AuDHD Festival Goer

Latitude Vibes

I never thought I would go to a festival, four nights of sleeping in a tent, shared toilet and shower facilities, four days of non-stop activity, not to mention ALL THOSE PEOPLE. As an introverted, slightly odd teenager I watched my siblings go with a mix of fear and awe, wondering if there was any way I could manage it.

I never expected to discover I am neurodivergent. Yes I am another one of those over- diagnosed middle aged women who sat in her teenager’s ADHD assessment and heard her own behaviour listed out as symptoms.

I’ve always felt a bit unusual, a little on the outside of things looking in, but there were multiple reasons for that. I was born with a heart defect so couldn’t play like most children, I was made aware of my own mortality very young. I was the oldest of six children so my family set up was unusual. I was and am very small, standing at just 5 foot. I was a “gifted child”. Growing up in the 80’s that was as close as I would have found myself to a diagnosis, and not an entirely helpful one at that.

I am now going through my own diagnosis process, following my children, both of whom are neurodivergent. And unexpectedly it is helping me to do some of the things I wanted to do when I was younger but thought was not for me. Becoming more accepting and compassionate towards my oddities has allowed me to find work arounds so that I did not just go to Latitude Festival, I had a BLAST while I was there.

This is a little bit about how.

I know I don’t do well if I don’t sleep well. My ability to regulate my emotions and my body temperature is highly affected by my sleep so any trip needed to take account of that. Knowing that light and sound were likely to be an issue, both of which will wake me up, I went prepared. 

I had a Beauty Pie silk eye mask to block out the light and some Loop Dream earplugs to block out the noise. With these two gizmos I created my own sensory deprivation space. Given that one night involved being caught between a man snoring in the tent next to me and a man snoring in the camp bed next to me, these were a Godsend and my sleep was protected.

Sound is more generally something that affects me a lot and I knew it would be noisy so I also had some Loop Experience earplugs with handy chain so I could put them in and take them out as needed. I also had my Apple noise cancelling AirPods which I used to listen to an audiobook while I sat in a deckchair, allowing me to create my own environment.

One of my favourite topics is psychology and neuroscience so I was very much in my element listening to Robin Ince, Gina Rippon and Camilla Pang talk about neurodivergence. I found myself smiling at the discoveries others had made that they need interest and they need regular exercise in order to manage the sensitivity and energy that comes with a differently wired brain. I also recognised in myself the reluctance to go for a diagnosis in case I was “normal” and just wasn’t very good at being human. 

The corollary to being sensitive to unpleasant noise is that beautiful noise can feel utterly sublime. Being able to bathe in live music and allow myself to be moved by it was transformative. I found myself with tears rolling down my face at the beauty of Avawaves and Mika, glowing with delight at Chloe Qisha and her wry humour and bursting with joy during the two hour fever dream that was Fat Boy Slim’s set.

I did not try to head to the front during the main stage gigs, the headline acts. I watched and listened happily from a distance, knowing that the crush of the crowd was not for me. In the smaller venues, in the Forest and at the Waterfront I was happy to move closer and feel the thrill of being in touching distance of some incredible musicians, their music pulsing through my body.

Latitude for me then was a mix of a late diagnosis, a late entry to the festival party and a recognition that for joy, it is never too late.