ADHD in girls

Silence has never been unfamiliar to me. I’ve always been someone who sits in quiet spaces with comfortability. Personally, I don’t like if there’s constant noise or distraction because it feels too overwhelming. So, silence is where I stay. It’s where I feel the most like myself.

Silence as comfort and early solitude

For the most part, I grew up alone. I’m an only child, so I learned early on to entertain myself—playing solo games, writing stories, reading fun mystery novels.

I remember going to the toy store with my mom and being brought little projects for me to do. I remember getting science kits, fun fill-out books like “about me” or Mad Libs, and board games like Operation that you could play alone.

Of course, there were moments I felt lonely. But I grew comfortable and used to being solo that it didn’t affect me the way it may have others.

I think it’s because I choose silence over noise because of my anxieties and fears. I noticed that I didn’t need constant background sound or distraction. It was easy to sit in silence in peace. I was okay with it.

To me, silence has always been my form of rest.

I just always craved time alone. Time to be by myself because I could just be freely authentic without any outside unwanted judgment. When I’m doing things that I genuinely love to do—my hobbies, my interests—I rarely ever feel alone.Silence, identity, and relationships

I’ve been fortunate enough to always have friends by my side. They became my social lifeline and a place of feeling acceptance. They saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself at the time.

I’ve always been hard on myself, so the fact that I actually had friends often boggled my mind.

I’ve always considered myself to be too quiet, too shy to make friends. But people naturally gravitated towards my quiet nature. They saw me as reliable, kind, and perhaps even fun.

I’m so grateful to have had a social life from an early age because that’s what made me feel less lonesome.

When silence becomes heavy

But sometimes, being alone in the silence too much creates an overwhelming discomfort.

My thoughts get so loud that emotions surface and my anxiety goes haywire. I’ll start overthinking everything in my life. I start doubting myself and shrink in the process.

That’s why I don’t need outside noise—I have enough of it going on in my mind.

Emotions rise when things get louder.

Lately, I’ve been feeling isolated. I haven’t really left my house much and I’ve been disassociating—being there but not fully being there.

Whenever I do leave my house, I feel so much anxiety that it’s nearly hard to breathe.

There have been moments where I’ve felt overwhelmed in ways I didn’t immediately understand until later—when everything quieted down and I was left sitting with it.

When I do go out, my emotions are high. If something or someone irritates me or triggers me in some way, my emotions come out all at once. I think it’s because I have so many buried feelings that they all come to a head at that point.

Internal processing and emotional buildup

I sit with things for a long time instead of expressing them. My thought process is quiet and internal.

I had a recent experience where I held things in too long that I couldn’t hold them in any longer. I made the decision to face the situation head on and be upfront and honest with my feelings. Needless to say, they were shut down.

This made my rejection sensitivity intensify to limits I had never reached before. I became angry, frustrated, and quite frankly hurt.

That’s why I feel more comfort in silence because I’ve learned vulnerability can often be detrimental.

But over time, I realized that I shouldn’t live my life in fear of opening up and that I should let things out before the tension builds.Reflection on silence

I’m starting to understand that silence hits differently for me. It holds comfort and clarity but can also hold heaviness and disconnection.

But if you were to ask me if I prefer silence or noise, I’m always going to choose silence.

I’m an introvert and I love to be alone. It’s my space for recharging my social battery, engaging in things I love, and sorting through my thoughts on my own time, no pressure.

And through the heaviness that comes along with it, I can manage it more easily when I’m in my own space quietly.

What does silence feel like for you—comfort, heaviness, or a mix of both?

“Silence is a source of great strength.”— Lao Tzu

#MentalHealth #Anxiety #ADHD #ADHDInGirls #Autism #AutismSpectrumDisorder #AutismSpectrum #Depression #Neurodiversity #MightyTogether

I’ve been wanting to create a space like this for a while now.

Somewhere that feels a little quieter… a little more honest. A place where you don’t have to show up perfectly.

