The Dual Diagnosis Diaries: 💜 My Sensory Cup Was Already Full: Chronic Illness and Sensory Overload

📖 Dear Diary,

As I lay here once again battling my old friend Insomnia at some ungodly hour of the night, my mind started wandering to something that many people don’t typically associate with chronic illness: sensory issues.

For me, sensory issues affect touch, smells, and sounds.

Some days, the feeling of clothing against my skin irritates me to no end. Imagine lying in bed and suddenly becoming painfully aware that the sheets touching your body are offensive for absolutely no logical reason. Your bed—your safe space—has somehow become the enemy.

Make it make sense.

And don’t even get me started on smells. Some days strong perfumes, certain foods, cleaning products, or random scents that never bothered me before can make me instantly nauseous or irritable. Apparently, my nose likes to keep things interesting. 😂

Then there are sounds.

Lord, sounds.

Crunching.

Smacking.

Chewing.

Repetitive noises.

And sometimes, if I’m being completely honest, even the sound of people breathing can annoy me to my soul. Sorry in advance to anyone who has ever innocently existed in my presence while I was overstimulated. 😂

Before anyone comes for me, yes, I realize how unreasonable that sounds. No, I do not have an explanation.

I’ve noticed my sensory issues are often worse when I’m fatigued, stressed, flaring, or running on very little sleep—which, considering my ongoing battle with Insomnia, explains quite a lot.

Recently, my friend Joy and I made one of our regular pilgrimages to Disneyland. We try to go at least once a month because… well… why not? Life is short and Disney makes me happy.

What is important to understand, though, is that this wasn’t one of those leisurely Disney days where I woke up refreshed and headed straight to the park.

Nope.

We went after I had already worked an entire day.

By the time I climbed into the car, I had already spent hours in meetings, interacting with people, making decisions, solving problems, and navigating the usual demands that come with both my career and chronic illness. Add in my ongoing sleep deprivation, and my nervous system was already hanging on by a thread.

So while a bag of pork rinds may seem like a small thing, the truth is that by that point, my sensory cup was already overflowing.

The pork rinds were simply the final straw. 😂

As I sit here writing this diary entry, “Surface Pressure” from Disney’s Encanto keeps playing in my head. Between chronic illness, sensory overload, a full day of work, and trying not to ruin Disney day for my friends, apparently I relate to Luisa more than I’d like to admit. 😂

But this story isn’t really about my Disney addiction.

It’s about what happened when an already overwhelmed nervous system finally said, “Enough.”

🎢 The Pork Rind Incident

On this particular trip, Joy asked me to stop at 7-Eleven on the way.

Side note: the number of businesses I casually mention in these diary entries is becoming concerning. Somebody really needs to sponsor me at this point. 😂

Anyway, Joy runs into 7-Eleven and comes back with a drink and a bag of pork rinds.

Friends, if you know anything about pork rinds, you know they are not a quiet snack.

As we continued our short drive to Disneyland, she happily began enjoying her snack while I sat there suffering in silence.

The crunching.

The smacking.

The chewing.

To me, it sounded like someone repeatedly dragging their fingernails across a chalkboard while simultaneously stomping on my last nerve.

The harder I tried to ignore it, the more irritated I became.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I finally said something along the lines of, “You know I have sensory issues. Of all the snacks you could have chosen while trapped in a car with me, you chose pork rinds?”

She laughed and informed me she was almost finished.

Now, I know there is no graceful or silent way to eat pork rinds, but by that point, I was over it.

After she finished eating, she continued making smacking noises while talking. Normally, this wouldn’t bother me nearly as much, but once my senses become overloaded, it tends to snowball.

The pork rinds had officially opened the floodgates.

Suddenly everything annoyed me.

The conversation.

The traffic.

The sounds outside.

The sound of my own breathing.

And the truly unfortunate part?

We hadn’t even made it inside the Disneyland parking garage yet.

🌈 Sensory Overload at the Happiest Place on Earth

About fifteen minutes after my in-car meltdown, we boarded the shuttle into the park.

One thing I’ve learned about myself is that once I become overstimulated, things usually continue downhill from there.

When we finally entered the park, I was immediately met with crowds, noise, bright lights, music, announcements, excited children, and because it was Pride Night, an explosion of beautiful colors everywhere.

Normally, I love the energy of Disneyland.

That night, my nervous system said, “Absolutely not.”

I was officially in sensory overload.

But because I am both stubborn and highly motivated by food, I pushed through.

I had a funnel cake mission to complete.

