As I write this, a woman sitting next to me is eating, and it makes me want to unhinge my jaw and scream as loud as I can, or tear out fistfuls of my hair, or smack the food out of her hand. Or all of the above.
I have a condition called misophonia (literally “hatred of sound”) and according to a study by King’s College London, as many as one in five people struggle with it significantly. It’s characterised by a negative emotional reaction to specific sounds, most commonly eating noises, heavy breathing or repetitive sounds like pen clicking or nail biting.
I think ‘negative emotional reaction’ is underselling it a bit. This isn’t a mere dislike. I’ve shouted at loved ones over these sounds, I’ve left cinema screenings, I’ve moved house and I’ve dug my nails into my arm until it turns white more times than I can count.
But I’m stuck with it. Little is known about why some are afflicted. “There’s no conclusive research on misophonia yet,” says Dr Jane Gregory, a clinical psychologist who suffers from the condition herself. She has devoted five years to researching misophonia, which she believes is an adaptive feature most people left behind with evolution.
“It’s the same mechanism in your brain that allows you to tune into the sound of footsteps of someone walking behind you, even when the traffic’s loud,” Dr Gregory explains. “So the footsteps are quieter than the traffic, but you can still hear the footsteps. And your brain says, ‘Oh, that could be something, don’t ignore it. Stay on guard.’” Unfortunately for misophonia sufferers, this fight-or-flight mode is also triggered by non-threatening things, like eating noises and people breathing.
Like most neurological conditions, misophonia can be something you’re born with, or it can be triggered through trauma. It’s door number two for me, sadly, as I was exposed to noises I shouldn’t have had to hear by an abusive family member. I won’t put too fine a point on it, but this means for me sex noises are enemy number one.
Different people have different triggers and Dr Gregory has seen them all, even someone who was driven wild by the sound of boiling water being poured, or her own personal vendetta against pigeons cooing. Misophonia also manifests at differing levels of severity. I always thought I had the worst you could have. I was wrong. Sussie, a 28-year-old writer and author, had such constant misophonia that she wished she was deaf. “When I was young and couldn’t escape the triggers I often thought that being able to deactivate my ears would be a nicer way to live,” she says. “I had a great group of friends and family, but the sounds would push me away. But if I was deaf, people would work around that. There are humans who live full lives without their hearing — I wanted that option.”
Sussie isn’t the first misophoniac to think like this. Adeel Ahmad, 46, another sufferer, has spoken to nearly 100 other tortured misophoniacs throughout the past few years in his role hosting The Misophonia Podcast, a support podcast to better understand the condition. One person, who Ahmad will not name for their privacy, actually went through with Sussie’s deactivated hearing plan. “I talked to someone recently,” he says, “who, as a teenager, quietly left the dinner table, went to the bathroom, and proceeded to just shove a pair of tweezers almost completely into her ear, and she’s still convinced it’s caused some damage.”
This is the problem with misophonia — you have two solutions: stop the noise or leave. The first option can be awkward and uncomfortable and the second profoundly isolating. Cris, 48, has structured his whole life around his misophonia — he works from home, he eats dinner in a different room to his wife, and he keeps interactions with the noisy outside world to a minimum. It does mean that he misses out on stuff. “Even though my background is in theatre, I don’t go to watch plays because the audience noises are triggering to me,” he tells me.
I often thought that being able to deactivate my ears would be a nicer way to live
Leaving is often the best option, because, as Dr Gregory notes, “There is no gold standard treatment for misophonia.”
“The most promising options being tested are CBT to help your brain learn that these sounds aren’t really a threat,” she explains, “or therapy to process to early memories related to sounds. Some audiologists prescribe in-ear devices to help mask the sounds, which can be especially helpful in school and office environments.”
Cris still attempts to enjoy loud environments and sometimes it’s fine. But other times... not so much. “My wife and I went to a company event recently,” Cris says. “As soon as I got there, there were people eating chips, and I was like, ‘I can’t be here.’ So I sat out in the car and listened to music while she was spending time with co-workers.” This might sound sad, but Cris doesn’t mind — he’s not suffering in silence, in fact, it’s quite the opposite.
Not all sufferers are the same, though, and I do mind suffering in silence. A wider understanding of misophonia would change a lot: people could ask others, politely, to chew with their mouths closed and they would understand and not take offence. Kids could take exams in private rooms, like those allocated for children with ADHD. Parents would be more patient when their kids wince as dad slurps his soup. People would know that CBT can help lessen it. Awareness is everything. And until then, misophoniacs, I have two words for you: AirPod pros.
