neurodiversity

What comforts you most?

#MentalHealth #Neurodiversity #ADHD #Autism #Anxiety #selfcare #MightyPoets #MightyTogether

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how much time I spend living in my head. And it got me questioning: how many lives do we really live?

There is the life where we run on routine, structure, and discipline—the ordinary moments that make up our days.

But then there are the other lives.

The ones we quietly carry inside our minds.

The life where we made a different choice. The one where we moved to a different city, said yes instead of no, took the chance, stayed longer, left sooner, or pursued a different dream.

We all have these invisible lives.

The versions of ourselves that exist only in our imagination.

They often appear in daydreams, moments of nostalgia, or late at night when everything is quiet and our minds begin wandering through all of the “what ifs.”

I always find myself envisioning another life.

One where things are simpler, more carefree, and above all, quiet. Quiet because my mind would finally be at peace with itself. A version of me that is confident, productive, and outgoing. Someone more easily accepted by society. Someone who doesn’t have to constantly wonder if she is too much or not enough.

I remember road trips when I was younger. I often went to Las Vegas with my parents, so there were long stretches of open desert perfect for daydreaming.

I’d stare out the window, listen to Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill on my portable CD player, and just dream of another life.

The one where I felt accepted without trying so hard to fit in.

Even then, at a young age, I knew deep down I had emotions far bigger than I understood at the time. I would constantly go back and forth between living my ideal life in my head and being reminded of the one I already lived.

It’s odd because even in my daydreams, I still couldn’t fully achieve the happiness I was searching for because I always brought myself along.

The girl who was sensitive.

The girl who was quiet.

The girl who sometimes felt like she didn’t quite fit.

I think about the roads not taken and the people I might have become.

The version of me that may have moved away.

The version that traveled more.

The version that made different choices.

The version that followed a completely different path.

Would I be different if certain things had happened?

Would I be happier?

More confident?

More at peace?

Would I even recognize that version of myself?

When I was younger, I wanted to live in New York and work at a major magazine. I’d always dreamed of working in entertainment, particularly film.

At one point, I wanted to be a film critic, but eventually I decided that working in my own office in a high-rise building, writing about pop culture, was more suited to me.

Film, music, TV, and books—I was obsessed.

I would pick up the latest copy of J-14 magazine to read the latest gossip on boybands and female solo artists, seeing who was dating who.

I loved Rolling Stone, Cosmopolitan, and Entertainment Weekly, to name a few more.

I wanted to know the latest trends, newest musicians, and upcoming movies.

I wanted a life immersed in that culture.

It’s strange to realize that there are entire versions of our lives that exist nowhere except within us.

Lives that feel real, even though they never happened.

And yet, I don’t think imagining these lives is always a bad thing.

Sometimes these inner worlds reveal something important.

They show us what we long for.

What we miss.

What still matters to us.

They remind us of dreams we may have forgotten or desires we quietly tucked away because life became busy, difficult, or simply different than we expected.

There have been moments where I realized that I still wanted things I thought I had let go of.

I thought I had let go of my passion for moving to New York.

Starting a new life.

Making new friends.

Finding love.

When I went to New York for the first time when I was nineteen, I was stunned by how much hustle and bustle there truly was.

I felt panic walking through the crowded streets of Manhattan. Too many people brushing alongside you and even pushing you out of the way.

I felt overwhelmed.

That made me realize that perhaps my dream of living there wasn’t the right fit for who I am at my core.

Don’t get me wrong, New York is incredibly magical, but it’s just too fast-paced for what I’m used to.

But even after deciding not to pursue New York, I still found myself missing the idea of it.

The life I could’ve had.

The one I always envisioned for myself.

Sometimes I wonder if what I miss isn’t New York itself, but the version of me I thought I would become there.

Would I have been living the dream?

I’ll never know.

But our minds are remarkable in the way they create places where possibilities continue to exist.

A space where we can still wander.

Still hope.

Still imagine.

At the same time, living too much in these imagined lives can become its own kind of sadness.

We can become so focused on the life we could have had that we stop noticing the life we do have.

The small moments.

