Relationships

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