Car rides with my partner can be a real challenge. He’s an ex-DJ who loves blasting music, but for me, that means battling strange visual effects while I drive. It’s hard to explain, but when I hear sound, it’s like I see flashes and shapes, almost like watching sound waves dance on a screen.
I discovered I have auditory-visual synaesthesia when I was in my 30s. Before that, I just knew I had a knack for languages. In school, learning Japanese was a breeze because I could visualize words and sounds. At university, I picked up Spanish, Korean, and Indonesian effortlessly. I even joined the air force as an intelligence officer, although I initially thought of being a teacher or translator.
The word “synaesthesia” landed on my radar while I was studying speech pathology after my military service. It was fascinating to learn that this condition lets one sense trigger experiences in another. I didn’t make any personal connections at first, even when I read about someone learning languages in hours. But as I delved deeper into speech and language, I started to notice how my synaesthesia affected my own experiences.
I joined a Facebook group of people who also see sounds. Interestingly, many of them perceive sounds in color, while my visuals are mostly black and white shapes. The colors I do see emerge only with high-frequency sounds, starting from bright white and moving through yellows to reds. This ability helps me pass hearing tests even in quiet settings.
My career took an exciting turn when I worked on transcribing Indigenous creole languages at Wollongong University. This led me to an opportunity with Apple, where I ended up working on Siri. Those 90 days spent transcribing Australian voices were some of the best of my life. Since then, I’ve also worked on projects with TomTom GPS and Bank of America, and I now help children and adults with communication and swallowing issues as a speech pathologist.
The rise of AI doesn’t worry me much. Language is full of nuances, and machines struggle to grasp these subtleties, especially with accents. For instance, I can easily decode a western Sydney Lebanese accent—something I wouldn’t trust AI to do accurately.
Despite the bustling sounds of life, my synaesthesia has its drawbacks. I often wear earplugs to manage the noise, and running to music is my favorite escape, as it quiets my mind.
Still, I wouldn’t change my synaesthesia for anything. Even if I lost my sight or limbs, losing my connection to words and sounds would be devastating. I feel incredibly fortunate to have found a career that resonates with me so deeply—my ikigai, as the Japanese say. I’d continue doing this work for free if I could.
Additional Insights
Research shows that synaesthesia affects about 4% of the population, though many people don’t realize they have it. Experts believe it may be linked to heightened neural connections in the brain. In recent years, social media trends have emerged where people share their unique sensory experiences, bringing more awareness to conditions like synaesthesia. It’s a conversation starter about how our brains perceive the world differently.
For further reading on the different types of synaesthesia and their effects, check out this comprehensive overview from ScienceDirect.
