When Background Noise Feels Like Chaos:
AuDHD and the War on Sound
By Michelle Labine, PhD
September 2025
I love music. Give me a good playlist and I’ll dance in the kitchen like no one’s watching (except maybe my dog, who tilts his head like, “Really? That’s your move?”). I enjoy TV too…when I’m actually watching it. But background noise? Whole different story.
Turn on the evening news while I’m making dinner and suddenly I’m ready to throw the remote out the window. Step into a grocery store with the radio chattering away and I’m one bad song away from abandoning my cart in the cereal aisle.
Background noise for me isn’t background at all, it’s like every sound is front-row, center stage, screaming for my attention.
Why It’s So Maddening
My brain doesn’t do “mute.” Where a neurotypical person might shrug and say, “Oh, I barely notice the TV in the background,” I zero in on every word, every jingle, every dramatic swell like I’m about to be tested on it later. Picture this: I’m sitting at the table, trying to read a recipe. In the background, the news anchor is talking about politics, the music swells ominously, and then BAM—a car insurance ad cuts in. To most people, that’s just white noise. To me, it feels like five people leaning over my shoulder, shouting, “SO WHAT ARE WE HAVING FOR DINNER? DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE STOCK MARKET? BUY CAR INSURANCE NOW!”
And it’s not just at home. Out in the world, things get even louder. Shopping should be simple—go in, grab the bread, leave. But instead, the store radio hosts are laughing over each other, the cashier is calling for a price check, a toddler is screaming about Paw Patrol, and I’m just trying to read a cereal box like it’s my doctoral thesis. By the time I finally step outside, I feel like I’ve been trapped in a buzzing beehive.
ADHD only ramps it up. Any competing sound instantly hijacks my attention, so while I want to focus on the groceries, my brain is screaming, “Oh! The talk show hosts are debating pineapple on pizza, better give this 100% of your energy right now.” It’s the same reason I have to turn down the radio when I’m driving and looking for an address. My brain seems to believe I can’t both read house numbers and listen to music at the same time and honestly, it’s not wrong. The irony is that I love a good car concert. Windows up, volume loud, me belting like I’m headlining a sold-out show. But the second I need to find house #42? Dead silence. Sorry Beyoncé, you’ll have to wait until I’ve parked.
The Plot Twist: I Actually Love Music and TV
Here’s the twist: even though background noise fries my brain, I genuinely love music and I enjoy TV when I choose them. That’s because music is predictable, my playlist doesn’t suddenly cut to a loud ad, and it actually regulates me instead of overwhelming me. And when TV is the main thing I’m doing, I can focus and enjoy it. The difference is choice and control. When sound is intentional, it’s comfort. When it’s forced into the background, it’s chaos.
Coping in Daily Life
Living in a world full of background noise takes some trial and error, and over time I’ve figured out a few strategies that make things easier. At home, I keep the TV and radio off unless I’m actively watching or listening. Instead, I’ll put on a playlist I’ve chosen, play nature sounds, or just enjoy silence. My partner, on the other hand, lives for background noise. It’s not unusual for him to have the TV running, carry on a conversation, and juggle a task all at once, basically the sensory Olympics. To me, that combination feels like standing in the middle of a crowded airport with announcements blaring overhead. We’ve had to find middle ground: if we’re going to talk, the TV gets muted or paused making our space livable for both of us.
Public spaces bring their own challenges. Shopping, for example, is far less overwhelming when I wear noise-canceling earbuds. Sometimes I’ll play quiet instrumental music or nature sounds so my brain has one predictable channel of input instead of being pulled in ten directions. Without that buffer, I’m white-knuckling my cart through a storm of chatter, radio ads, and fluorescent lights, counting the minutes until I can get out.
Communication with others helps too. When I explain, “I can’t filter background voices it feels like ten people talking at once,” people usually get it. Framing it as a brain difference instead of a quirk helps me advocate for myself without shame. And humour goes a long way. A quick, “If you want me to actually hear you, we’ve got to mute CNN first,” usually earns a laugh and the remote.
The Bottom Line
At the end of the day, sound isn’t the enemy, lack of control is. For AuDHD brains, background noise isn’t just “there,” it’s invasive, relentless, and draining. But when I get to choose what I’m listening to whether it’s silence, the hum of rain sounds, or Beyoncé at full volume it shifts from chaos to comfort. Protecting my sensory world isn’t about being picky; it’s about preserving the energy I need to live, work, and love fully. And honestly? That feels like the kind of harmony worth fighting for.