Compression

As I mentioned in Too Feely, my taste in clothes is driven largely by comfort and not by style. Those who know me will probably, if they try to imagine me standing in front of them in my normal attire, picture someone who nearly always wears loose elasticated jogging style trousers (shorts in summer), t-shirts (vest tops in summer), and a fleece and maybe a scarf when it’s cold. All of these clothes are usually selected for their loose comfort, their lack of restriction, and, often, their softness. I do occasionally dress up for dinners, concerts and parties, but only usually for short spells of time, and not on a daily basis.

So why am I sitting at my computer, typing this, wearing tight compression sportswear that’s several sizes too small, with an elasticated waist support fastened tightly around me on top of the already compressive clothing? And, more to the point, why am I not feeling sick or in pain or desperate to rip all my clothes off? Why did I CHOOSE to put these things on this morning?

The short answer is “I don’t know”. I haven’t a clue why, sometimes, I am desperate for the feeling of pressure against my body and I crave it and it calms me. Sometimes, when bashing myself against the sofa for half an hour doesn’t work, and drinking several glasses of wine doesn’t work, and thinking mindfully doesn’t work, and everything else I can think of doesn’t work, being compressed DOES work, and it works beautifully well. As I’m sitting here, wearing clothes that I usually wouldn’t go near on an ordinary day, I feel grounded and reassured by them. I feel the anxiety receding. I feel that the deep even pressure from my chest to my ankles is something beautiful, and, truth be told, if I could make it even firmer, even stronger, then I would (I’m limited as to just HOW tight the clothes can be by the need to be able to take them on and off)!

I’ve written before, in poem form, about the weighted blanket I bought in January and how much the pressure from that helps me and calms me. My use of compressive clothing as a calming mechanism since discovering I’m autistic predates my use of weighted items by several months. I wrote the following back in October 2016, in what essentially became a journal that was the predecessor to this blog:

29 October 2016

Weird probably autistic thing number whateverwe’reuptonow.

Mainly noting here for collating evidence / stuff to write about on future blog / in future book etc. And just because this is becoming a chronicle of experiences.

I always wear loose clothes. I know I do. I hate my clothes being tight. So I wear loose soft ones with all the labels cut out.

This afternoon I’ve been pretty weird. On my own in the flat (he is working) and also had a fairly tense week (water getting repaired), out yesterday, loads of stuff on the form (which is getting there – I hope to have it in the post on Monday), and a moderately stressful time.

So this afternoon was letting go time. I knew I felt very very anxious. Very not calm. Rocking and bashing myself on the sofa and stuff in the dark helped quite a lot. But not quite enough. It didn’t quite do what I needed.

I suddenly realised that what I really really wanted was pressure. To be wearing something tight. That was the signal every bit of my brain was getting from my body. I want pressure. Really really want pressure. The message was clear.

So it is Saturday evening and I am home alone wearing my tightest most compressive running trousers and a pair of compression calf sleeves. I don’t own any normal tight clothes, but I do have kit. So I am wearing the tightest kit I own.

And it feels beautiful and wonderful and I feel calm. And right. Sitting here in compression kit.

This is all really really odd.

But it is what is happening. And my promise to myself when this whole thing started was to do it properly. To listen to the signals I was getting from my body and my head. To work out what is needed. What helps. What is all this about.

If the strategies sometimes include wearing compression kit, then so be it. The calming effect is magical.

Back then I just used the smallest running kit I had lying around (and because I’d put on a bit of weight over the preceding year it was slightly too small and therefore helpful). Very soon afterwards, after a few more occasions where I’d hunted around in drawers and things to find other clothes that were fitted and even and a bit too small and decided that wearing compressive clothing from time to time really was going to help me, I deliberately went to my local sports store (as a runner I’m massively familiar with the place as I’m always obsessing about new kit and so on) and selected several items of clothing and various weightlifting things and so on and they’ve become part of my life now.

I did a bit of hunting around on the internet and found that liking compression from time to time is, indeed, not unknown among autistic people. I found tales of people going out with compressive sportswear under their clothes, mentions of corsetry being worn by autistic people, accounts of autistic kids wedging themselves under mattresses, and, of course, information about Temple Grandin’s squeeze machine which it seems she invented to get the sensory feeling of being hugged but without the need for human contact which some autistics are uncomfortable with.

I’m not uncomfortable being hugged by other humans – far from it, although I do have occasional times when I prefer not to be hugged (they’re quite rare), and I’m absolutely not a great fan of being tickled or very lightly touched or being breathed on or similar. But other humans are not always available, and sometimes I do need to be both alone and have that reassuring feeling of EVEN pressure against me (the evenness is very important – I absolutely don’t like straps or inconsistent pressure or anything that feels like it’s digging into my skin).

The research I’ve managed to do so far suggests that, just like bashing myself against things or hitting parts of my body with my fists or lying under a weighted blanket, that this need for firm consistent pressure is to do with balancing the proprioceptive system – the sense that feeds back to the brain precisely where the body is in space, that tells you where your legs are under a desk even when you can’t actually see them. It seems that, like all the other sensory systems (see Too Bright and Too Loud) autistic people’s proprioceptive systems can be a bit skewed and that seeking pressure (or indeed, being unable to tolerate it) is not uncommon.

And so, wearing compressive clothing when I feel the need has become part of my normal life over the last six months. And, as I hunted around last October for those few items of “too small” clothing I found there were a few. And all my life I’ve had occasional times when I’ve worn them, for, it seems no reason at all. I’ve just got up from time to time and thought I’d wear the tight things today.

Then, a couple of days later, sitting wearing the newly acquired sportswear and a waist support belt, I was suddenly hit with a really strong memory – a memory triggered not by conscious remembering, but by feeling, in the same way that starting to flap my hands had triggered this sort of “feeling memory”. I wrote it up in the journal:

31 October 2016

As I calmed down and felt the pressure from the belt I remembered having a big wide belt when I was a teenager. It was the 1980s so belts were big and wide.

And I remembered sitting at my desk in my bedroom as a teenager wearing some too small shorts and the big wide belt done up very very tight and pushing my chair right up to my desk.

A memory completely forgotten until today.

That was one of the ways I coped back then. 30 years ago. And I wouldn’t have had the first clue why.

This continues to be an extraordinary and revealing time.

I know this memory must have come from some time in my early teens because I can remember the position of my desk and the décor in my bedroom. I also know that I’d had no instruction to wear a wide belt done up tightly for any reason (probably, had anyone known I was doing it they’d have tried to discourage rather than encourage it anyway, so I expect I concealed it, probably afraid I’d get into trouble), and I had no access to anything like the internet or any other influence. But the memory that was triggered last October has reminded me of similar times that go right through my life, through student days, through most of my adult life, right up to the present moment.

And so I shall continue to wear what I am wearing right now until either I need to go out or until I receive the signal from my body (which can often be sudden and dramatic) that says NO MORE! Interestingly, the feeling of needing pressure of this intensity can vanish almost instantly, and when it does, I listen. I’m working out ways of making the system as flexible as possible and of doing what is most needed when it’s most needed, and I’m starting to observe how it all works and still trying to understand what it’s all about!

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