So if you’re here, I’m really glad you found your way into this space.

I thought I’d start with something simple.

How has your week been—really?

Not just the surface-level answer, but how you’ve actually been feeling underneath it all.

You can share as much or as little as you want. Even just a word or two is enough.

And if you feel comfortable, you can introduce yourself too—but there’s no pressure at all.

I just wanted this to be a place where we can show up as we are.

— Nicole

#MentalHealth #Neurodiversity #ADHD #ADHDInGirls #Autism #AutismSpectrumDisorder #AutismSpectrum #Anxiety #GeneralizedAnxietyDisorder #Depression

Lately, I’ve been feeling very off. I know I’ve been talking about what it’s like to live on autopilot, but I really want to go a little deeper into what that actually looks like for me.

For me, it feels like being here, but not fully here. It’s like I’m living my life at a distance—going through the motions without really feeling connected to them. It’s subtle, which makes it harder to explain. Nothing is obviously wrong, but something feels off in a way I can’t quite name—like a quiet internal fog I can’t fully step out of. And for a long time, I didn’t understand what that feeling was—I just knew I wasn’t fully present in my own life.

I’ve felt that way for a long time—empty, absent, hollow. It’s a strange feeling because I’m such an emotional person. But when I’m in this daze, this heavy fog, I don’t feel very much of anything. Everything feels muted. Someone could be telling me something awful, something painful, and my mind just passes it by in an instant—like it never fully sticks. There’s no feeling, no weight, no reaction sitting in my body. It’s not done purposely. It’s just dissociation.

I used to think I was just flighty. Ditzy, maybe. Either way, I didn’t feel good about it. I didn’t like presenting myself to others when I wasn’t fully aware—fully present. It’s embarrassing to be in the middle of a conversation and completely forget what someone is saying as they’re saying it, like the words slip right through me. I’m just… lost.

I’ll sit down to do something simple, like read a book, and realize I’ve reread the same sentence multiple times without absorbing it—like my eyes are moving but nothing is registering. I’ll watch a movie or TV show and not be able to explain what it was about, like it never fully made it into me. And often, I’ll walk into a room and forget why I went there in the first place, standing there in this quiet mental blankness.

Emotionally, it feels like I’m muted. Not sad. Not happy either. Just… distant.

I remember one time a friend and I were chatting about an upcoming trip we had planned. She kept telling me the details—when we’d get into town, when we’d leave, small things like that. But I kept asking her over and over again without even realizing I had already asked. My brain couldn’t hold onto it. I was too far from the moment.

She jokingly called me out for it, but I could tell she was getting frustrated. And I just remember feeling embarrassed afterward—like a sinking feeling in my chest—like I couldn’t trust my own attention, or my own mind in that moment.

After conversations, I would replay everything in my head—not because something went wrong, but because I couldn’t trust what I experienced in the moment. I’d wonder if I seemed off, if I was engaging enough, if I missed something important without realizing it—like I was trying to reconstruct moments I didn’t fully hold onto.

And slowly, that started to shape how I saw myself in relationships. Like I wasn’t fully there for people the way I want to be. Like I was slightly out of sync with everyone else, even when I was trying my best to connect. That disconnect starts to feel like something other people might notice before I even say a word.

It also started to affect how I thought about myself more broadly.

It’s disorienting—feeling present in your life on the outside, but not fully connected to it on the inside. Like I’m doing all the “right” things, but not fully experiencing them the way I should—like life is happening slightly beside me instead of through me. And over time, it turns into this feeling of being behind in your own life.

Like everyone else is moving forward in ways I can’t quite access.

I think it happens when I’ve been overwhelmed for too long—when too much has been happening internally or externally, and something in me pulls back quickly, almost instinctively. And I don’t always notice it while it’s happening. I notice it after.

