neurodiversity

What’s one thing you can do for self-care in tough moments that’s within your own sphere of control? For me, it’s using my Clarity app and reminding myself that other people’s beliefs, actions, and attitudes belong to them—not me. If they can’t see my effort, that’s on them, not on me.

And it’s not about pretending frustration doesn’t exist or acting like challenges don’t get to me. It’s about acknowledging those moments, seeing them for what they are, and accepting them as part of being human. Once I do that, I can choose how to respond instead of letting the moment control me. #ADHD #MentalHealth #ADHDInGirls #BipolarDepression #Depression #Addiction #Anxiety #GeneralizedAnxietyDisorder #Neurodiversity

Lately, I’ve been feeling really alone. And it’s not just the kind of loneliness that comes from being by yourself—it’s the kind that happens inside my own head. I’ve been disconnected from the people I love, second-guessing every conversation, and replaying interactions on repeat. When this happens, and my thoughts get stuck, they start spiraling fast.

A short text from a friend all of a sudden becomes proof that something is wrong. A missed call feels like a sign that I’m unwanted. Silence expands into rejection. My brain takes a tiny seed of doubt and grows into a whole forest of “what ifs” and “they must not like me.” And once that story gets loud enough in my mind, it doesn’t matter how unrealistic it sounds—I believe it.

This happened recently with a close friend who lives out of state. We don’t talk as often anymore, except when one of us is back in town. I reached out the other day, and replies seemed short—just a “yeah” or “ok” here and there—though text can always be rather tricky to read. Still, I convinced myself it meant we were drifting apart. I created an entire story in my head: she was upset with me, she didn’t care about me anymore, maybe she didn’t even like me at all. I started going through the past, picking apart every little detail to find proof that she didn’t. And then, on top of all that, I felt ashamed for even thinking that way.

Other times, it’s little things—like sending a photo or a funny meme and getting no response for hours, if at all. My mind immediately jumps to worst-case-scenarios: Did I say something wrong? “Maybe they’re annoyed with me?” “Maybe they don’t like as much anymore.” Even when I know that’s highly unlikely, the feeling is so real it’s incredibly difficult to shake.

It’s this cycle that I get caught in: overthinking → self-doubt → shame → isolation. And it’s exhausting.

Sometimes it feels like my brain is working against me. I know logically that a short reply or a missed call doesn’t mean the end of a friendship. I know that people get busy, distracted, or tired. But knowing it doesn’t always make the feeling go away.

I’ve realized that this spiral ties into FOMO and RSD. Every pause in communication can feel like proof that I don’t belong, that people are moving on without me, or that I’ve done something wrong. Even when I know deep down it’s not true, my mind always convinces me otherwise.

Some days, it feels like I’m trapped inside my own thoughts, but then I remember that even if my mind is convincing, it’s still just my mind. Nothing harmful has actually been done. It’s rather preposterous to take an idea and run with it, but it’s just a part of who I am, and I’m learning to navigate it as best I can. And somewhere in the mess of overthinking, shame, and doubt, I’m still me. The me who laughs at silly memes, who texts friends even when it feels scary, who keeps trying even when the spiral wins.

“Overthinking leads to paralysis. Over-feeling leads to isolation. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is simply let things be.”-Unknown

#MentalHealth #Neurodiversity #SelfDoubt #emotional #ADHD #RSD #AutismSpectrum

For as long as I can remember, I’ve found comfort in repetition. It’s one of those things that feels deeply embedded into who I am. For me, it isn’t just habitual, it’s instinctive. It’s a way for me to soothe myself when I feel disconnected, overwhelmed or unsettled. For many neurodivergent people, repetition is a coping mechanism that helps with self-regulation.

For me, it shows up in a variety of different ways, like listening to the same music over and over again. I just love knowing the lyrics to a song and being able to sing along without thinking about it. What I like to refer to as “my music,” never gets old to me. These songs remind me of long drives through the desert, social gatherings, or just nights spent at home trying to ease my mind. Repetition makes me feel comforted, and when I need to feel a little extra cared for, I turn to “my music,” to help me get through whatever it may be that I’m going through.

The same goes for movies and TV shows. I’ll rewatch old favorites over and over because I know exactly what to expect. There are no surprises, no sudden twists or turns, and it’s perfect for background noise when I’m preoccupied doing something else at home. Sure, it’s predictable, but for me, I find a great deal of relief in that.

Repetition also shows up in how I communicate. When I’m feel anxious or stressed, I repeat words. Sometimes I’ll say them out loud or quietly mumble words under my breath. Either way, it helps me cope. It’s how I deal with uncomfortable situations. Sometimes, I’ll even echo someone’s words. It’s like a delay, a time to process what’s being said and how I should respond.

During times where I’m experiencing a meltdown or a tantrum, I’ll repeat comforting words like, “I’m okay,” constantly until I feel the ache start to soothe. There’s this insurmountable pressure I feel throughout my body during these times. It’s like a heaviness that comes over me inside and out, and there’s little room for release. But repetition of words has become a very effective way for me to settle my nerves.

Lately, I’ve tried to look at repetition in a more positive light. I used to think that something was wrong with me for having to step aside and repeat things to myself in order to calm myself. I truly thought it was an oddity that no one else did. But what I’ve recognized is that it’s a unique part of me. It’s how I function in the world and find my inner peace, and that’s not something to be ashamed of. It keeps my mind steady when things feel out of hand.

I often wish I would venture into new experiences more often, but for now I’ll stick with my routine. Repetition gives me stability, ease, and comfort. It might sound dull and ordinary to some, but for me, it’s healing.

“Repetition is not monotony; it’s the rhythm of comfort.-Unknown

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#ASD #ADHD #MentalHealth #Neurodiversity #Autism #AutismSpectrumDisorder