Sensory Living
It’s been a while!
After months of my husband recovering from surgery and then getting the flu, I powered through looking after him and my five year old and keeping things ticking, but when you have an invisible condition you do have to be careful that it doesn’t sneak up on you.
In 2010 at age 23 I was diagnosed with Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus, after years of blinding headaches and sporadic fainting. A particularly dramatic faint in the cinema bar whilst waiting to see Avatar resulted in concussion, and an A&E scan discovered puddles of fluid on my brain. I was lucky enough to physiologically qualify for something called an Endoscopic Third Verticulostomy (ETV) which spared me the problematic but more common shunt, but was warned by my lovely neurosurgeon that the symptoms would only ever be controlled, not cured.
Hydrocephalus is essentially when your spinal fluid doesn’t drain properly, flooding your brain and increasing intracranial pressure. The ETV involved creating an opening inside my brain to allow the fluid to drain more easily - whereas a shunt is a tube that goes from your brain to your stomach, draining the fluid effectively but often recognised by your body as a foreign object or prone to infection, commonly resulting in numerous follow up surgeries to replace the tube.
When I’m exhausted or viral the symptoms flare up, usually showing up as tunnel vision, tremors in my hands, tinnitus, fatigue, darkened vision, and a strange swollen sensation around my neck. It’s difficult to describe, but perhaps fittingly as hydrocephalus translates to water brain, feels mostly like my head is underwater. If I feel the symptoms creeping up, C goes straight to the base of my head, telling me whether it feels “squishy” as the fluid pools.
I’ve had vision problems since I was very young, perhaps caused by the hydrocephalus, and as such I have always been very aware of my bedrooms or houses in terms of how they feel. Whilst I can see pretty well with glasses or lenses, though only via my left eye, I have always navigated my space more by touch. Because of my unbalanced vision I am very prone to bashing my right shoulder into walls or my right foot into furniture, and so touch and texture as well as practical furniture placement is really important. You should be able to walk around your house with your eyes closed. A challenge perhaps? Having to step over or around things as you go about your daily list is yet another subconscious task to keep on top of, so clear your walkways.
When my hydro flares up I’m fairly housebound, and for those with health problems or not, I am a huge believer in our homes being a therapeutic space. Whether you’re a minimalist, maximalist, or something in between, our homes should be full of colours, textures and materials that contribute positively to our physical and mental health.
A large part of this for me, living in our tiny two-bedroom mid-terrace, is keeping on top of any clutter. I’m a huge fan of Stacey Solomon’s Sort Your Life Out show, and whilst few of us are in the position to lay out all of our possessions in a warehouse, you can do it in stages. Start with a drawer, empty it and spread it all out, and pick out what you no longer want or need. Then onto a cupboard, and soon a room is done. Be firm with yourself - objects are not memories, and if you haven’t used something in the last year you probably won’t in the next…
With the clutter gone, you can concentrate more on the objects you love. One of my favourite kitchen objects is a heavy pestle & mortar, made from a pleasingly rough black stone. I have too many old wooden boards, and one of my first purchases from Rowen & Wren, a round marble cheese board. Our counter-tops are solid wood, and I’ve added more wood to the walls - an antique dresser top and typeface tray. The shelves I fill with beautiful pebble smooth ceramics in natural colours and glazes. I wish I had wooden floors, but we rent and so I top the lino with jute rugs and brass furniture legs. Bring in a few houseplants for your animal brain, cover utilitarian areas with nice doors or fabric, and always light candles. Personally I love plain old beeswax, or scents of the sea (Wood Sage & Sea Salt from Jo Malone is always top of my wishlist).
Of course I have a five year old, and so brightly coloured plastic sneaks in - I’m not a monster. But we adapted an Ikea cupboard for his toys, fitting it with brass handles to match those in the house already, and painting it in my favourite yellow-green The Tobacconist from COAT. Colour has such an impact on furniture - even if you’re not changing your cupboards, colour can completely change how they feel. Personally I lean towards muddier tones - deep taupes, mossy greens, plummy browns, but this applies just as much if you love Barbie pink, postbox red or electric blues.
All of this to say, be mindful of what you surround yourself with. Touch and smell and light and a sense of space are all as important as what is nice on the eye. My hope for everyone is that they walk through their door after a long day and feel the weight of the outside world lifted. After a day in the strip-lit office, I want to wash up or prep dinner in just the light from the window. Speaking of natural light, let as much in as you can. Don't block it out with objects or furniture, and if you have to have curtains or blinds up during the day for privacy, make sure they're sheer enough to do both jobs. Natural linen or cotton does this very well. You can always have two layers of curtains, one light and one heavier for warmth or cosiness in bedrooms or your living room.
Paying attention to the small things around your house is never wasted. You walk on those rugs, turn the handles, dig through the drawers tens of times a day, even more so now that so many of us work from home. More than ever our houses must be multifunctional spaces, but above all they should support our mental and physical health.
