Chapter 4
Understanding your behaviours

Sensory processing and its impact on behaviour came to my attention in the early 2000s when I was exposed to the work of a group of committed therapists in Alberta, Canada, who were exploring why some children seem to find it hard to cope with everyday situations and environments. It was through working in early intervention centres for children with behavioural and developmental challenges that I was exposed to the work of Dr A. Jean Ayres, an occupational therapist and educational psychologist.

We are constantly bombarded with sensory information from our external environment and from within us. After years of research and clinical observation Dr Ayres concluded that some people find it especially hard to switch off or even modulate the signals their bodies are receiving. Her ‘sensory integration theory' proposes that integrating sensory information is a neurobiological process that organises for our use the many sensations we experience through various means including touch, smell, sound, vision, taste, movement and gravity. The sensory system interprets and reconciles these signals to make sense of our environment. We then respond appropriately, but sometimes this process isn't as smooth as we would like.

Sensory overload

Sensory processing disorder (SPD) occurs when sensory signals aren't processed into appropriate responses. According to the Sensory Processing Disorder Foundation, a person with SPD ‘finds it difficult to process and act upon information received through the senses, which creates challenges in performing countless everyday tasks. Motor clumsiness, behavioral problems, anxiety, depression, school failure, and other impacts may result if the disorder is not treated effectively'.

Many of the children I worked with as a paediatric occupational therapist found it difficult to cope with the influx of information generated by the sights and sounds of their physical environment. Overwhelmed by this flood of sensory information, they often struggled with typical childhood activities such as playing with their peers, learning, playing sport or being creative in any number of ways. Put simply, their ability to process sensory information was impaired. The way they showed their overwhelm was often viewed by others as bad behaviour or ‘weirdness'. One child might reach meltdown in a shopping centre for no obvious reason; another might be found at a party sitting in the corner of a crowded room, eyes downcast, talking to no one. Many of us see this behaviour as rudeness, but some children's brains are simply not wired to process the mass of sensory stimuli they receive and to respond to them in a socially appropriate manner.

Sensory regulation dysfunction is the subject of some contention and of ongoing research. While it affects both children and adults, however, anyone who works with children who have these experiences cannot deny its existence or its negative impact on the way some people relate to their world. Sensory processing offers an alternative perspective on how we react to overwhelm.

Let's look at a real-life scenario. For some people, large department stores are a sensory minefield because of the overstimulation of visual, auditory and tactile experiences they provide. I admit I find such stores overwhelming, though I do not have a clinical condition. Say I'm visiting a Bunnings hardware store. It starts in the car park when we're weaving in and out of traffic as everyone competes for the spots closest to the entrance. I'm trying to watch my kids as cars frantically dart about like so many headless chickens. To add to the visual overwhelm Bunnings will often be situated next to other large department stores, which intensifies the chaotic dance of shoppers and DIYers trying to cram as much into their Saturday as they can.

Sensory processing offers an alternative perspective on how we react to overwhelm.

Then there are the smells. For some people that sausage sizzle aroma is heaven, as it typically is for me, but having barely survived the frantic car park, and facing the anxiety of negotiating the teeming aisles of floor-to-ceiling tools I have no idea how to use while watching the kids, I am quickly heading for sensory overload.

Once inside the store my kids grab the little child trolleys with the flag on top and race off, my husband is quickly distracted by the shiny tools and I am left rooted to the floor. My breathing is becoming faster and I slip into shutdown mode. There's simply too much to look at, too many choices and too much activity. I can't think clearly and I'm having difficulty articulating my words. As a way of coping I proceed to rein in the kids then follow my husband around like a puppy on a lead.

Some people, when they get to this stage of overwhelm, turn and run; others make a beeline for the cafe and retreat behind a gossip magazine. Being aware of my own sensory thresholds and triggers allows me to cope better in these situations. It allows me to apply strategies that help me switch off and either recharge or stay connected.

I know I am not alone. We all have our stress triggers and our own way of responding to them. When I hesitantly share this story with others they will usually respond with their own, not dissimilar experience — in an overcrowded pub or driving in peak-hour traffic or on a crammed bus. But it isn't just crowds or busy environments that trigger these responses. It might happen in a quiet meeting room with the ceiling fan whirring, or sitting in the lunchroom listening to a colleague chewing loudly on his sandwich, or even when emailed a 40-page report to read through. In those moments we feel our jaw clench, or the hairs stand up on the back of our neck, or a tightening in the chest. These are reactions to sensory input we do not like, and allowing them to build up over the day without being dealt with can lead to sensory shutdown.