Please don’t judge me.

After successfully obtaining the object of my affection, we headed over to Pooh Corner because seeing my man Winnie the Pooh is non-negotiable whenever I visit Disneyland.

After seeing my man, my man, my man, we headed over to Downtown Disney to cruise the shops and do one of my favorite activities—people watch.

Mind you, by this point I was in full-blown sensory overload.

The crowds.

The music.

The conversations.

The smells.

The lights.

My nervous system had officially filed a formal complaint and requested immediate evacuation.

What many people don’t realize is that sensory overload isn’t simply feeling annoyed or irritated. For me, it can feel physically exhausting.

My brain struggles to filter out all of the incoming information. Eventually, everything starts feeling too loud, too bright, too crowded, and just… too much.

But Momma didn’t raise no quitter.

I didn’t want my issues to affect Joy having a good night. I think many people living with chronic illness understand that feeling of wanting to push through because we don’t want to disappoint the people we love or become the reason plans change. Sometimes we push ourselves long past our limits because the guilt of leaving feels heavier than the exhaustion itself.

Besides, we were at Disney and there were still stores to browse and strangers to silently create elaborate backstories for.

Priorities. 😂

About an hour or so later, Joy looked over at me and said, “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

Those words may sound simple to most people, but for someone dealing with sensory overload, they mean everything.

Because what Joy was really saying was, “I see you. I know you’re struggling, and it’s okay if you’re done.”

Ironically, it was also her gentle way of saying that she too had reached her own sensory limitations for the evening.

Apparently, even healthy people have a maximum Disney capacity.

Who knew? 😂

🧠 Sensory Overload and Chronic Illness

As frustrating as these moments can be, experiences like this have taught me that sensory overload is not simply me being irritable, moody, or difficult. It is a very real response from a nervous system that is already working overtime.

Living with chronic illness is already a heavy load to carry. Add sensory overload to the mix, and everyday life can quickly become overwhelming.

Many people living with chronic illnesses—including autoimmune diseases, neurological conditions, cancer, and other invisible illnesses—describe becoming increasingly sensitive to the world around them. Bright lights, loud noises, crowded spaces, strong smells, or even certain fabrics against the skin can transform what might seem like an ordinary day into a chaotic and exhausting experience.

Sensory overload is much more than simple annoyance. It can contribute to anxiety, irritability, panic, emotional distress, and profound exhaustion. For some of us, our bodies are already expending tremendous amounts of energy managing pain, fatigue, inflammation, weakness, poor sleep, and stress. By the time we encounter additional sensory input, our systems may simply have very little left in reserve.

The more I researched sensory overload, the more I realized I may not be as alone as I thought. While neither Crohn’s Disease nor Myasthenia Gravis is typically associated with sensory issues, living with chronic illness means asking our bodies and nervous systems to do a lot every single day.

Pain.

Fatigue.

Poor sleep.

Stress.

Inflammation.

Years of operating in survival mode.

At some point, it makes sense that our systems might become a little more sensitive to the world around us.

I don’t know exactly why my sensory issues have become more noticeable over the years. I just know they have. And knowing that others living with chronic illness experience similar struggles made me feel a little less alone.

The more I learn about sensory overload, the more I realize that it deserves the same compassion and respect as any other symptom associated with chronic illness. Understanding our triggers and recognizing when we are becoming overstimulated allows us to respond with grace rather than guilt.

💭 Final Thoughts

Living with chronic illness has taught me that understanding our limits is not weakness—it’s wisdom. It has also taught me how important it is to have people in your life who recognize when you’re struggling, even before you say a word.

I’ve also learned that accommodations aren’t just for other people. Sometimes we have to give ourselves permission to step away from the noise, find a quiet corner, put on headphones, sit in silence, take a break, or simply say, “I’ve had enough for today.”

Over time, I’ve learned that taking breaks, finding quieter spaces, stepping into shops, sitting down for a snack, or simply leaving when I’ve had enough can make a world of difference.

Because sometimes our bodies whisper.

Sometimes they scream.

And sometimes they communicate through an irrational hatred of pork rinds. 😂

Either way, learning to listen can make all the difference.

---

Thank you for taking the time to read this entry from The Dual Diagnosis Diaries. Whether you are living with chronic illness, caring for someone who is, or simply trying to better understand the invisible battles so many people face, thank you for being here.

Until next time, take care of yourselves and each other.

With gratitude,

Founder • Author • Advocate • Future Wellness Coach
Kia Lorice
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries 💜