Noise, Love & Guilt

If you know me, or have read my "about me" section, you’ll know that my heart is big and love is at the very core of who I am. Love for my husband, family, friends, and, of course, Odie. But there’s a heavy weight I carry with me every day: the guilt I feel about how my misophonia affects those I love.

Living with this disorder, condition, or—as I like to call it—this torturous noise nightmare that I never wake up from, is challenging enough on its own. The lack of awareness around misophonia means it’s not exactly a hot topic, and while other sufferers are out there, finding them feels like searching for a needle in a haystack.

I’m incredibly fortunate to have the endless support of my loved ones, but there’s a mammoth part of me that constantly worries about how my misophonia impacts them. It’s one thing to carry this weight myself, but it’s another entirely to know it affects those I care about most.

So, before I get into what I am really here to talk about, it would mean the world to me to find fellow misophones to talk to about this—people who truly get the guilt.

In previous posts, I’ve mentioned a few things that loved ones try to avoid around me because they’re triggering. Some of these are easy to avoid, but others are much trickier—done unconsciously, without a second thought. Tapping on a benchtop, bouncing a leg to the beat of music, or picking at a sharp fingernail edge… little things we all do without realising (I’m guilty too!). I can’t even begin to imagine how frustrating it must be to constantly be asked to stop doing something you didn’t even know you were doing!

I am so grateful for the endless patience of my loved ones, but I’m also deeply aware of how my misophonia impacts them, and it often leaves me struggling to find the right words to express my thanks. (Shocking, right? Ha!) So, let’s keep it simple—Sorry, Thank you, and I love you.

Sorry

I’m sorry for the way my misophonia affects you every single day. For the constant requests to stop, move seats, change your routine, or stop doing something you didn’t even realise you were doing. For the moments of panic, anger, and frustration in public when I can’t always control how I react. For turning relaxing situations into sudden stress, where calm moments are overshadowed by anxiety. For bringing that unease into our time together, and for not being able to just chill the hell out... Believe me, I wish I could. I know it’s exhausting, and I hate that you’re affected by it, but please know it’s never intentional. This is my lifelong apology to you.

Thank you

Thank you for standing by me from the very first signs of misophonia—even when we didn’t know what it was. Thank you for adjusting your routines, your habits, and your behaviours, without complaint, even though you didn’t ask for this. Thank you for accepting me with all my complexities and helping me find a way to cope. Thank you for never making a fuss over my constant requests, for never making me feel like a burden, even when I probably am (Don’t cry, Hayley). Thank you for doing the research, for asking questions, and for striving to understand this weird, invisible thing that seems to come with no light at the end of the tunnel (Really, don’t cry, you’re a tough cookie). Thank you for choosing to support me, to stick by my side, even when the easier option would have been to walk away. Your patience and love mean more than I can ever express. This is my endless thank you.

I love you

I love you all for countless reasons—though if I started listing them, we’d be here until next year! But to keep it relevant: I love you for choosing me. For loving me with all my quirks, my spiciness, my anxiety, and everything in between. For seeing the parts of me that sometimes feel too much and loving me all the same. I love you for the patience you show on the days I’m overwhelmed, and for the gentle reminders that I’m enough even when I feel like I’m not. For being my peace and quiet when the world feels too noisy. It’s easy to love someone when everything is calm and steady, but you choose to love me through my chaos, my highs and lows, and my struggles. This is my forever love letter to you.

Misophonia is a painful rollercoaster, and the overwhelming guilt that comes along for the ride makes it even more difficult. It’s the kind of guilt that lingers in the background of everyday life—reminding you of the ways your struggles affect those you love. It makes moments of joy feel clouded by the weight of what I can’t control. And as much as I wish I could, I can't always shield the people I care about from the repercussions of my condition.

There are days when the guilt feels heavier than others, when it seems to overwhelm everything else. But in those moments, it’s important to remember that misophonia isn’t something anyone chooses, nor is it something that defines who I am. It's just a part of me, a part I’m learning to navigate. And for all the moments where the guilt creeps in, I also hold onto the gratitude for those who stand by me, even when they don’t fully understand it.

Remember—If you’re out there, fellow misophonia warrior, drop me a message—I would love to hear from you. Maybe you’re reading this from the other side: the loved one in this equation? Don’t be shy, get in touch! Misophonia can be a lonely battle, but maybe we can make it a little less guilt-ridden together.