Imagine someone dancing to music you can’t hear or playing an invisible instrument. That’s what stimming feels like to me—an instinctive rhythm, a connection to something deep within, invisible to everyone else.
For me, stimming isn’t just a coping mechanism or a response to overwhelm—it’s my love language. It’s how I soothe myself, express joy, and reconnect with my body in a chaotic world. And yes, it looks weird sometimes, but I’ve stopped apologizing for it.
What Is Stimming, Anyway?
Stimming, short for self-stimulatory behavior, is repetitive movements or sounds that help regulate emotions, focus, and sensory input. While everyone stims to some degree (think tapping your foot or chewing on a pen), autistic people often stim more visibly or intensely.
My Personal Stimming Favorites
- Rocking:
- Whether it’s in a chair, on the floor, or while standing, the rhythmic motion helps me calm down and reset.
- Tapping:
- I have a favorite spot on the table at work where I tap out patterns during meetings. It’s subtle but keeps me focused.
- Spinning Objects:
- Fidget spinners, coins, or even a spoon in my coffee cup—if it spins, I’m mesmerized.
- Humming:
- Soft, repetitive humming is my way of blocking out overwhelming noise or grounding myself in stressful situations.
- Fidget Toys:
- My collection includes squishy balls, tangles, and a metallic infinity cube that feels oddly satisfying in my hands.
Why Stimming Matters to Me
- It’s Comforting:
- Stimming is like wrapping myself in a cozy blanket. It helps me feel safe and centered.
- It’s Expressive:
- When words fail me, stimming becomes my way of communicating emotions—whether it’s flapping my hands in excitement or rocking during stress.
- It’s Regulating:
- In a world that often feels too bright, loud, or fast, stimming helps me process sensory input and stay grounded.
A Memory of Stimming Freedom
I remember a time in high school when I caught myself flapping my hands in public. I was excited about something—a good grade, maybe—but the moment I noticed people staring, I stopped. My face flushed with shame, and I spent the rest of the day trying to act “normal.”
Years later, at a local autism meetup, I saw someone else flapping their hands. Instead of judgment, I felt a wave of relief. It was like seeing a piece of myself reflected back, and for the first time, I realized stimming wasn’t something to hide.
The Stigma Around Stimming
- It’s Misunderstood:
- People often see stimming as “odd” or “disruptive” without understanding its purpose.
- It’s Suppressed:
- Autistic kids are frequently taught to stop stimming to appear more “normal,” which can lead to anxiety and burnout.
- It’s Devalued:
- Society prioritizes “acceptable” behaviors, ignoring the fact that stimming is a healthy, adaptive way to cope.
How I Embrace Stimming
- Own It:
- I’ve stopped apologizing for stimming, even if it means drawing a few curious glances.
- Educate Others:
- When people ask about my stimming, I explain it as a tool for managing stress and emotions.
- Create Safe Spaces:
- I surround myself with people who accept my quirks and make room for me to stim freely.
What I Wish People Knew About Stimming
- It’s Not a Problem:
- Stimming doesn’t need to be “fixed” or hidden. It’s a natural, healthy behavior.
- It’s Not Always Subtle:
- While some stims are small (like tapping fingers), others are bigger (like rocking). Both are valid.
- It’s Essential:
- Stimming isn’t optional for me—it’s how I navigate the world.
A Cultural Parallel
In The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the fox says, “What is essential is invisible to the eye.” That’s how I feel about stimming. To an outsider, it might seem strange or unnecessary, but for me, it’s an essential part of being.
FAQ
Q: How do you handle stimming in public?
A: I do what feels comfortable. Sometimes I opt for subtler stims, like fidgeting with a toy, but other times, I let myself rock or tap freely.
Q: What if someone criticizes your stimming?
A: I explain its importance if I feel safe to do so. Otherwise, I remind myself that their judgment doesn’t define me.
Q: Can stimming be harmful?
A: Some stims, like skin-picking, can be harmful if done excessively. In those cases, I try to find safer alternatives.
Final Thoughts
Stimming might look unusual to some, but for me, it’s a language of comfort, joy, and survival. It’s a reminder that being different isn’t just okay—it’s necessary.
If you’re a fellow stimmer, embrace it. Find what feels good, what calms you, and what helps you thrive. And if you need me, you’ll find me here—rocking in my chair, tapping my fingers, and unapologetically being myself.