The ordinary joys.

The beauty that exists right in front of us.

A simple Sunday spent at the beach with friends.

Sitting outside a small café reading a book with a cappuccino in hand.

Having a deep conversation with someone you love.

Sitting beneath a shaded tree and taking in a deep breath of fresh air.

These are the moments I’ve learned to hold onto.

Because maybe these ordinary moments are what those imagined lives were searching for all along.

Honestly, I think there’s a delicate balance.

It’s okay to visit these other lives from time to time.

To wonder.

To reflect.

To imagine.

But we cannot live there forever.

Because while those imagined lives may be beautiful, this life deserves our attention too.

This imperfect, ordinary, complicated life.

The one that exists right now.

The truth is, none of us will ever know who we might have become had things turned out differently.

But perhaps that isn’t the point.

Perhaps the point is simply recognizing that within each of us exists an entire universe of possibilities.

A collection of dreams, alternate paths, and unlived stories that helped shape who we are, even if they never came to be.

And maybe there is something comforting in that.

To know that we are made not only of our memories and experiences, but also of our hopes, our imaginings, and the quiet lives we carry within us.

Because in some small way, those lives are part of us too.

Maybe we don’t live just one life.

Maybe we live many.

Some in reality.

Some in our imagination.

And all of them, in one way or another, help tell the story of who we are.

What is one life you’ve imagined living, and what does it reveal about what you truly value?

“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.”— Eleanor Roosevelt

#MentalHealth #Neurodiversity #Anxiety #MightyTogether #ADHD

Still learning. Still growing. Still trying. 🤍🦋

#MentalHealth #Neurodiversity #Depression #selfcare #Selflove #MightyTogether

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to embrace a slower lifestyle.

I used to get overwhelmed by all of the things that I thought I needed to do in order to live a successful life. I thought that I had to have it all figured out—career, relationships, financial stability.

But the truth is, I don’t.

And I’m learning that’s okay.

I don’t want to be so hard on myself anymore for not being where I thought I’d be in life. It’s too draining emotionally and mentally to always be doubting yourself and your abilities.

Instead of letting my mind control me, I want to start letting more positive energy flow through me.

This season of life is offering me an opportunity to see the beauty in the ordinary. An opportunity to live life at my own pace.

And deep down, that’s what I think I’ve always wanted all along.

Here are some of the things I want more of.

More Slow Mornings

I want mornings where I don’t wake up and feel like the day is already ruined.

More often than not, I’ll wake up and one small thing will spark some sort of emotion out of me. Usually, it’s irritation or frustration about something.

I want to change the attitude of my mornings.

Start slowly.

No immediate scrolling on my phone.

Enjoying my cup of coffee on the patio.

Getting some sunshine before it gets too hot.

Jokingly, I hear sunshine is supposed to give you energy.

I just want more time to wake up gently instead of immediately feeling behind.

More Little Joys

Picking up fresh flowers at the grocery store to liven up my living space.

Reading all of the books that I haven’t touched and finding new ones to escape into.

Summer sunsets.

My favorite meal after a long day.

Songs that instantly feel like comfort.

I’ve learned that happiness is truly hidden in the ordinary things, and I want to notice those moments more often.

More Meaningful Connections

I want more conversations that go beyond small talk.

I want more people I can fully be myself around.

More moments of feeling understood.

I think all of us have ups and downs in friendships and relationships.

But for me, I learned the hard way who is and who isn’t a stronghold in my life.

I’ve lost friends and partners whom I’ll most likely never speak to again.

And the strange part of it all is that I lost these friendships and relationships because I was just being myself.

With that comes a lot of heartache, grief, and feelings that you’re the problem.

And those feelings don’t just disappear no matter how much time has passed.

Those moments of losing people made me feel like everything I thought about myself was true.

I’m not smart.

I’m not likable.

I’m boring.

The list goes on.

When someone you cared for and adored tells you those things about yourself that you already secretly fear, it does damage.

So, I want to embrace the people in my life who chose to stick around and let me be myself free of judgment.

Friendships and relationships are very important to me, and I don’t want to waste my time on people who don’t see me and accept me for who I am.

