My Friend Has Misophonia
I’ve known this guy since childhood. We weren’t always close, but we went to middle school and high school together. A few years ago, he found out that my brother and I were training in mixed martial arts. He came to check out our gym, and over time, someone I used to know became one of my closest friends. Now, I see him almost daily.
A few weeks ago, after a sparring session, he asked my brother not to suck the saliva out of his mouthguard. The sound my brother made was sharp and piercing, almost a mix of slurping and smacking. It never bothered me much—aside from noticing it once or twice, it wasn’t an issue. My brother looked at me, and I glanced back at him when our friend explained why the sound was so irritating to him. My brother quickly complied, but our friend kept trying to rationalize his sensitivity to it. Some of the other guys joined in on the conversation, and after a short discussion, we moved on. Still, I couldn’t shake the thought of how deeply it had bothered him. I began to wonder if he might have a mild form of misophonia.
I didn’t think much more of it until a few days later. My brother, my friend, and I went to another gym for some quality sparring. During one of the exchanges, my friend took a hard hit, and we later found out that he had broken his orbital socket and suffered a concussion. But, before he got seen by a doctor, I offered to take him to the ER, and during the drive, he was holding his head in pain, still bleeding a bit, and feeling nauseous. I kept the ride mostly silent, trying not to disturb him.
I grabbed a snack from my car—protein balls. They weren’t crunchy, so I didn’t think they’d be loud. A few bites in, my friend turned to me, apologized, and thanked me for driving him to the hospital. Then, he asked me to stop chewing so loudly because it was bothering him. I couldn’t help but laugh a little and assured him it was no problem. He seemed a little embarrassed but continued explaining, almost apologetically. I reassured him, saying I understood and that it made sense he’d be extra sensitive after the hit to the head.
He gave me a look that said he didn’t quite believe me, but he appreciated my consideration. In that moment, it hit me—my friend had misophonia. It wasn’t just a dislike of certain sounds; it was something that affected him much more deeply than I’d realized. I had finally met someone who shared this sensitivity, and I felt a deeper understanding of what it was like to experience it. I wasn’t concerned that he was exaggerating his reaction because he knew about my own sensitivity. I wanted to talk to him about it right then and there, but I knew the timing and place weren’t right.