Jane’s 📚Corner Of Thoughts

[janeelend]

📚Corner of Thoughts: Why does it feel like everyone is suddenly Autistic or ADHD?

It feels like everyone is suddenly autistic or ADHD.

Nothing “suddenly” happened. For decades the criteria only recognised loud, stereotypical cases. Quiet kids, girls, high achievers, people who masked just got called lazy or dramatic instead.

Now people share experiences online and realise, wait… not everyone struggles like this? That’s recognition.

Nothing increased. People just stopped hiding.

[janeelend]

📚 Corner of Thoughts: Why everyone thinks they’re behind in life (even when they’re not)

Everyone feels behind lately. Just… late to their own life.

But you’re comparing your full, messy reality to thousands of strangers’ highlight reels. Their promotions, trips, book deals, smiling photos. Never the breakdowns or the years it took to get there.

Of course you feel late. You’re measuring yourself with a distorted ruler. There is no universal timeline anymore. Progress isn’t “where they are.”

It’s “where you were.”

[janeelend]

📚 Corner of Thoughts: You don’t hate your life. You just hate your lack of control.

Most people don’t hate their lives. They hate how little control they have over them.

Waking up to alarms you didn’t choose, jobs you tolerate, tasks that never end, reacting all day instead of deciding anything for yourself. That is helplessness.

Even small things you choose for yourself feel lighter for a reason. Humans need control.

[janeelend]

Mediocre writing is what's killing writers, not AI.

Everyone’s scared AI will replace writers. It won’t, I promise you.

It’ll replace generic writing. AI is amazing at average. Templates, SEO sludge, safe, beige paragraphs. It’s terrible at being human. It can’t pour its whole existence onto the page. It can’t write from trauma or obsession or 2 a.m. overthinking.

The future belongs to the unmistakable writers. Voice can’t be automated.

[janeelend]

Romance lied to us. Dark Romance accidentally told the truth.

Classic romance said love is soft, safe, and polite. Dark romance said love is messy, irrational, obsessive, and sometimes a little dangerous.

Guess which one feels more honest. We read dark stories because fiction is the only place we’re allowed to explore ugly, intense, complicated feelings safely.

Romance tried to sell perfection. Dark romance accidentally told the truth.

[janeelend]

📚 Corner of Thoughts: Delusion or Manifestation? The psychology of believing so hard that the Universe has to move.

People love calling manifestation delusion. But your brain literally filters reality based on what you expect to see. If you believe nothing will work out, you notice every failure. If you believe something is possible, you start spotting opportunities everywhere.

Same world, but different filter. Most “lucky” people are just stubborn. They keep acting like their future is inevitable.

Delusion is wishing. Manifestation is believing and then moving like it’s already yours.

[janeelend]

📚 Corner of Thoughts: Soft life is a lie. I want a Powerful life.

The internet keeps selling women the “soft life.” Slow down. Want less. Be grateful. Don’t chase too much.

Funny how men are told to build empires and we’re told to light candles and stay small. I don’t want smaller dreams. I want more control. More money. More options. More ownership over my time.

Softness without power is fragile. It can disappear overnight. Power is what lets you rest without fear. So no, I don’t want a soft life.

I want a powerful one. Then I’ll make it soft on my own terms.

[janeelend]

📚 Corner of Thoughts: When writing doesn’t pay the bills but you still can’t quit

I’ve tried to quit writing more times than I can count. Every time I tell myself it’s impractical, unstable and unrealistic. I focus on “real life” for a while. Work, bills, responsibility.

And every time, something in me goes quiet in the worst way. Because writing isn’t a hobby for some of us. It’s how we process life. How we survive it. If I don’t put the feelings somewhere, they just sit in my chest and rot. So I always come back.

Because it feels like oxygen. Maybe the question isn’t why we can’t quit. Maybe it’s why we keep pretending we’re supposed to.

[janeelend]

📚Corner of Thought: Weaponised incompetence is domestic abuse. We just gave it a cute name.

Somewhere along the way, we started calling it “weaponised incompetence,” like it was a meme instead of what it actually is. It is not that he cannot cook, clean, plan, or remember. He manages a job, hobbies, games and friends. His brain works perfectly fine when it benefits him. Suddenly, it breaks only when it comes to shared responsibility.

So you pick up the slack. You remind, organise, carry the mental load for two adults and call it a compromise. But compromise is two people bending. Not one person bending until they disappear.

If someone consistently opts out, you do not have a partner. You have unpaid labour with a romantic label. There is nothing cute about pretending to be helpless so someone else has to be exhausted.