More Creating Memories With the People I Love

I have a tight-knit friend circle.

I actually met most of them in middle school, and we’ve maintained close relationships to this day.

I’m so lucky and forever grateful to have friends in my life who love and support me.

All of us are actually going to Romania for our friend’s wedding.

This will be our first time out of the country together, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to make new memories that I just know will last a lifetime.

Whenever I’m with them, I’m happy just being in their presence.

Sure, my mind wanders, and I can get into an overthinking funk, but they truly see me and appreciate me for who I am.

And that means more than they probably realize.

More Comfort in Being Exactly Who I Am

For most of my life, I’ve never really felt comfortable in my own skin.

I always had low self-esteem and a lack of confidence.

I was really hard on myself because I couldn’t do things as easily as others could. And that struggle made me feel weak.

The truth is, I spent my whole life confused about who I really am.

But once I was diagnosed, things started to make sense and fall into place for me.

I gained a new perspective and a new understanding of myself.

It gave me hope, purpose, and answers.

I don’t want to constantly judge myself like I used to.

I don’t want to feel disconnected from myself or appease others by becoming someone different.

I just want to be comfortable with who I am.

And I’m slowly getting there.

My confidence has grown.

My self-esteem is getting higher.

I’m getting there, little by little.

More Celebrating How Far I’ve Come

I think it’s easy to focus on how far we still have to go.

The goals we haven’t reached yet.

The things we still want to change.

But lately, I’ve been trying to remind myself to look back, too.

I’ve survived things I once thought would break me.

I’ve learned so much about myself.

And I’ve grown in ways that I never, ever expected.

There are versions of me from years ago who would be very proud of the person I am today.

And I want to celebrate that more often.

More Gentleness With Myself

Perhaps more than anything, I want to be kinder to myself.

I want to stop expecting myself to function like everyone else.

I want to stop measuring my worth by productivity.

I want to stop feeling like I’m somehow behind.

I want to give myself the same understanding and compassion that I so easily offer other people.

I think this season of life is more about returning to myself and making room for the things that matter.

About creating a life that feels softer, slower, and more aligned with who I truly am.

What is one thing you want more of in this season of your life?

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”— Often attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson

#MentalHealth #Neurodiversity #ADHD #Autism #AutismSpectrum #selfcare #MightyTogether

Lately, I’ve been getting outside more.

Which sounds simple, but for me, it hasn’t always been that easy.

More often than not, there is something within me that sees even simple things as a hassle. If I go outside, that means I have to stop whatever it is that I’m doing and make time for it. And when I’m hyperfocused on work, writing, or a project, I rarely want to do that.

It’s strange how I tend to neglect the things that would probably help me the most. I’ve never really understood why I do that, especially when I know that once I actually get outside, I’m happy.

I feel lighter, more focused, and more motivated.

The problem is always getting there.

I’ve always been someone who loves being comfy at home. I don’t really like to go out if I don’t have to. I like being in my own space.

And my safe space just so happens to be my room.

I’ve usually got my fan going because I overheat easily, my TV on in the background, and my computer right in front of me.

What can I say? It’s my little bubble of happiness.

But I’ve also realized that when I stay in that comfort zone for too long, my energy drops, my motivation disappears, and my world starts to feel a little smaller.

The other day, I decided to take advantage of my townhouse’s pool.

I love swimming. It’s always been my favorite form of exercise. But somehow, being comfortable inside often keeps me from it.

As a caregiver, my mom wanted to get some movement and therapy in by doing a little swimming. And honestly, doing that requires a lot of energy from both of us.

This was our first attempt at getting her into the pool, and long story short, it was exhausting—mentally and physically.

But once things settled and I got her back inside, I decided to stay by the pool for a little while.

I brought my portable speaker, some ice water, and a hat because my face burns ridiculously easily.

And honestly?

Just lying there on the chaise lounge, listening to my music and feeling the warmth of the sun against my skin helped re-center me.

It was peaceful.

There were no racing thoughts. No anxiety. No pressure to be productive.

I was simply there.

And it made me realize that I want—and deserve—more moments like that.

