Hi! Iām a neurodivergent adult! And I wrote this while having a burnout induced breakdown! Itās about growing up, and I hope it reaches someone who needs it. Youāre not alone.
I can still remember every time they said it.
āYou just have to work harder than others.ā
Things never came naturally to me like they did for other kids it seemed.
I had friends. But I always felt like a clown or a jester. Only there for entertainment and advice.
Communicating was always hard for me. There was always just too many things that always went unsaid. Things I could never pick up on. Things that just didnāt make sense to me.
I had to work for and learn things that seemingly came natural to everybody else.
I donāt mean things like art, or piano, or sports. No, I mean things like socializing, connecting, and understanding.
Human beings are social, pack-like creatures.
Humans need one another, because when youāre alone, you die. Itās as simple as that.
But when youāre growing up thereās no manual for āmaking real friendsā.
When you start growing tits they give you books about that. But no where in them do they say āhow to not sound sarcastic when youāre being genuineā, or āhow to not overanalyze patterns that you just so happen to notice until you convince yourself that everybody in the room hates youā, and they especially donāt tell you āhow to deal with the feeling that youāre an alien, youāve always been one, and youāll be one foreverā.
Your disguise gets better over time. You recognize patterns and watch how everybody else does things. You learn how to talk like them. How to smile through the heavy feeling of being lonely in a crowd.
You make a few real friends. Friends you want to show your real self to. Friends who donāt make you feel like if you do youāll be taken back to a government lab somewhere.
Friends who make you feel a little bit less lonely.
Math was always really hard. But you brush it off saying ānobody likes mathā.
Science made a bit more sense. It just felt a bit more tangible.
Art was your favorite but you always get frustrated when the final picture doesnāt look like how you wanted.
English was easier. Grammar had rules you could follow, and writing was like a conversation but one where you get to say whatās actually on your mind, without any weird stares throwing you off.
You know what to do in class but something in your alien anatomy just wonāt let you.
So you get sent to doctors, therapists, guidance counselors. You get special pills: one to help you sit still, one to help you stop crying, another to help lessen the painful side effects that happen to come whenever you grow tits.
And itās funny because these doctors, therapists, and guidance counselors, itās their job to learn you, and to understand you, but thereās just a disconnect.
Youāre sitting on the carpet floor playing with the abacus at your doctorās office. And you tell her you hear āangels singingā when you look out your window. You tell her that your best friend has something called ācancerā, and that youāre not sure what that means but sometimes sheās not at school for a long time.
You tell her every single one of your weird, bizarre, alien thoughts and all she does is nod and write things down. When youāre done spilling your guts, she sends you into the hallway and your parents go into the room. 15 minutes later your parents come out of the room and you go home. A few days later, your parents are telling you thereās another pill you have to take.
You take it and you hope that thisāll be the pill that makes you happy. Thisāll be the pill that makes you smart. Thisāll be the pill that makes you normal.
And it never will be. Because you will always have to work twice as hard to end up 3 steps behind.
And part of you knows that.
I just want to let you know that pills arenāt supposed to āfixā you. Part of that is because youāre not ābrokenā. Pills are meant to soothe or lessen symptoms that make it difficult for you to function.
Feeling āalienā is common when youāre neurodivergent but that doesnāt mean youāre alone. Everybody has somebody out there. You just gotta look for them.
germansingergirl
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gracieabrams
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