When I would lie in bed at night as a child, I used to see linear brick patterns spawn from the static in my vision, often red or green in colour.
I thought I was magic.
I could summon these patterns by opening my closed palm. The longer I kept my hand closed under the covers, the more extravagant the pattern would be when I opened it. If I was super patient, I would see my favourite pattern: small electric rose bushes.
It sounds bizarre in retrospect. I think my vivid childhood imagination wanted to literally connect the dots.
I’m now 31 (female and neurodivergent) and I’ve had visual snow for as long as I can remember. Because it had always been there, I assumed it was simply “the norm”. It wasn’t until I mentioned the “static in the air” to a friend in my 20s that I realised other people weren’t seeing the same thing.
That’s still exactly how I would describe it: colourful, ever-present TV static, or tiny electric dots in the air, accompanied by consistent flashes and drags of larger light.
It feels a little like the visual equivalent of white noise. Because I’ve had it for as long as I can remember, I’m mostly used to it, and my brain seems to ignore it a lot of the time. It’s the only vision I’ve ever known, so I have nothing to compare it to, although I can imagine the clarity if it were suddenly gone.
When I explain it to people, they often ask how I can see well enough to do my work. I’m a graphic designer and artist, so it makes sense that they assume my vision must be impaired, and I suppose in a way it is. But it’s the only vision I’ve ever had, and I perform well on standard optometry tests.
I usually explain that the static is always moving, and moving fast. I can still technically see through and around it.
It becomes consciously distracting mostly at night, in very bright environments, or when I’m looking at blank or negative space. I’ve struggled in poorly lit offices in the past, but I now work from home, so I’m lucky to be able to regulate my surroundings. In the wrong conditions, the visual noise can become quite overpowering. I find the busier the scene, the less noticeable the VS.
Now that I understand visual snow as something distinct, I’m much more curious about what sits behind it.
I’d love to learn more about how visual snow relates to neurodivergence and other sensory processing differences. I often wonder whether the way I experience visual input is connected to how I process sound, light, movement and other sensory information more broadly, as well as how VSS can contribute to feelings of social anxiety and disassociation, creating a distance or film between mind and reality.
With that in mind, and all negatives aside, I think it’s kind of cool to have experienced the world in such a unique and colourful way.
