sensitive”—they’re not. They just process and experience the world differently.
Help them to understand their needs and be their safe space for them. Encourage them to tell you what they’re feeling, what they’re experiencing, even if you don’t understand or feel it the same way.
And more than anything, be their advocate so they can navigate the world in a way that helps them show up as their best self.
A gift and a curse
I think one of the things I never really appreciated is how so much of these sensitivities are not only a curse, but a gift. I only ever saw them as something that was ‘bad’. Something that I struggled with. Something that made life difficult for me. Made me different.
And yet I’m learning—I’m trying—to change my perception.
I am sensitive to emotions, which means I’m also empathetic.
I am sensitive to noise, which makes me appreciate the deep sounds of music, the sounds of geese flying overhead, the rain on the window.
I am sensitive to smells, which makes me appreciate real books, smell the roses (literally), the smell of my dog.
I am sensitive to touch, which makes hugs and kisses so much more intense.
Everything is subjective
When it comes to understanding your own sensitivities, it’s important to remember that everything is subjective.
Of course it is. No one else is you. You are you. And your experience is what matters.
Now if you’re like me (and I know some of you are), you will gaslight yourself. You will tell yourself that it’s not real. That you’re making it all up. That your experience and what you feel isn’t any different from anyone else’s.
It took a long, long, long time for me to stop this (I’m still working on it) and to trust my experience. To say “this is how it feels to me.”
It’s like when you say you’re cold and someone else says “you can’t be cold—it’s boiling today.” Or “I’m hungry” and they say “you can’t be—you’ve just eaten.”
How the fuck does anyone else know if you’re hot or cold, if you’re hungry or not, if something hurts or doesn’t, if something is loud for you, or it’s too bright?
Just because your experience may look different from the rest of the people around the table, doesn’t make it not real.
It’s yours. Own it. Stand your ground. Advocate for yourself. Say “this is how I feel”.
And know that if you were sitting at my table—you’d fit right in.
Sources
Ashley Ward. (2023). Sensational
MacLennan, K., O’Brien, S., & Tavassoli, T. (2022). In Our Own Words: The Complex Sensory Experiences of Autistic Adults
National Autistic Society. Autism and the Menopause.
Thomas, K. S., Keating, J., Ross, A. A., Cooper, K., & Jones, C. R. G. (2025). Avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder (ARFID) symptoms in gender diverse adults and their relation to autistic traits, ADHD traits, and sensory sensitivities.