Today is July 9th— World Misophonia Awareness Day

I’ve lived with misophonia for most of my life — yet it was only recently that I learned July 9th is World Misophonia Awareness Day. This day is not only about raising awareness of the condition, but it’s also now tied to the tragic story of Michelle de Valle, a young woman who took her life after struggling with misophonia.

My heart goes out to her. From everything I’ve read, it seems Michelle ended her life solely because the pain of living with with misophonia became too great. I can resonate with that — deeply.

There were times when my own battle with misophonia felt impossible to overcome. I thought I’d be trapped in that mental hell forever. The idea of a normal life — of peace — felt so far out of reach.

I was young when my misophonia was at its worst, and while I thankfully never struggled directly with suicidal thoughts, I think that's due to a few factors. I grew up in a conservative, God-fearing home where suicide simply wasn’t in my worldview — it didn’t even exist in my paradigm. And, frankly, I was scared death and dying; I was a child.

But that doesn’t mean I didn’t suffer. I did. I romanticized the idea of not existing. And that was a heavy thought to carry as a preteen.

I remember imagining that my family — my mom, dad, and younger brother (and eventually both younger brothers) — would be better off without me. It’s painful to think back on those thoughts now. I remember, vividly, being on a beach vacation and writing a letter explaining why I was running away — how I thought their lives would be better without me in it.

I didn’t get far. I turned around, walked back to where we were staying, and tore the letter up. But the emotional weight of wanting to “free” my family from the burden of my suffering stayed with me. I wanted relief from the pain, the guilt, and the shame. I didn’t want to die — I just didn’t want to feel like this anymore.

Looking back, I truly believe that if I had continued suffering the way I was — or if it had gotten any worse — those early fantasies of disappearing could have evolved into suicidal thoughts in my later years. I’m grateful that didn’t happen. But I know not everyone is so lucky.

That’s why I believe days like today matter.

Misophonia is still widely misunderstood. I’ve encountered people who don’t even believe it’s real — people who can’t imagine that the sound of chewing, breathing, or a pen clicking could provoke rage, panic, or hopelessness. And even beyond misophonia, mental health struggles in general still carry so much stigma.

So yes, I support having a day dedicated to misophonia awareness — not just to validate those who are struggling, but to remind them they’re not alone.

To Michelle: I didn’t know you, but I mourn you. You deserved relief. You deserved to be heard and understood. I hope sharing stories like mine can carry a small piece of what you couldn’t say loud enough in time.

And to anyone out there who is suffering silently — please know that what you're feeling is real. And there is a way forward. It’s not always fast, or easy, but it’s possible. I'm living proof.