The Human Version of Kennel Stress

I’ve always related to kennel-stressed animals. Starting my career in an animal shelter was an eye opening introduction to animal behavior, and as I walked the kennels each morning, I couldn’t help but feel a familiar anxiety when walking by a shut down cat or a dog who couldn’t sit still. Even more astonishing was watching a cat absolutely transform from a fractious, fearful little creature in the back of a kennel to a loving, relaxed companion animal in a larger meet and greet room. Simply changing the animal’s environment was enough to bring out their true colors.

As a neurodivergent individual, I find myself forcing myself to function through the human version of kennel stress - overstimulation - almost daily. I’m hyper sensitive to lighting (the big light is simply NOT allowed to be on in my house and fluorescent lighting is the bane of my existence), smells (cleaning supplies and perfumes can trigger a panic attack), noise (trying to concentrate in an open concept office is impossible most days), and clothing (polyester blouses and tight fighting waistbands don’t exist in my wardrobe anymore). And while I can control these factors in the safety of my own exhibit (home), many times contributing to society means leaving my safe bubble and operating in areas that are simply too much for my mind and body to process.

I’ve been told I have an excellent poker face, that I’m intimidating, that I can be too quiet or not engaged in conversations. But what the people making these comments don’t see is my internal software operating overtime to overcome the discomfort caused by the subtly flickering light overhead, or the whizzing noise of the appliance nearby, or the remnants of someone’s perfume. I’m not much of a computer whiz, but when 90% of my brain power is working through all of those challenges, it’s no surprise that the remaining 10% used for social interactions is a little bumpy. That poker face (RBF, anyone?) or quietness isn’t me being intentionally rude, it’s me trying to process an entire bucketload of information at once to keep myself regulated.

As a child, I could play Zoo Tycoon for hours (thank you hyperfocus), and I loved designing animal exhibits. When I started my job in the zoo field, it was my childhood dream come true to watch as new exhibits were planned and built. But what piqued my curiosity the most were the steps taken when an animal wasn’t acclimating well to their environment. The observations, the data collection, the introduction of new behavioral enrichment - so much time, energy, and effort were dedicated to better understanding why the animal wasn’t doing well and what steps could be taken to improve their quality of life. 

After my AuDHD diagnosis at 29, I did a sort of observation on myself, since I too was an animal displaying signs of discomfort and unease in my own environment. I soon realized that the environments I was putting myself in weren’t meant for me, so I set to work making small changes that would improve my quality of life, even if that meant going against societal norms. As a woman, I’ve always felt the pressure to conform to beauty standards, especially the need to wear makeup lest you appear “lazy” or “unprofessional.” However, the feeling of foundation and mascara sets my nervous system on fire, so I stopped wearing them daily. Clothing followed similar suit, and I started building a wardrobe based on comfort rather than appearance, even if that meant getting some interesting looks of judgement from others. As someone with multiple food sensitivities, eating can be challenging, even more so when you’re worried that your coworkers might judge you or be slightly inconvenienced by your food choices. I let go of that fear of judgement and started to eat what worked best for my body, when it worked best for my body, like having stew for breakfast or lunch at 10 am. 

What’s really interesting to me is the instant empathy of humans in response to an animal not doing well in their enclosure, but when a human speaks up about struggling due to their environment, many times we’re told to grin and bear it. I would love to see a world where that empathy transcends to all creatures (including us humans) and we all receive the support we need to design our lives and environments to work for us. In the meantime, I’ll be happily adding more enrichment to my enclosure and encouraging others to do the same.