We process sensory information in individual ways, which means we all have different sensory preferences. Some need complete silence when working; others work better with music on. Some people cherish the peace and privacy a cubicle offers; others love the energy and space of the open-plan office. For the cubicle lover, the trend towards open-plan workspaces indicates a sensory danger zone. Open-plan workspaces ensure a constant barrage of sensory information. Some people love this energetic environment, while for others it means a cacophony of overwhelm and overstimulation.

The way we process sensory information depends on many variables, such as how much sleep we have had, location, the predictability of the environment and our current stress levels. When we are more relaxed and alert we are better able to process environmental stressors and therefore to avoid the risks of overwhelm.

Let's look at how sensory build-up might affect us on a typical day.

You have had a stressful day at work. All morning you were bombarded with emails and phone calls, a meeting ran late and you were given a 48-hour deadline for a project that would normally take two weeks. You didn't have time for lunch and an accident on the road home disrupted traffic, which means you got home an hour late. As you walk in the door your young daughter screams ‘Daddy's home!' and dashes out to jump on you for a cuddle, as she does every day, but today you are frustrated, exhausted. As she leaps up you snarl at her to get off you and leave you alone. The tone of your voice startles her and she turns and runs down the hall in tears. It takes you a moment to catch your breath. Still cranky, you kick off your shoes, throw your bag onto the floor and let out a big sigh. It's been a long day.

When we are more relaxed and alert we are better able to process environmental stressors and therefore to avoid the risks of overwhelm.

This scenario is not uncommon. For our unhappy dad it may have started before he even got to work. Perhaps he slept poorly the night before. Over the course of the day we build up our stress levels, and with the speed at which we are all working we are not allowing ourselves time to deal with these stresses. We move from one urgent situation to the next throughout the day, and rather than an ebb and flow of energy and emotion, we commonly experience a ratcheting up of environmental and situational stressors towards our sensory threshold. As we race between meetings, tasks and conversations we don't allow ourselves the time to adequately transition between them, to wind down and shift our energy to prepare us for what is next. Instead we just keep pushing on.

Recognise the signals

Everyone has different sensory tolerances and preferences. There is no perfect, ideal sensory profile. Our tolerances naturally change throughout the day depending on environmental stimuli. As our sensory systems become more integrated, we learn how to pay attention to important signals and tune out information that is not relevant so we can adapt our behaviours appropriately.

Looking more closely at how the brain processes sensory information can help alert us to our own triggers and thresholds and also make us more accepting of others' behaviours, maybe cutting them some slack when they need time on their own. It isn't always about you; most of the time people just need time to recalibrate and refocus.

No two people are the same. What may trigger an overwhelmed state in one person may be the perfect productive space for another, so there is no judgement here. Everyone, and I mean everyone, has at one point or another felt overconnected, overwhelmed and overstimulated. Those who recognise the triggers and step in before they take over are able to cope more effectively than others.

It is usually only when we stop and look back after a bad day that we begin to see a pattern emerge. When working with children I have encountered confusion, even sometimes conflict, between parents and teachers over the behavioural needs of a child. The teacher paints a picture of a well-behaved, obedient student who never interrupts in class. The parents' perspective reveals a different story. From the moment the child reaches the safety of the family car they kick off their shoes and start playing up or crying, and for the rest of the day the parents have to deal with the fallout from a child who has been trying to hold it together all day.

It is this prolonged restraint and final release that explain why we often get sick in the first couple of days of a holiday. You've no doubt experienced this yourself. In the lead-up to your annual leave you push yourself to get everything done. It has been a busy year. As you pack the car you are full of energy, and once on the road you are still abuzz but you can feel the calm starting to wash over you … hello holidays. You arrive and unpack the car, grab a drink, sink into a chair on the verandah and take a deep breath. The next morning you wake up exhausted and feel a tickle in the back of your throat. You push through the day but that tickle just won't go away. That night you fall asleep in front of the television and you wake up during the night in a cold sweat … Your body goes into repair mode — and your dream holiday is spent in bed.

Not allowing ourselves time to recover from, and effectively transition between, daily stressors manifests itself in both our health and our behaviours. As we'll discuss further in the following chapter, prioritising the way we transition and recover from daily stressors can have a direct impact on our health and wellbeing.