I'm neurodivergent.......so what? PT.1

 

Yes, as the title says, I'm neurodivergent......so what?

I've never felt the need to announce it, shout it from the rooftops or become a content creator on the subject, so this post on it will probably be the last unless I'm asked or I feel there's a point and purpose that could help others. With or without the label I'm still me, I've always been me and those that have always loved me still love me and those who have always liked me still like me.....I think ? 🤣 There have been a few that have buggered off of course but if it's the right thing for them, then I'm happy for them and wish them nothing but love and a good life, it will certainly be quieter without me.

Like many I was late to the party when it came to a diagnosis some years ago now, and what an incredibly chaotic rollercoaster ride of a party it's been.Having often thought of myself as a weird little shit or/and an annoying little shit growing up, I've always struggled when it comes to other people, so as an adult I wanted to try and understand why I struggle so much. One of the biggest shocks I got during my assessment was finding out that I'd spent nearly a whole lifetime thinking that everyone else heard and saw words at the same time as I do.  "You see words? " said the assessor, and her tone made me think that maybe it wasn't as normal as i'd thought.  So when I'm talking or anyone else is talking including a song on the radio or a TV show, I hear the words but I also see the words, they come up really quickly at the front of my head like subtitles, there are times it can be a tad  overwhelming but from birth until now I've never questioned it because I assumed it was the same for everyone. To find out as a grown arsed adult that it's not was, like I said, a massive shock. I don't think I quite believed her at first, in fact after the assessment I went and randomly asked a few people but could instantly  tell by the  way they looked at me like " a weird little shit" that the assessor was indeed telling the truth.

It certainly made more sense of my school days, I was thrown out of class on my very first day at infants school and that set the scene for the rest of my schooling until I left at 16, and then I had exactly the same trouble at college. I saw the words, I heard the words, but then they were gone, they never stuck around long enough for me to have time to understand what was being said "So what don't you get? " a teacher would ask crossly having already explained  multiple times.

"Any of it, I don't get any of it" I'd respond, shrugging my shoulders.  Now, I should explain that to survive life as me, from a young age I realised I could make people laugh, even my teachers used to say they were sure i'd go into comedy when i was older. I didn't like to tell them I had no intentions and was going to be a popstar instead, but anyway, I didn't have to do anything, they just found me funny, maybe it was because I was "a weird little shit" who knows, but it got me accepted amongst my classmates, I belonged and so it made life a little easier.  However it also meant that when I couldn't follow instructions or understand something that had been explained multiple times, teachers thought I was  just playing up and would start getting really cross, confrontational and challenging    " Do you think your funny, are you trying to be a smart arse?"  I don't know why I found it amusing, I don't think I actually did but  I'd automatically start laughing while trying to explain I was being serious, the more angry the teacher got the more i'd laugh uncontrollably, tears running down my cheeks until I was sent to sit in the corridor or to see the head. It always felt as though someone was disappointed in me, but no more so than me.It was so exhausting trying to be "normal" and fit in.

I had taken myself  to the doctor as a kid to try and explain that it felt like I had a motor inside that I couldn't switch off, it felt as though I should be running, doing something really physical, so to be made to sit still and focus was actually physically painful for me, it felt as though I would explode or projectile vomit, so I had to fidget, keep moving, rock back and forth on two legs of the chair anything but stay still.  He'd always say the same thing "Anxiety" and want to put me on meds, but I refused. Another time I tried to explain it differently like I was a lemonade bottle that had been shaken up and the top needed to come off, so to sit still and focus was so painful, again he'd say "Anxiety" another time I explained it was as though there was all this adrenalin rushing around my body and I struggled to stay still or stop talking but he'd mock, grin and say adrenalin didn't rush around your body and i'd tell him I was just a child, I didn't know the science of it all or the right medical terms I was just trying to explain how it felt? ....but he'd say..... "Anxiety, I can give you meds".  I  refused again. You couldn't change doctors like you can today, so I just eventually gave up and got on with it. But "Getting on with it" meant the start of self harming at the age of eleven, it was the only thing that switched the motor off for a little while and gave some relief, again, I didn't understand the  science around it all at the time, just that it worked, but with it came a heap of shame, I knew it wasn't right, but I was desperate, so it became a secret for the next ten  years. Continue reading PT.2. Keep on keepin'on. Back before  Elvis .