I still don’t have a perfect way of explaining it yet. But I’m learning not to be so hard on myself for it. It doesn’t mean I’m a bad person because I drift sometimes, and I’m learning to stop judging myself for it. For me, it’s about learning how to notice when I’m not fully there—and to try not to abandon myself in the process.

When do you first notice yourself feeling “not fully here”—and what do you usually do in those moments without even realizing it?

“Sometimes the hardest part is not knowing you’ve drifted until you’re already far from yourself.”— Unknown

#MentalHealth #Neurodiversity #ADHD #ADHDInGirls #AutismSpectrumDisorder #DistractMe

There have been so many circumstances in my life where I didn’t take action, but I wish I had. For me, I’ve been a pushover for most of my life. I let people take advantage of my kindness, my generosity, and my care. I don’t know what it is about me that made me this way, but it’s always affected me and my self-esteem

I’ve been the supportive one, the shoulder for people to cry on, and the one who offers good advice but never takes it myself. I’ve been there for others through thick and thin, regardless of whether or not I’ve been taken advantage of.

I remember one time when a friend of mine had me drive all over town to pick up some items. I initially didn’t feel like going and doing that, but I never want to let a friend down, so I did it. It turns out I ended up driving a very long distance just to satisfy his needs.

When we got to one destination, we were there for hours. I was led to believe it would only take a few minutes. So there I was, stuck. I couldn’t just leave him.

And the thing that shocked me was that I didn’t get one thank you for it.

In that moment, I wish that I would’ve stuck up for myself. I wish I would’ve expressed my feelings of being used for their own gain. But no, I stayed quiet, sucked it up, and never said a word about it.

Today, I wouldn’t let that fly. After so many years of playing second fiddle to everything, I now stand my ground and use my voice. I’m no longer fearful of doing that. It’s a change within myself that I never thought would come to fruition. I think I finally reached a breaking point and just refused to be stepped all over. It’s not who I am anymore, and I’m proud of that.

So, I would’ve handled that situation differently. I would’ve told my friend that I didn’t appreciate being misled on that little venture. What I thought was going to be quick ended up taking forever—the whole day, in fact. I would’ve told him that I wanted to leave the moment I found out it would take longer, because I sat there miserably, just waiting and waiting.

And most of all, I would’ve demanded a thank you. A thank you for driving all over town, for waiting for him to finish whatever errand he had me on, and for being used because I was the only one at the time with a car.

I’ve learned so much about myself recently, and I’ve noticed how much bolder I am. How much stronger I am than I ever thought possible. I couldn’t be prouder of myself for using my voice when I feel taken advantage of.

Sure, I’ve lost friendships in the process of standing up for myself, but I’ve realized it’s okay to let those friendships go because they never cared about me to begin with.

I used to care deeply about losing any of my friends. But a recent experience opened my eyes and made me see, perhaps for the first time, what a real friendship actually is. It’s a two-way street, and I grew tired of one-sided relationships. I’m done.

My healing journey has led me down a path of self-acceptance and a newfound confidence. I’m forever grateful that I no longer fear confrontation. I tell someone how I feel, and if they don’t accept it… goodbye.

Sometimes the hardest part isn’t what happened—it’s what we didn’t say. But growth is realizing we don’t have to stay that version of ourselves.

Where in your life are you ready to take action instead of staying silent?

“Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.” — Brené Brown

#MentalHealth #Neurodiversity #ADHD #ADHDInGirls #Autism #Autism #Anxiety #MightyTogether

A quiet reflection on what it feels like to be physically present, but mentally somewhere else—and the slow process of finding your way back.

There I am, sitting in a meeting, trying to pay close attention to what is being said—but my mind slowly drifts. It happens so automatically that I barely notice it at first. Like I’ve slipped into autopilot without realizing it.

Thoughts start to take over. Completely off topic. I think about what I want for dinner. How I want to spend my weekend. Uninvited memories that slip into every corner of my mind.

And in that moment—along with many others, if I’m being honest—I realize I’m there in the room, but my brain is elsewhere.