Moments that make me feel alive.

I think we sometimes put too much pressure on self-care.

We think going outside means we need to go on a long walk, hike a trail, or do some intense workout.

I used to think that way.

But going outside can look like different things:

Drinking your coffee on the patio.

Sitting in the sunshine for ten minutes.

Reading a book outside.

Gardening.

Taking a slow walk.

Eating a meal outdoors.

Sitting by the pool and doing absolutely nothing.

Those moments count.

I think that for many neurodivergent people, life can feel like a constant stream of stimulation.

We’re dealing with noises, screens, responsibilities, and thoughts that never seem to slow down.

Creating moments of quiet and connection can really help us reset.

For me, I’ve learned that sunshine, fresh air, and slowing down help me feel more grounded. They help me reconnect with myself.

You don’t have to spend hours outside every day, either.

Sometimes five or ten minutes is enough.

Enough to step away from everything for a little while.

I’m learning that some of the most meaningful things are often the simplest.

Sometimes self-care is stepping outside.

Feeling the sun on your skin.

Taking a few deep breaths.

Doing absolutely nothing.

Just being there.

And honestly?

I think I need more of that.

What is one simple habit that helps you feel more like yourself?

#MentalHealth #selfcare #Neurodiversity #Anxiety #ADHD #Autism #Mindfulness #MightyTogether

“In the middle of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer.”

— Albert Camus

If I had to give one chapter of my life a title, I think I would simply call it The Lost Years.

The reason I would call them that is because it was a time filled with doubt, struggles, and uncertainty. Not because those years didn’t matter, but because I felt lost within them. I didn’t really know who I was, where I was going, or how to find my way back to myself.

In my mid to late twenties, I went through a really difficult period in my life—socially, physically, mentally, and internally. I felt like I had no sense of direction. Which path do I choose? That question was constantly on my mind.

But it wasn’t just the big life decisions. It was all the little things that added up each day.

I was in a deep state of depression. I barely left my bed. Tears seemed endless. My mind replayed everything that had ever gone wrong in my life and convinced me that things would never change. That I would never find stability, happiness, or a sense of safety.

There was one major event during that time that changed me in ways I never expected. I don’t really want to get into the details, but it left a lasting impact on me.

For a long time, I felt worthless. Like I was an afterthought. Like everyone else was moving forward while I remained stuck.

I had one friend during that time who helped pull me out of my funk every once in a while. He had the kind of personality that could always make me laugh and smile. We were practically inseparable for years.

Looking back now, I realize I spent much of my twenties helping him pursue his goals, dreams, and plans for the future. Mine, however, quietly took a back seat.

I’m not blaming him for that. If anything, it made me realize how much of a people-pleaser I was. At the time, I didn’t see it that way. I thought I was just being supportive and being there for someone I cared about. It wasn’t until later that I realized I had become so focused on helping someone else build their life that I stopped asking myself what I wanted for my own.

I didn’t socialize much outside of him and his partner. I had never been in a relationship, which made me feel behind in life. I felt like everyone else was moving forward while I was somehow stuck in the same place.

And because my depression had convinced me that I was somehow unworthy, I never really focused on building a life for myself.

So instead, I lived vicariously through him.

When I look back now, I think, it is what it is.

I can’t go back and change it.

I can only learn from it.

The reason I call them “The Lost Years” is because I only knew how to be there for other people. I didn’t know how to be there for myself.

I didn’t know who I was outside of helping others. I didn’t know what I wanted, where I was going, or what kind of life I wanted to build.

I think we all have a chapter like that. A season marked by grief, uncertainty, burnout, disappointment, anxiety, and simply trying to keep our heads above water.

I remember isolating myself from the outside world. I’d spend day in and day out locked away in my room, trying desperately to quiet the negative, nagging thoughts about how much of my life I had wasted.

I kept thinking, my life could have been what I always envisioned if I had only tried to make it a reality.

But no.

I was stuck.

Stuck in a never-ending cycle of past decisions, past experiences, and things that changed the trajectory of my life.