Competence is respect. And you are allowed to want respect in your own home.

J.✨

Read full article: https://medium.com/@janeelend

[janeelend]

I’m not ADHD. I’m not Chaotic. I’m Multi-Dimensional.

There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from being misunderstood your entire life. It is the slow erosion of being told, again and again, that you are too much and not enough at the same time. Too distracted, too intense, too emotional, too ambitious, too scattered. As if your existence arrived with the wrong instruction manual and everyone else received a cleaner, simpler version of reality while you were left with static.

For years, I believed my brain was broken because it refused to move in straight lines. Teachers wanted steps. Employers wanted structure. Society wanted a narrow ladder with neat, predictable rungs. One goal, one career, one passion, please... Meanwhile, my mind behaved like a thunderstorm. Ideas collided midair, interests overlapped shamelessly. I could be researching neuroscience at noon, sketching character designs by three, outlining a novel by five, and reading about the behavioural patterns of crows at midnight, like it mattered more than sleep. Apparently, that was called chaos. Apparently, that was called a disorder.

But lately, I have started to suspect something almost rebellious. Maybe the problem was never my brain. Maybe the problem is that we keep measuring oceans with rulers. ADHD, when filtered through the language of deficiency, sounds clinical and small. Low attention, poor regulation, executive dysfunction. It reads like a list of things you cannot do, a catalogue of failures dressed up as medical terminology. Yet neuroscience tells a far more interesting story. An ADHD brain does not lack attention... It struggles with regulating attention. Which means that when something truly matters, when something sparks, the focus becomes almost supernatural. Hours dissolve, hunger disappears, the world narrows to a single bright thread. You become precise, relentless and obsessed.

The same person who forgets to answer emails can build entire fictional universes from nothing. The same woman who loses her keys daily can memorise lyrics, mythologies and entire conversations from years ago. The same mind that struggles through a meeting can produce forty thousand words in a week because a story refuses to let her rest. Tell me again that sounds like a defect. It sounds like excess voltage. It sounds like a system designed for exploration instead of fluorescent offices and polite small talk.

We live in a culture that worships linearity. Pick one path, stay consistent, be tidy, be predictable, be legible. But some of us are not highways. We are cities... Messy, layered and alive with too many lights. There are too many rooms inside us to pretend we are a studio flat. Autism sharpened my observation skills until they felt almost predatory. ADHD gave me curiosity that borders on obsession. Together, they built a mind that notices everything. The shift in someone’s voice when they lie or the micro expression before they cry, or the symbolism hidden inside a lyric, and the pattern connecting events other people dismiss as coincidence. Do you know what that creates? A storyteller. A psychologist without the clipboard. A woman who can read a room in under a minute.

If that is dysfunction, it is the most useful dysfunction I have ever seen. The tragedy is that we are taught to perform normality until we forget that difference can be an advantage. We keep trying to fix ourselves instead of questioning whether the environment was designed poorly in the first place. A fish is not bad at climbing trees. The test is simply stupid... Yet every day, neurodivergent people wake up and try to climb anyway. We download productivity apps, we buy planners, we shame ourselves for not being calm enough, consistent enough or disciplined enough. We try to compress galaxies into spreadsheets, and then we wonder why we feel exhausted.

What if the goal was never to become normal? What if the goal was to design a life that actually fits the brain you have. A life with multiple projects instead of one suffocating career... Variety instead of monotony and space to hyperfocus. Space to disappear into art. Space to follow strange obsessions that turn into books, businesses and entire identities. Because here is the uncomfortable truth nobody says out loud: The world is built by people like us. The weird ones, the obsessive ones, the ones who cannot leave an idea alone.

Innovation rarely comes from balanced minds. It comes from minds that wander too far and refuse to come back unchanged. Maybe ADHD is abundance without a container. Too many ideas, too many emotions and too much life. So instead of trying to shrink it, I am learning to build bigger containers. Multiple income streams instead of one fragile job. Several creative outlets instead of one narrow hobby. Systems that bend around me instead of forcing myself to bend until something cracks.

I am not chaotic. I am multi-dimensional! I am interested in too many things to pretend otherwise. I am tidal, seasonal and alive. And maybe that is the real shift. Asking how big my life needs to be to hold all of me. Because once you stop trying to amputate parts of your personality, something strange happens. You start feeling dangerous in the best possible way. Like a mind that does not fit inside the box might actually be the one meant to build a new world outside it.

Honestly, I would rather be a storm than a straight line.