Back in the glorious and confusing days of my childhood, I went to see an occupational therapist once a week to help with my sensory integration/processing disorder. His name was Frank, and he was a young guy who was extremely good looking (and now I CURSE myself because I never appreciated his attractiveness). I was obviously too distracted by the fact that I was 9 years old and more interested in the candy I received at the end of the session. Here’s a picture of Frank:
Alright, so that’s not exactly him. It’s just a picture of a hot, shirtless guy I found on google, but let’s all pretend this is Frank.
Frank and I did LOTS of things in our short time together each week. He made me walk across a balance beam. This was to re-orient my vestibular system. I hated that. Frank would counter with some sort of ‘comforting statement’ like, “You’re only 2 inches off the ground.”
Not very comforting Frank. Your charm and wit didn’t amuse me.
Then he made me stick my hands in some glue and junk. We turned it green using dye, because why the heck not? It is very hard to describe to people who don’t have a sensory problem how it feels to do something that bothers your sensory problem, like sticking your hand in an icky substance. All I knew was that it was more than uncomfortable, and it created ugly signals in my brain. Therefore, I hated that too.
Sometimes he would suggest that I take a trip through the rainbow tunnel. You know the kind – a small, plastic tunnel that most children enjoying crawling through.
Not me though. My sensory system interpreted small, unfamiliar spaces as threatening:
Then we played a stupid game, Connect Four. (Though not as stupid as the game I wrote about in my last post, Operation). I hated this the most because the sounds of the game were sudden and unpleasant. “This game is the pits,” I casually mentioned to Frank.
Frank chuckled at my statement, rested his perfectly featured face upon his hand, and encouraged me to finish the game. I couldn’t wait to tell my mom that she was paying a man to watch me play games that I didn’t even like. UNBELIEVABLE!
At this point of my OT session, I was slightly irritated with Frank. His smiley-ness and optimism was all too much for one girl to take.
But it was not over yet. Before my OT session with Frank ended, he would spend the last several minutes doing joint compressions (pressing my joints in gently) and brushing. The brush looks like this:
It’s kind of FANTASTIC. (Although, those without sensory deep-pressure needs may find the brush against their skin to be unpleasant or just weird).
But who cares about those people, this brush is wonderful. After some deep pressure exercises, brushing, and joint compressions, I felt like a new girl. My hatred for Frank and his gorgeous smiling face seemed to vanish. Things got a little freaky:
Finally at the end of the session, I received my candy of choice and went on my merry way. This lasted for a few weeks or so, possibly longer, I don’t actually remember.
What I do remember is the absurdity of it all, and yet, my strange willingness to comply. I continued the compressions and brushing at home, but I don’t think that alone was enough to counteract the intense over-stimulation I was experiencing daily at school. Still, it was something, and definitely an experience I will never forget.
Very interesting! Weird is okay and brushing is fantastic!
exactly! That brush is super fantastic! Highly recommended.
I really do love your posts Kelly. Absolutely cried laughing at this but in a nice way – honestly. I feel your pain via my son’s experiences and OT traumas and adventures.
When I manage to work out how the set-up works blogger award nominations and whatnot, you’re up. 🙂
Thanks so very much – I’m glad to hear you enjoy my ramblings. Humor is truly the best medicine.
And I have no idea what a blogger award is, but it sounds super fancy and nice, so thank you for thinking of my blog for nomination. 🙂
I am enjoying your Blog, Kelly! Super nice of you to share your experiences, good & bad, with everyone. I am certain, that your sharing is helping those that need it. I love your humor and the great pictures. If Frank isn’t too old, maybe you should look him up! Have a great day!
Thanks Kerry! I would look Frank up, but all I know about him was that his name was Frank and he was good looking. 😛 If I ever find any more info, I will definitely look him up.
Yeah there are various Blogger Awards which I’ll suss out and then get back to you but I’ll have to do my research and make sure you’re up for one that fits your posting style.
By the way – “Giant Jenga” is in my view, THE most horrifying family fun game out there. Sensory issues or not – when that tower gets a wobble on; Dear God… The fear that rises up is like nothing else on Earth.
Hang on – shirtless Frank isn’t shirtless? I only just spotted that.
hahahaha! The original photo of shirtless Frank is him shirtless, but I drew a crappy red shirt over his abs. So technically, he’s shirtless, but I tried to cover him up 😛
Just gotta throw my two cents in — not all OTs are created equal. We aren’t all gorgeous, we aren’t all named Frank, and we don’t all treat sensory issues the same way… ☺️
I just love your perspective on this. I think every OT is trying to be helpful, but some of the strategies we try don’t always work very effectively. And what gets tricky is that what works for one person’s nervous system and unique set of challenges may not (probably won’t!) work for another person’s very similar issues. It’s helpful to hear feedback like this so we can see your perspective. I think it’s crucial for OTs to learn how to look and listen and respect when people with SPD (especially kids!) communicate when something is or isn’t working for them.
HAHAHHAH! You’re not all named Frank?! Oh darn 😛
It sounds like fun for a child. Good memories for an adult to look back on.