I kept myself “entertained” by watching comfort shows and movies. I couldn’t read because it was too hard to focus on anything other than my misery.

I ate comfort foods: cheese quesadillas, grilled cheese sandwiches, beef taquitos—anything familiar and safe.

Exercise was out of the question because I could hardly move beyond my comfort zone.

It’s funny how the place that brings you the most comfort can also become the place where you hide from your life.

I felt so disconnected and dissociated that I couldn’t even imagine who the real person was beneath all of the weight I was carrying.

Essentially, I had zero clue who I truly was.

Mind you, I was undiagnosed at the time and didn’t understand my feelings and emotions as well as I do now.

For years, I carried all of this without understanding why I felt the way I did. I thought I was lazy. I thought I was too sensitive. I thought I was too emotional. I thought everyone else had somehow figured out life while I was still trying to understand myself.

Then, a few years ago, I attended an ADHD conference.

Something there struck me to my core.

For the first time in my life, I felt seen.

I remember listening to people describe experiences that I had spent years thinking were just personal flaws or things that made me different. Suddenly, I had words to explain things I had struggled with for years.

It was a true “aha” moment.

That conference changed me.

Not because everything suddenly became better.

It didn’t.

I still had struggles. I still had difficult days.

But something shifted.

A massive weight lifted from my shoulders because I finally had a better understanding of myself.

It gave me hope.

It gave me a reason to start again.

I felt a little more comfortable in my own skin.

So, I started writing. A lot.

Eventually, I created this blog to share my story in hopes that others might resonate with it.

Writing became a way for me to process my experiences. It became a way to connect with others. It became a reminder that the things I thought made me feel alone were actually things many other people quietly experienced too.

It gave me passion. It gave me a desire to make improvements and small changes.

I no longer wanted to sit back and watch life happen.

I wanted to be a part of it.

That’s why the quote above resonates with me so much.

Even in the midst of winter, there was still an invincible summer within me.

I just couldn’t see it yet.

Looking back now, I realize I spent so much of my life trying to become who I thought I should be that I never stopped to ask myself who I actually was.

I was constantly comparing myself to other people. I was measuring my life against timelines that didn’t belong to me. I thought I was behind.

But I think that’s the thing about difficult seasons.

You don’t always recognize how hard they were until you’re on the other side of them.

At the time, I thought I was wasting years of my life.

I thought I had fallen too far behind.

Now, I have a little more compassion for that version of myself.

She was depressed. She was overwhelmed. She was carrying more than she realized. She was trying to survive without understanding why everything felt so difficult.

And maybe that’s why I don’t look at those years quite the same way anymore.

Were they hard? Absolutely.

Were they years I wish had looked different? Yes.

But they also shaped me.

They helped me understand myself.

They led me toward writing.

They led me toward building something meaningful.

They led me toward finally asking myself what kind of life I wanted.

Maybe they were lost years.

But maybe they were also the years that slowly brought me back to myself.

Have you ever had a season of life where you felt lost? What helped you find your way back?

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

While the world isn't always kind or accommodating to those of us with neurodivergent minds and bodies, that doesn't mean there aren't wonderful and beautiful qualities that make us who we are.

A few days ago, I was scrolling online and came across the idea of "embracing your whimsical side," and I thought it was such a fun perspective! It's inspired me to appreciate my own whimsical side—to be unapologetically myself, embrace my depth, honor my high sensitivity, celebrate my creative mind, and cherish all the things that make me different.

What about you? What's something you appreciate—or are learning to appreciate—about your neurodivergent self? ☺️

#Neurodiversity #ADHD #Autism #SensoryProcessingDisorder #Dyslexia #Dyscalculia #MentalHealth #Anxiety #Depression #PTSD

This question really got me thinking.

For the longest time, I thought all chaos was bad.

Now I realize there are different kinds.

There's the kind that overwhelms me...and there's the kind that turns into a memory I wouldn't trade for anything.

What kind of chaos feels good in your life—and what kind doesn’t?

I'd love to hear your thoughts!

#Thoughts #Neurodiversity #ADHD #ADHDInGirls #Anxiety #chaos #quote #MentalHealth