Every Move You Make

I've been a bit quiet on here recently. Busy. Stuff. Getting on with the day-to-day. Cactus has been doing really well most of the time, and we're both seeing some light in the tunnel, if not the actual end of it. We have the Miso Monster cornered for now in an uneasy truce, like a cat that stares unblinking at you for an age whilst it decides whether to settle down for a nap or bite your arm off.

Whilst we're in this period of relative calm I had promised to tell you about Misokinesia. This often comes with Misophonia as a two-for-one bundle; in our case this particular bonus turned up a few months after the Misophonia became obvious.

Misokinesia is an extreme sensitivity to the movements of others, with the same reactions of discomfort, distress and rage. It's thought that up to 30% of people experience this to a degree, though most of them don't have the extreme, heightened reaction of people like my Cactus.

We first noticed it one morning in the car. I have Raynaud's Phenomenon and possibly the very early stages of rheumatoid arthritis so my fingers get cold and stiff (my current car has a game-changing heated steering wheel which is genuinely the best thing I have ever owned). Sometimes I flex my hand to ease the discomfort. One particular morning Cactus spotted this. "What the hell are you doing?" Stretching my fingers. "Why?" Because they're stiff. "That's disgusting!"

Over the next few car journeys it became a huge thing, and at home too. That same eagle-eyed scrutiny when the Miso Monster anticipates a trigger, that same intense and angry reaction.

Years ago I did a public speaking course. The trainers wanted to make us aware of all our physical tics and hand movements, so they filmed us doing a talk wearing boxing gloves. They played back the film at 10x speed, and all you could see was a red blur of wild movement. We were astonished at how many hand gestures, twitches and tics we all had. I'm reminded of that now, as my hand movements are mercilessly observed from the back seat. Glares when I change gear. Tuts when I shift my hands on the wheel. My cold, stiff fingers remain unflexed.

We've worked out that the best solution is for her to sit directly behind me so she can't see most of it. I'm back in Harry Potter world again, avoiding the worst of the Basilisk's gaze by seeing it obliquely in my rear view mirror. Whilst it's uncomfortable for us both, it works. For now. But we live in a rural village with scant public transport and little option but to drive everywhere, 60 miles a day on school runs alone. I'm crossing my fingers (out of sight, under the table) that it doesn't get any worse.

And I'm seriously considering changing to a car with automatic transmission to avoid the morning Death Stare. As long as it has a heated steering wheel.