This happens quite frequently. No matter how hard I try to stay in the present, my mind decides it’s bored and would rather move on to something more stimulating. It usually ends up being a daydream of sorts, where I imagine my life as something different than what it is.

I’ve noticed just how difficult it can be to stay in the moment. To listen and respond without losing my train of thought. My mind can’t help but meander to places that feel scattered and in-between. Sometimes I reflect on happy moments, and other times I drift into places that feel heavier—emotional, sensitive, and hard to sit with. I try to avoid going there, but I never really know where my mind is going to take me.

Just the other day, I was in the middle of a conversation that was light-hearted and intriguing, but still, my mind wouldn’t stay with it. I was trying so intently to listen to every word and fully absorb it, but the moment I went in for my response, it fell apart the second it left my tongue.

I’d completely lost my train of thought.

I had to stop, apologize, and admit that I didn’t know where I was going with it.

In moments like that, it feels like I’ve stepped out of the conversation without meaning to—like I’ve left the room while my body stayed behind.

I’ve spent a lot of time wondering why this happens. Why it’s so hard for me to stay present. Why my mind always drifts somewhere else, even when I want to be fully there.

I want people to understand that there are moments where I am fully involved—listening, present, able to respond. But a lot of the time, I’m off in my own world.

Living on autopilot has made me realize that even though I’m physically there, mentally I’m not as involved as I’d like to be. Sometimes I can barely feel my body being present either. It’s like I’m sitting in the room, but I’m not fully inside myself.

There’s a kind of haziness to it. A feeling that’s hard to describe—like a rush of overwhelm mixed with anxiety. My heart starts pounding, my mind goes foggy, and everything feels uncertain. It’s like I’ve been stunned for a moment, trying to stay clear-headed while everything inside me feels scattered.

I think part of it comes from how anxious I can be. When I feel put on the spot or expected to stay fully focused, something in me starts to shut down instead. I falter. I drift.

It becomes this cycle of trying to stay present and then slipping out of the moment anyway.

I don’t think I chose this on purpose. I think at some point, it just became easier to drift than to fully feel everything. I’ve always had a hard time sitting with certain thoughts or emotions, especially the ones that feel overwhelming. So instead, my mind moves away from them.

And over time, that drifting just became automatic.

Instead of trying to solve it, I’m learning to notice it.

To catch the moment before I disappear too far into my own head. Not to judge myself for it or force myself to stay, but just to recognize it for what it is.

I’m not always able to pull myself back right away. Sometimes I still feel distant, still half-present. But even noticing it feels like something.

Even though I’ve struggled with this for most of my life, I’m starting to realize that awareness might be where it begins.

I may still have the brain fog, the scattered thoughts, the moments where I lose track—but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable. People still show up for me, and I show up for them.

So I have to believe I’m doing something right. I’m trying not to be ashamed of it anymore. Not to judge myself every time I drift.

I just remind myself—I might have left for a minute, but I can come back.

And that’s enough right now.

When do you notice yourself slipping into autopilot the most—and what does it feel like in your body when you do?

“Wherever you are, be there totally.” — Eckhart Tolle

#MentalHealth #ADHD #ADHDInGirls #Neurodiversity #MightyTogether #AutismSpectrum #Anxiety

It's that time of the week again, Mighties!
Thankful Thursday is here 😃
Tell us 3 things in the comments below that you're thankful for. 👇
#Addiction #AnorexiaNervosa #Agoraphobia #Anxiety #AutismSpectrumDisorder #ADHDInGirls #ADHD #Anxiety #BipolarDisorder #CeliacDisease #ChronicFatigueSyndrome #Cancers #Depression #Epilepsy #Dysautonomia #KidneyDisease #ObsessiveCompulsiveDisorder #Lupus #FamilialHemiplegicMigraine #POTS #PTSD #Hemophilia #SjogrensSyndrome #Endometriosis #InterstitialCystitis #EatingDisorder #HearingLoss #Deafness #Selfcare #SuicidalThoughts #IrritableBowelSyndromeIBS #jointhypermobility

What’s a secret skill or ability you have or wish you had?

