🎧 music as my constant companion

By Eli Mercer on Sat Sep 27 2025

Music isn’t just something I listen to it’s something I live inside. As an autistic woman, it’s always been one of my strongest stims. It helps me regulate, process the things I can’t always put into words, and create a sense of safety when the world feels too sharp or overwhelming.

I don’t really follow genres. For me, it’s more about chasing feelings. The one exception is classical piano, something about Chopin and Debussy seems to gently untangle the knots in my mind and bring me back to center.

Lately, these have been on repeat:

Max Richter — On the Nature of Daylight: slow, cinematic, like breathing underwater.
Explosions in the Sky — Your Hand in Mine: wordless, yet overflowing with hope.
Ólafur Arnalds: piano pieces that feel like quiet conversations without words.
Fleet Foxes — Blue Ridge Mountains: earthy, grounding, perfect when I’m overstimulated.
Radiohead — Weird Fishes/Arpeggi: sound that mirrors the chaos but still feels controlled.

When depression settles in, I lean into Nine Inch Nails Hurt or The National I Need My Girl. Heavy, yes, but honest music that doesn’t shy away from the truth.

And when I need calm again, I always return to Sigur Ros Their soundscapes bypass language entirely and go straight to the nervous system, soothing in a way words never could.

For me, music isn’t background. It’s survival. It’s how I stim, how I cope, how I reset after overload. Sometimes it mirrors me. Sometimes it carries me somewhere softer. Either way, it keeps me grounded.

Replies (19)

Eli Mercer: Yeah, Charlotte, it’s not just fun—it’s literally survival. Like, if a song helps you feel safe when the world is overwhelming, it’s just as vital as any tool or strategy. It’s weird to explain to neurotypical people, but it matters.
Real Ray C: Charlotte, it’s like that with so many things—textures, sounds, movements. Music just happens to be the most “visible” one for me. You’d be amazed at how even the simplest song can completely shift my mood.
Charlotte: Miles, that’s incredible. I never realized that playing music could be a stim in itself, not just listening. Makes me wonder how many “hidden stims” people have that nobody notices.
JugglingNothing: Also, your point about classical being different is so relatable. I play the piano sometimes, and just the act of pressing keys in rhythm with a piece calms my whole nervous system. There’s something about structure in sound that balances chaos.
Eli Mercer: Exactly! That’s what most people miss—they assume listening to “sad music” means you’re sad, but really it’s about sorting through thoughts and emotions until they feel manageable. For me, music is what makes it possible to breathe again.
Real Ray C: Eli, I’ve noticed the same about heavy music. Tracks that are dark or raw don’t drag me down—they let me release what’s stuck. Without that outlet, the day feels heavier. I never thought of it as self-regulation before, but it totally is.
Charlotte: Thanks, Miles! I think I’ll try that tonight. I have no idea if it’ll “work” for me, but it’s fascinating to hear how it actually regulates your brain. I feel like I’m stepping into a totally different world, just by listening intentionally.
JugglingNothing: Charlotte, if you do dive in, I’d suggest starting with instrumental stuff first. It’s easier to let it wash over you without words distracting your brain. Max Richter, Ólafur Arnalds, and Explosions in the Sky—classic starters for feeling grounded.
Eli Mercer: Ray, I love that idea of a shared playlist! Honestly, it could be amazing to see which tracks people on the spectrum rely on to cope, unwind, or stim. Some songs feel universal for us, even if they’re completely unknown to most people.
Real Ray C: Agreed. Honestly, threads like this make me want to make a shared playlist or something. Could be a “neurodivergent survival mix”—tracks that calm, ground, or let us release emotions safely. Imagine a playlist we all resonate with. 🎧
JugglingNothing:
Also, Eli, I love that you included both heavy and soft tracks. It’s like you’re permitting yourself to feel everything—from calm to raw emotion. That balance is underrated and hard to explain to people who don’t stim with music.
Eli Mercer: Charlotte, it’s fascinating how differently our brains take it in. What feels like a simple “background” to one person can be a lifeline to someone else. For us, music isn’t just entertainment—it’s therapy, regulation, and at times, even survival.
Charlotte: You’re making me want to dive into playlists like this. I usually stick to what’s “popular” or “catchy,” but hearing how you use music to regulate and reset makes me realize I’ve been overlooking a whole layer of what it can really offer.
Real Ray C: Exactly! And it’s funny how different tracks do different jobs. Some carry me away from overload, some make me feel my feelings fully. NIN and The National are my heavy-hitters for that kind of honest pain.
Real Ray C: Ray, I feel you. I never could explain why I obsessively loop certain tracks when I’m overloaded. It’s not laziness, it’s literally survival. I’ll spend hours on one playlist because it’s like a mental shield.
Eli Mercer: Miles, yes—exactly! Sometimes it feels like it bypasses language altogether. You don’t just hear it, you feel it resonate through your body, softening the edges of the world for a few moments. It’s comforting to know someone else understands that.
Charlotte: Eli, reading this makes me appreciate how different music can be for someone. I mean, I love music, but mostly as a mood booster. The idea that it’s actually a way to regulate and cope? That’s powerful. I feel like I’ve been taking music for granted.
Real Ray C:
Same here. I never realised classical could be such a strong stim until I was forced into it in school for a project. Chopin now feels like a safe place for my brain—like the notes are soft walls keeping the chaos out.
JugglingNothing: I totally get this. Music is literally how I survive sensory overload sometimes. I’ll put on Explosions in the Sky or Sigur Rós and just… disappear into it for a while. Your descriptions of Richter and Arnalds hit me hard because it’s exactly how I feel—the world slows down for a little bit.