The Sensory Connection
My mouse moves across the desk like a OUIJA pointer toward a Facebook tab. My legs leap out of my chair and propel me toward the kitchen. I come back with a steaming mug of tea, but a moment later, I’m sniffing out a bag of sour candy, just in case my brain needs an extra sensory jolt. A pile of sugar and 45 minutes later, and I’m not finished my assignment. There’s an empty slot on my timesheet.
Behaviour analyst, heal thyself (spoiler: I eventually did, but not before I opened my eyes to the sensory source of my problems.)
I gained 10 lbs this winter, trying to eat my way to improved office performance. It was a crappy behaviour intervention, with crappy results. There were a few quick fixes (my tired or irritable co-workers could be pacified with a square of chocolate, and my tastebuds appreciated the spicy chips) but I hadn’t correctly identified the itch I was trying to scratch.
Peck. Peck. Peck.
Finding the WHY
My problem, as far as I could see: boring and stressful tasks. My solution: add fun experiences to go along with the work. Result: a serious muffin-top, crumbs in my keyboard, lost grocery dollars, and frequent headaches.
When I started looking myself the way I look at my own clients, I saw something new, and it shocked me.
I had been looking at myself as a disembodied brain in need of entertainment. I picked a few sensory channels (taste, mouthfeel, aroma) and just hammered away at them. I basically forgot about the rest of my body. The answer came to me one day like a bag of hammers falling from the sky. I looked over at the Occupational Therapist sitting next to me and as we discussed one of our clients, I heard myself say “He seems to be really sensory-seeking.”
CLONK.
Sensory Solutions
Good lord, that’s me. I’m hungry for sensory experience all the time. I massage my palms, I rub my scalp, I jiggle my legs, and I try to fill my brain with as many different channels of information as possible. Maybe a lack of snack food is not my problem.
Hmmm… something appears to be missing.
There’s a technique in behaviour analysis called “matched stimuli.” It’s a clever approach that basically swaps an acceptable experience for an unacceptable one. For example, I had seen it used with children who hum constantly. If you give them music to listen to, they don’t seem as compelled to fill in the blanks. I had my own blanks to fill, and when I found a different way to address those needs, I was able to actually get work done without ruining my health.
I experimented with a few different kinds of “stim toys.” I jumped on Amazon that night and ordered the Liquid Timer, a knock-off Fidget Cube, and a Fidget Spinner. The occupational therapist suggested a Fidget for Your Digit (so satisfying.) I found that in order to get work done, I needed some stimulation that would keep my hands and my eyes free, so in the end I started carrying a few packs of hot cinnamon gum (for INTENSE sensory input) and a pair of earbuds so I can pipe in Google Play Music. I’m much, much happier at the office now, and so is my dentist.
The Body-Brain Connection
This experience was a sharp reminder of a really important concept in Applied Behaviour Analysis: look carefully at the WHY of the behaviour before throwing a solution at it, experiment carefully with different variables, and look at the whole picture, not just a tiny piece. There’s a whole process called Functional Analysis that behaviour analysts use to address significant problem behaviour, because research has demonstrated that when we try to guess at the reason without a proper assessment, we often guess wrong. Functional Analysis includes interviews, and carefully designed test conditions, because sometimes we can’t afford to be wrong, especially in cases of serious aggression or self-harm.
When you are looking at a difficult behaviour, be careful not to jump to conclusions about the “why.” It’s not always obvious (e.g., I was eating, but I wasn’t hungry.) If you are really stuck, and the obvious solutions aren’t working, ask for help.
Behaviour never happens in a vacuum, even inside a single body. It’s not only silly but dangerous to be narrow-minded when trying to approach problem-behaviour. We are whole people, not machines. I oversimplified, treated my body like a machine, and suffered needlessly.
In the comments or on my Facebook page, tell me about a time you found a weird sensory hack (for yourself or your kids!)