neurodiversity

For most of my life, I felt like I was living in two worlds that never quite fit together. One moved too fast; the other felt too rigid. I could never really figure out why I was always a little out of sync with everyone else. Deep down, what I felt most was uncertainty and confusion — and it took a toll on me.

When I was finally diagnosed with ADHD and Autism later in life, everything started to come full circle. Suddenly, the patterns of my past came into focus. I felt a sense of freedom, but also a heavy sadness.

I was sad that I went so long without knowing who I really was inside. I pictured how differently my life might have been if I had known sooner. It feels like I lost a crucial piece of myself trying to fit in all the time. It’s difficult to fully let my mask down, but I’m slowly learning to peel it back — layer by layer.

I’m reintroducing myself to the young girl I abandoned early in life. The one I never properly met in the first place. The girl who became so used to masking that she truly believed she was someone she wasn’t.

The Overlap

Living with ADHD and Autism feels like trying to tune into two radio stations at once. Both have their own songs, but sometimes, they compete for volume.

My ADHD craves constant movement and novelty — it feeds on new ideas, projects, and passions. My Autism, on the other hand, seeks comfort in predictability and control. Together, they define how I navigate through life.

There are days when I can hyperfocus for hours, completely forgetting to eat or rest. Then there are days when the smallest change in plans feels nearly impossible to recover from. It’s not laziness or stubbornness — it’s the reality of existing in a brain that dances between extremes.

The Social Struggle

Socializing has always been complicated for me. I remember being at a friend’s birthday dinner a few years ago — everyone was laughing and chatting, their voices overlapping with the clinking of glasses and background music.

I smiled, nodded, and tried my best to keep up, but eventually, my energy ran out. I shut down completely and retreated inward. When that happens, I often feel a wave of guilt or embarrassment. Not because I did anything wrong, but because masking — pretending to be “okay” — takes a major toll.

Being in social situations drains me faster than anyone realizes. My ADHD makes me jump from topic to topic, and my Autism makes me overanalyze every word or gesture. Did I say too much? Did I interrupt? Did they notice my tears?

I often walk away from gatherings replaying everything I said, trying to decode what others might have meant. It’s exhausting, but it’s also my way of trying to connect — to understand and be understood.

Do you ever feel that way — like you want to connect, but your energy runs out before your heart does?

The Push and Pull

There’s this constant push and pull between my ADHD and Autism.

My ADHD drives me to chase inspiration. I recall one night when I decided to organize old photos into a new album — a simple task that turned into a late-night hyperfocus session until two in the morning. My Autism, meanwhile, craves stability. So, the next day, I crashed — needing silence and comfort shows to recharge.

Balancing both can be frustrating, but I’ve learned it’s also where my creativity lives. Between chaos and calm, between fire and stillness — that’s where I find myself.

Finding Beauty in the Chaos

For the longest time, I saw my differences as flaws. But now I see them as something to embrace.

My ADHD gives me spark — the ability to see possibilities and dive in with passion. My Autism gives me depth — the power to notice, to feel, and to truly listen. Together, they create the person I am: intuitive, curious, and deeply empathetic.

When I’m writing, those parts of me blend together beautifully. ADHD floods me with ideas; Autism organizes them into meaning. When I connect with someone, it’s genuine and heartfelt, because I know how precious understanding truly is.

I no longer try to “fix” these traits. Instead, I see them as unique qualities that shape who I am. I slow down when my mind races. I forgive myself for moments of overwhelm. And I remind myself that being neurodivergent isn’t about fitting into the mold — it’s about building one that fits me.

If I Could Tell My Younger Self

I would tell my younger self:

You are not difficult — your brain just moves differently.

You are not antisocial — you just need extra recovery time.

You are not flaky — you’re managing a mind that runs at its own rhythm.

I think about the younger me in high school, hiding in tucked-away corners during lunch because everywhere else felt too loud and overwhelming. Or the adult me, sitting in meetings, wanting to speak but feeling paralyzed by self-doubt.

Those moments weren’t failures. They were signs that my brain needed compassion — not correction.

“What if the things that make you different are the very things that make you beautiful?” - Unknown

#ADHD #Autism #AutismSpectrumDisorder #MentalHealth #Neurodiversity

Being neurodivergent comes with its own trials and tribulations. To truly feel that sense of belonging is something we chase after, day in and day out. I always thought that if I act “normal,” and hid my “flaws,” then I would be accepted and feel less different. But the thing is, I want to be accepted and recognized for being my true, authentic self.

Trying to belong in that way honestly left me feeling lonelier. My goal ultimately was to just blend in with the crowd, and I did, but it didn’t feel natural, and I felt like each time I masked, I’d lose a little piece of myself.

I’ve learned that belonging doesn’t come from making yourself shrink or being easier to understand. It comes from being seen for who you really are, quirks and all. I want to be accepted because of my differences, not in spite of them.

When you’re neurodivergent, you spend so much time trying to decipher the world. For me, I study people’s reactions, mirror their tone, and their energy. I masked so well that sometimes I even forget what my unmasked self feels like.

Growing up, I didn’t understand why I felt so different. I just assumed that I was a very shy person who had some difficulties with communication and connecting with others. I definitely made friends, but not exposing who I really was on the inside. My entire goal was just to blend in and not be noticed for my “oddities.” But that made me feel so incredibly lonely and isolated that I lost my sense of self.

