When Your Brain Decides to DJ at the Sensory Nightclub
Hey there, BigJohnshow here. Ever had the number 7 taste like burnt toast? Or felt a physical ache when someone else gets a paper cut? No? Just me then. Welcome to my world—a place where reality comes with bonus features nobody ordered.
I've spent most of my life experiencing the world differently than most people around me. Words have flavors. Sounds have colors. Other people's physical sensations become my own. It's like living in a permanent episode of The Twilight Zone, except Rod Serling never shows up to explain the plot twist.
This is my story of mirror-touch synesthesia and maladaptive daydreaming—or as I like to call it, "feeling everything while escaping everything."
What's Actually Happening in My Brain?
Let's get technical for a second. Mirror-touch synesthesia is a neurological condition where observing someone else being touched triggers the same sensation in your own body. See someone get slapped? Yep, my cheek stings. Watch someone bite into ice cream? Hello, brain freeze.
Scientists believe it involves hyperactive mirror neurons—those brain cells responsible for empathy. Basically, my empathy dial is permanently cranked to eleven.
Then there's the maladaptive daydreaming—elaborate fantasy worlds where I spend hours, mentally choreographing detailed scenarios with plotlines more complex than most Netflix originals. These aren't your casual "what if" thoughts. These are immersive mental movies that can hijack my entire day.
A Day in My Overstimulated Life
7:30 AM: Wake up feeling the phantom pain of my neighbor stubbing their toe. They're renovating their bathroom. I know this because I physically feel every hammer strike.
8:15 AM: Brushing teeth while watching morning news. Seeing a report about someone falling off a bike sends tingles down my right side. Thanks, mirror neurons.
9:30 AM: Work meeting. My colleague touches her neck while talking. Suddenly I'm adjusting a phantom necklace that isn't there.
12:00 PM: Lunch break. Perfect time for my brain to start a fresh episode of "What If BigJohnshow Was a Famous Podcast Producer?" Today's episode features me interviewing an underwater archaeologist who discovered an ancient civilization. It's riveting stuff—too bad it's only playing in my head.
The real world feels dull by comparison.
3:00 PM: Someone slams a door. The sound is bright yellow and tastes like pennies. I'm not being poetic—this is literally my experience.
5:30 PM: Time to go home, but my mind is still replaying the moment when someone got a paper cut during the afternoon meeting. My finger throbs in solidarity.
The Unexpected Superpowers
Not everything about this neurological carnival is a curse. There are some pretty wild upsides:
1.Emotional intelligence on steroids: I don't just understand how people feel—I literally feel it. Makes me great at detecting bullshit and reading a room.
2.Creativity that won't quit: When your brain constantly mixes sensory experiences and creates elaborate internal worlds, you're never short on creative ideas.
3.Music appreciation level: god-tier: You haven't really heard Beethoven until you've tasted his Symphony No. 7 in A major (it's butterscotch with hints of clove, in case you're wondering).
4.Memory enhancement: I remember experiences with multiple sensory hooks. That business meeting from 2017? Remember it perfectly because the presenter's voice was forest green and smelled like cinnamon.
When It All Becomes Too Much
Let's not sugarcoat this—there are days when I'd trade it all for a neurotypical brain in a heartbeat.
The worst is crowded places. Imagine feeling every shoulder bump, every handshake, every emotional state in a packed subway car. It's like being a human antenna picking up everyone's physical and emotional signals at once.
Then there are the daydreaming episodes that steal hours from my day. I've missed deadlines, forgotten appointments, and let relationships wither because the world in my head was more compelling than reality. It's addiction-level escapism without the substances.
Medical professionals call it "maladaptive" for a reason. When your coping mechanism becomes the thing you need to cope with, you're caught in a feedback loop from hell.
How I Stay Grounded (Most Days)
After years of thinking I was just weird or overly sensitive, learning about mirror-touch synesthesia and maladaptive daydreaming was like finding the user manual to my brain. Here's what helps me navigate life with an overactive sensory system:
1. Environment Control
I've designed my living space as a sensory sanctuary. Soft textures, neutral colors, and noise-canceling everything. My apartment might look boring to you, but it's a necessary reset for my constantly cross-wiring brain.
2. The Grounding Toolkit
When sensory overload hits or I catch myself disappearing into daydreams, I have emergency grounding techniques:
Cold water on wrists
Strong, singular scents (peppermint oil is my go-to)
Rhythmic counting while tapping my fingers
Naming five things I can see, four I can touch, three I can hear, two I can smell, and one I can taste
3. Scheduled Daydreaming
Fighting the daydreams only makes them stronger. Instead, I allocate specific times for my mind to wander. It's like giving a hyperactive dog a designated time to run—much better than having it tear up the furniture all day.
4. Finding My Tribe
Connecting with other synesthetes and maladaptive dreamers online has been life-changing. Nothing validates your experience like someone else saying, "Wait, you taste colors too?!"
The Creative Upside to Sensory Chaos
I've channeled my unique neurological wiring into my work at Mirror-touch synesthesia, our podcast production company. When you experience sound as color, texture, and taste, you develop a different approach to audio storytelling.
Our most popular podcast series explores sensory experiences through sound—creating audio landscapes that trigger emotional and physical responses even in listeners without synesthesia. It's my way of translating my daily experience into something others can understand.
My maladaptive daydreaming fuels our storytelling approach. Those elaborate mental worlds now become podcast narratives instead of just brain distractions. What was once my greatest weakness has become my creative superpower.
Living Between Worlds
If you met me at a coffee shop, you'd never know what's happening inside my head. You wouldn't see how the espresso machine's hiss feels like tiny bubbles popping on my skin, or how the barista's laugh tastes like strawberries, or that I'm simultaneously having an entire imaginary conversation with Terry Gross where she's interviewing me about my synesthesia.
I exist in multiple realities at once—feeling everything, processing constant sensory mash-ups, while part of my consciousness crafts elaborate daydreams as an escape hatch.
It's exhausting. It's fascinating. It's my normal.
The Bottom Line
Living with mirror-touch synesthesia and maladaptive daydreaming means experiencing life through a kaleidoscope while everyone else sees through clear glass. It's not better or worse—just fundamentally different.
Some days I'm grateful for my unique neurological wiring. Other days I'd give anything for a volume knob to turn it all down. But this is the brain I've got, so I'm making the most of it—harnessing its creative potential while finding ways to function in a world that wasn't designed for people who feel everything.
If you're out there feeling everything too intensely or getting lost in daydreams that hijack your life, you're not alone. Your brain isn't broken—it's just remixing reality in its own special way.
And hey, the next time you meet someone who winces when you bump your elbow, or who seems to drift off into another dimension mid-conversation, maybe cut them some slack. They might just be experiencing the world in full surround-sound, technicolor, 4D glory.
—BigJohnshow
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