Steps to Stabilization After Learning You are NeuroDivergent

When I was finally diagnosed Autistic at the age of 29, I realized all I had lost in my years of forcing myself into conformity and set out on a mission to get the person I lost back.

It was a few months before my thirtieth birthday when I was diagnosed Autistic, and soon after, I stumbled upon the term 'NeuroDivergent. ' It was like a lightbulb moment, a sudden realization that explained so much about my life. 

When I did not know I was Autistic (or about the other ways my brain "diverges" from the normative average), it held me back because I kept trying (and failing) to mimic the people around me, often without understanding the reasoning behind the actions I mimicked.

Lyric, with long black hair and red lipstick, in a red cape, with a silver and red metal mask on half their face.

---

---

Something can happen to a person when their true Self is repeatedly denied (or punished). 

When people constantly tell you that your experiences, needs, and perceptions are 'wrong,' 'bad,' and untrue, it can shake your confidence and make you question (or deny) your own feelings and experiences. 

For thirty years, I had been living in a world that expected me to be something I wasn't (a neurotypically average person). I'd internalized that expectation, making it my own (without even realizing I was doing it), hiding parts of myself away that created unfavorable reactions in the people around me. 

Before learning the truth about my brain, when I would try to speak about my needs to people, I was told (over and over again) that I was "being too sensitive," "complaining too much," or "fussing about things that weren't bothering other people." 

I was frequently advised that I needed to "complain less," "toughen up," and "put more effort" into things (despite already having put in the maximum amount of effort I was capable of), leading me to believe my best would never be good enough (for others or myself). 

---

---

When I needed support, I found blame.

Growing up, when I sought help or support from people around me, it would often backfire (because people usually felt I shouldn't be asking for help with things they had decided should be "easy" for me to do). 

Young Lyric, smiling as required for a photo. They have black hair, a pale face, and newly growing in front teeth.

For example, in school, when the fluorescent lights were painfully bright, and I complained to the teacher that I needed sunglasses in her classroom, I was told I "was the only person complaining," as my teacher confiscated my sunglasses because "they weren't allowed in the building because they were a distraction to the learning environment" or when I kept going to the nurse because of headaches and was told I "had to stay in class" (because my headaches were happening every day and the nurse didn't believe me, thinking it was because I didn't like school - which was also true). 

It's too bad nobody thought to ask why I didn't like school back then. 

School refusals happen for a reason. 

In my case, it was because my needs weren't being met (and were being framed as a problem). 

I knew I was uncomfortable in the first grade, but when I tried to speak up, I was punished and scolded for it, so I stopped. 

I stopped trying to bring sensory protection to school, and I stopped telling my teacher when I was feeling unwell - though I continued to experience regular headaches and migraines for the next twenty years (migraines that could have been avoided by simply limiting exposure to fluorescent lighting). 

Middle school Lyric, in a silver and black prom-dress, with their face painted white, dark eyes, and bright red lipstick, they pout, holding a red rose, with a maroon band on their wrist.

Because asking for help and support often brought more bad to me than good, I stopped asking people for help and seeking support from others. 

Instead, turning inwards, becoming hyper-independent as a way to cope with the distrust and lack of emotional (and often physical safety) I found with other humans. 

I learned to distract myself from my discomfort as a way to survive the constant state of panic and unease, sickness, and pain I regularly found myself in (back when I didn't understand my own brain). 

The denials of other people became my own denials of Self, and their stories and prophesies about me became my own. 

People judged me and my capabilities based on their experiences and capabilities without understanding that their skills and experiences differed significantly from mine. 

Similarly, because I didn't understand my own brain, I could not understand other people's minds back then. This led me to falsely believe those around me telling me how I should and should not feel about things experienced the world as I did, knew what I was experiencing, and gave advice based on understanding my experiences - which was wrong. 

Blending in was safer than standing out. 

I was born to stand out. However, standing out caused people to mock, scold, belittle, or punish me, so (to keep myself safe) I learned different skills to help me blend in. 

Invisibility was safety (because being seen or noticed could bring violence, pain, and shame). 

Back then I was trying to be the "ideal me" but not the ideal me I wanted to be, the ideal me I thought I had to be, because of what others expected me to do, think, and become. 

Paid subscribers have access to the rest of the story. Thanks to every one of you for supporting my work.

Half-Priced Low-Income Subscription Available

If you are in need of a discount, please use the link below to get your subscription at a deep discount (because I don't want money to be an obstacle to people):

https://neurodivergentrebel.substack.com/LowIncomeDiscount

For readers experiencing financial hardship, please note that this offer is exclusively for you. This discount is offered on the “honors system” - I am not going to ask anyone for proof.

Please, kindly refrain from taking this offer if you do not need it.

I hope this helps,
- Lyric