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“I want to share something personal that I’ve recently come to understand. I have been living with a neurological condition known as Misophonia since childhood. It is significant to note that the term was only introduced in 2001.

For most of my life, neither I nor anyone else fully understood what was happening to me. Misophonia is a condition in which many specific daily sounds—like chewing, breathing, tapping, and slurping—elicit strong emotional responses in me. I mean powerful feelings like anger, fear, embarrassment, or an overwhelming desire to flee, rather than simply mild annoyance. It’s an automatic reaction. My nervous system triggers like a fire alarm, sending me into a fight-or-flight response.

It’s not that I dislike the person making the sound; it’s not something I choose. It’s just how my brain is wired.

But here’s the thing! Throughout much of my life, I was unaware that these intense reactions were caused by sounds. I believed that I had some weird glitch. I’d have these episodes—sometimes I’d get snappy, or withdraw suddenly, or feel a surge of shame or rage—and there was no apparent cause, so my brain did what brains typically do: it tried to make sense of it. When there’s no obvious external reason, you turn inward.

This journey led me to some difficult places. At times, I questioned my sanity. Everything felt nonsensical. Each episode seemed random, disjointed, and inexplicable. It was impossible to see a pattern since no one understood the significance of sound. This resulted in substantial self-blame and feelings of shame.

When you don’t comprehend your internal struggles and others can't relate, it fosters a sense of isolation. You hide your true feelings, pretending that everything is okay. You try to mask your responses and carry on, yet when you stumble, self-criticism ensues. This was the truth I lived.

Then, all of a sudden, my viewpoint changed entirely. I was among the first users of 23andMe, the innovative at-home DNA testing service. Over the years, they’ve provided occasional updates on newly identified genetic traits. In 2015, one of those updates introduced me to a term I had never heard of: Misophonia.

As I read the report, I realized that the description matched my own experiences. For the first time, there was a clear explanation for my intense reactions over the years. It had a name, it was real, and everything finally made sense. Discovering that this thing has a name, that it’s a real neurological condition, and that it’s not a character flaw or personal failing was a massive relief. Not because it fixes it, but because it explains it.

It connects the dots, taking all those random, disconnected episodes and giving them context. It helps me to embrace compassion for myself like never before. I share this to be understood. If you’ve ever seen me pull away, go silent, seem tense, or even suddenly snap, there’s a good chance it was one of those moments.

However, please understand that it was never about you. I was dealing with something I couldn't articulate until recently. I’m not sharing this to seek special treatment. I will handle my needs—whether that's taking a step back or using headphones, whatever works best for me.

I share this because, after years of struggling to express it, I find it meaningful to finally be open about this aspect of myself. Discussing this openly has been difficult, but it helps me feel more connected and less isolated. I genuinely appreciate you taking the time to read this, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life. - With affection, Greg”

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