Belonging feels exhausting after essentially holding your breath for years. It’s sitting with someone who doesn’t flinch when you need some quiet time, someone who doesn’t judge your pacing and fidgeting, and someone who doesn’t take things personally when you cancel plans because your brain is just too tired for people that day.

The real belonging that lasts, starts with finding yourself. I know that when I stopped trying to keep up with neurotypical expectations and started honoring what actually worked for me, felt liberating.

I’ve realized that the more I accept myself, the more I attract people who do too. I want to be around people who reach out with understanding, not judgment. People who don’t need me to explain myself on why I am the way that I am. They just know. With people like that, I don’t feel broken, I feel whole.

Belonging, I’ve learned, doesn’t happen when the world finally makes space for you.

It happens when you stop trying to squeeze yourself into spaces that were never meant to hold you.

“Belonging starts with self-acceptance. Your level of belonging, in fact, can never be greater than your level of self-acceptance.” - Brené Brown

#Neurodiversity #MentalHealth #ADHD #AutismSpectrumDisorder

I never learned how to be a friend in the way people expect.

So I give things.

Little offerings.

Snacks, coffee, books, a plant,

pieces of myself wrapped in gestures of care.

I do it without thinking. It’s the language my heart learned before words.

I thought kindness was the language of belonging.

I thought if I gave enough, maybe someone would open a window,

just a crack,

and let me in.

But they didn’t.

They took the gifts.

They smiled, said thank you,

and left me standing outside,

hands still full of love I didn’t know how to spend.

Later, I heard the laughter.

My name, my awkwardness,

the way I tried too hard, cared too loudly, loved too obviously.

They called it strange.

They called it unnatural.

But I was never cruel.

I was never false.

And if you’re like me,

if you love too visibly,

if you hand people pieces of your heart hoping they’ll understand,

please, listen.

You don’t need to trade your warmth for entry.

You don’t need to prove you’re worthy of care.

People will take what they don’t understand,

and they will call it too much.

Protect your warmth.

Guard it like a small fire cupped in your palms.

Let it burn for you first,

and for those who meet you gently.

The right ones won’t take it.

They’ll sit beside you, quietly,

and glow with you.

#Autism #ADHD #AutismAcceptance #adhdawareness #Neurodiversity #Masking #unmasking #MentalHealthAwareness #youareenough #pebbling

Lazy days make me feel both rested and unproductive. Some days, slowing down and having some quiet time to relax is peaceful and makes me feel like I’m exactly where I should be. Other times, rest feels…restless. My mind tells me I should be doing something productive instead of lying around doing nothing. It’s uncomfortable to be in that in-between zone of feeling both at the same time.

For me, it feels like this internal tug-of-war between my body telling me to slow down, while my brain is shouting for me to keep going. I feel such a strong sense of guilt on lazy days because I was taught by society that laziness equates to weakness. So, I’m always thinking that I’m less than or undeserving of rest. But I’ve learned that it’s essential for my mental health, and I’ve been trying to care and nurture that.

I’ve been trying to view lazy days as restorative ones. It’s not a waste of time or anything to be ashamed of. Since I’ve had such a hard time in the past struggling with these feelings, I’ve finally decided to try to see rest in a more positive light. I honestly don’t even like using the word “lazy” at all because of the correlation to weakness, and I think we should debunk this myth.

Honestly, rest is strength. I’m recognizing my limits instead of pushing myself day in and day out to do more just for the sake of societal expectations. I’ve been putting my best food forward and doing things at my own pace, and I’m learning to trust that’s enough. If I’m in desperate need of rest, I no long blame myself for slowing down.

“Rest isn’t a reward for doing enough. It’s a right — because you’re human.”-Unknown

#MentalHealth #ADHD #Neurodiversity

Self-Advocacy Isn’t Easy When You Have ADHD—Here’s How to Start 💪

Advocating for yourself can feel exhausting when your brain doesn’t always follow the rules. ADHD can make organizing your thoughts, remembering key points, or pushing back feel impossible—but standing up for yourself is one of the most powerful tools you have.

✨ Start Small
You don’t have to tackle everything at once. Pick one area—work, school, or relationships—where you need your voice heard, and focus there first.

📝 Write It Down
Your brain can get overwhelmed in the moment. Draft what you want to say beforehand. Bullet points help keep your key messages clear.

🤝 Use Your Support System
Friends, mentors, or ADHD communities can help you prepare, role-play conversations, or remind you of your rights and needs.

🌱 Build a Healthy Support System
Healthy support means people who:
• Listen without judgment
• Respect your decisions
• Offer guidance when asked
• Celebrate your progress

🚫 Unhealthy support often:
• Dismiss your experiences
• Pressure you to act against your needs
• Take control of your choices

⚠️ Be Aware of Misinformation
ADHD myths are everywhere—people may think you’re lazy or not trying hard enough. Learn the facts, rely on credible sources, and correct misinformation calmly.

💖 Practice Self-Compassion
You might stumble, forget, or get frustrated—and that’s okay. Every attempt is a step toward asserting your needs.

🌟 Leverage Your Strengths
Your creativity, curiosity, and ability to think outside the box are powerful advocacy tools. Highlight them when making your case.

Self-advocacy isn’t a single moment—it’s a practice. With time, preparation, accurate information, and a healthy support system, it becomes less scary and more empowering. You deserve to be heard, understood, and accommodated. 💛

It says ADHD on it’s because I put it in an article on Self advocacy but also be applied to any challenge or situation not just ADHD

#ADHD #ADHDInGirls #Neurodiversity #MentalHealth #Anxiety #Depression #AddictionRecovery