There’s a part of me that most people don’t see right away. It’s quiet, observant, and always noticing what’s happening around me. If I had to name a secret skill I have, it would probably be reading people really well.

I’ve always been super observant. I notice body language, facial expressions, glances, behaviors—all of it. Most of the time, I can tell how someone is feeling just by looking at them. I pick up on things easily. For example, I can tell when a friend is forcing a smile, even if they say they’re fine. I can sense tension in a room before anyone speaks, or know when someone is holding back something they really want to say. Honestly, I think that’s a gift.

It helps me see people for who they really are. I’m usually able to tell when someone is genuine and when they’re not. In a lot of ways, that ability has always protected me. It’s helped me keep my distance when I need to and guard my heart. But it’s also made me really sensitive to other people.

I can usually tell when someone is upset, overwhelmed, or hurting, even if they’re trying hard not to show it. Maybe that’s because I know what it feels like to hide what’s going on inside. So, when I notice that in someone else, I want to comfort them and make them feel seen. Sometimes it’s as small as listening quietly while they talk, or noticing when someone needs space before they ask for it.

If there’s one skill I wish I had, though, it would be better communication.

For someone who notices so much, I’m terrible at getting my own thoughts out. I stumble over my words constantly. Sometimes I have something I want to say, and it just disappears before I can get it out. Other times, I mutter a response no one can hear because I’m too afraid to say it aloud or worry it’ll be judged. Most of the time, I have an important point I want to make in a group conversation, but by the time I try to speak, the moment has passed. As a result, there are countless opportunities I miss to share my voice at all.

I’m a nervous person, and meeting new people has always been hard for me. I can do small talk, even though I hate it, but after that, I never know what to say. My mind just goes blank. I overthink everything. Even when I do have something thoughtful to say, I usually keep it to myself because I’m scared it’ll come out wrong or sound stupid. So, I stay quiet.

My ability to read people and my struggles with communication have shaped my relationships. I’ve been able to support friends when they needed it most, but I’ve also missed chances to speak up for myself. It’s a constant balancing act, learning to notice and understand others while also finding my own voice.

There’s so much in my head—so many thoughts and feelings—but I don’t always know how to let them out. I may not be the most talkative person in the room, but I notice everything. I feel everything. And maybe that says more about me than words ever could

Even if I don’t always say the right thing, I hope my presence, my attention, and my care can speak for me.

What’s a strength you have that people may not always notice right away—and what’s one skill you wish came more naturally to you?

“I may be quiet, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing there. Sometimes the deepest people are the ones still searching for the words.”

#MentalHealth #Neurodiversity #ADHD #ADHDInGirls #Autism #AutismSpectrumDisorder #Anxiety #Loneliness

From personal experience, I know that hope isn’t always easy to hold onto—especially during seasons when life feels heavy, uncertain, or overwhelming. We often pressure ourselves to “stay positive,” but real hope isn’t about pretending everything is okay. It’s about grounding yourself, finding direction, and taking gentle, meaningful steps forward even when the path ahead feels blurry.

That’s why I created this worksheet: to offer a compassionate way to check in with yourself. It’s meant to help you reconnect with hope in a way that feels realistic rather than forced. You can use it whenever you need to catch your breath, reset, or simply remind yourself that progress—even slow, quiet progress—is still progress.

Why This Matters
Fostering hope doesn’t mean ignoring your challenges. It means creating space for possibility. It means staying connected to what’s real while also allowing yourself to imagine something better. When you approach hope with compassion instead of pressure, you build a healthier, more sustainable mindset for the long term.
If you’re needing a moment of grounding today, I hope this resource supports you.

#ADHD #ADHDInGirls #Neurodiversity #Anxiety #Depression #Addiction #SubstanceRelatedDisorders #MentalHealth