I’ve been in denial to the extent of my neurodiversity for most of my life. I learned unknowingly at an early age how to adapt and present like everyone else. I’ve gotten good at it, but it is incredibly draining to maintain. I want, more than anything, to be normal.
I thought if I was a good boy, worked hard, and played by the rules then I would get the love and attention I craved. I got good grades, I played sports, I stayed out of trouble. I thought all of that would be enough. Unfortunately, it made me more invisible.
I think I have hit rock bottom again! I’ve been here before. The furniture is a bit dusty, but the space is familiar. It feels like a pattern. Its not a pattern I care to continue. Alas, I am here.
There is no incredible insight to share today but rather two blurbs that may or may not significantly move along the storyline that I call my life.
Who or what determines what belief considered good and/or bad?
Days hold no significance unless a group of people come together to make it so.
“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”
It is my biggest demon. It is what I believe is holding me back from a life of joy and happiness. It is the excuse I use when I cannot get my shit together in my own mind for why life is the way it is.
As I dig deeper and deeper into my neurosis, I then begin to wonder how much of me is broken, how much is common amongst the population, what is fixable and how, and how much is just personality traits that are not completely awkward to be around.