By Yamila García

One of the things that has been most difficult for me to understand about social conventions is how pervasive lies are. People lie to avoid looking bad, so that others don’t see things that are not socially acceptable, or to appear as someone different. People lie all the time about small, even insignificant things. People lie when they are late, as if the excuse they invented could turn back time. But I can’t help thinking, “You are already late! Don’t make it worse!” People also lie to justify their attitudes. They lie about things that don’t even need to be discussed. Silence is often better. Understanding the world around me is a challenge, especially when I consider how many lies are present in the interactions we have with others. Lies have been a great barrier to understanding how society works and how I should act. For me, lies are not the easy choice; I don’t see the need, and I don’t understand how anyone can consider them a better option than the truth. With this, I am not saying that we should go through life without a filter, or tell the truth in the crudest way. However, after spending so many years trying to learn how to communicate in a socially acceptable way, I believe that many of us can find kind and thoughtful ways to express ourselves without lying.

I’m not going to tell you that my life was full of activities if what really happened was that it was difficult for me to organize myself for a few days and I couldn’t find the time to plan something with you. I won’t say that others organized my birthday for me and that’s why you didn’t receive an invitation. I’ll tell you that I didn’t really want to mix groups because you didn’t know any of my other friends and I was worried that it would make you feel uncomfortable. I’ll tell you that I hope we can celebrate it together another day. Behind lies, there is an underestimation of the other that I do not consider respectful. Whether I like you or not, you’re not going to get that from me. Perhaps, it is a consequence of having been underestimated so many times. Sometimes, other people’s mistakes are so hurtful that they help us learn.

By Yamila García

I have come to realize that I am deeply grateful to people, sometimes even more than necessary. It’s not that gratitude is wrong; what feels off to me is being grateful without acknowledging one’s own worth.

As many might understand or relate, being neurodivergent means encountering a lot of rejection and negative attitudes from others. Whether due to ignorance, lack of empathy, or any other reason, many of us have faced rejection, mockery, mistreatment, and prejudice throughout our lives. That’s why, whenever I’ve encountered people who treat me with respect, kindness, and empathy, my gratitude knows no bounds. I find myself unable to stop expressing my thanks, demonstrating how much I appreciate their attitude towards me, and making a commitment to give back even more, to do better, and so on. In those moments when all I could see was them giving to me, I failed to recognize myself as an active participant in the interaction. It hadn’t occurred to me to consider that perhaps I had earned that opportunity or that respect. It’s as if after enduring so many “hits,” one becomes accustomed to it and even starts to believe that it’s normal. However, the mistreatment of those who are different can never be considered normal.

It’s challenging to reconcile with oneself and recognize one’s own value when we’re constantly being told what we’re doing wrong, how strange our behavior is, or how different we appear from others. Nevertheless, and with absolute conviction, I now believe that there is no reason or excuse for the times when we haven’t been treated with respect or empathy. The times when I have received opportunities, respect, and empathy are because I deserve them. I work diligently and approach my tasks with dedication. I value those who collaborate with me, respect their work and ideas, and treat everyone with equal levels of respect. And above all, I understand what it’s like to be denied objective and respectful treatment simply because you are different.

 

By Yamila García

Every time I lose something in my life, I go through grief. No matter how small what I lose is, and although for many it does not matter, for me it means that my routine is altered. I don’t care about material possessions; I’m not interested in having a lot of things or that my things are expensive. However, losing something that long ago belonged to my daily life and having to adapt to a new routine is what makes the loss hurt. It has happened to me with school supplies, clothes, or any element or person that in one way or another was part of my routine, even for a second a day. After losing something, my routine would be different, and that upsets me. It’s not about wanting to have control over everything; it’s that predictability makes everything easier for me.

Today it is totally clear to me that I do not perceive the world like many other people. I so wish I could make neurotypicals see and feel what day-to-day life feels like for me. It is as if I am receiving a hundred calls at once all wanting my attention to give me different information. One tells me: “Look at this place; we don’t know it! Pay attention to where you are going. Why is it so big?” Another tells me: “Do you smell that? We don’t know that smell. It’s annoying! What could it be?” Another might tell me: “There is something shining above us; what is that? A light? Why does it shine so much?” Then another might say: “There are voices! Are they talking to us? What do they say? I can’t listen with so many voices in my head, with so many things shooting information at me, with so much discomfort.”

To this, you would have to add many more “calls,” and even then from the outside, you would only see a person entering a place being shy and looking a little confused. Many of these things are avoided when we know the place beforehand, when we are accustomed to its smell, its colors, the brightness of its lights, its locations, etc. Seeking predictability is just silencing several of those “calls” or voices in my head, receiving less input, and simply having fewer things to handle. As you can imagine, this facilitates interactions, avoids overwhelm and allows me to live more easily.

By Yamila García

A few days ago, very early in the morning, the alarm went off in the building where I live. It was very loud and in the pauses, a voice said to please stay calm and wait for instructions. I was sleeping and contrary to what I could have predicted, I didn’t get overwhelmed. I woke up and almost automatically knew everything I had to do. I took a bag that I had nearby, I put my wallet and an envelope that I had with important documents. I put on clothes and sneakers instantly, without thinking for a second about anything. I am trying to figure out how I did it; everything seemed simple, as simple as if I had written instructions that I was following.

Normally, very loud and sudden noises paralyze me, leaving me unable to think about what to do or what step to take next. However, this was more extreme. There was not only the noise of the alarm but also the fact that it was that noise that brought me out of a deep sleep. Perhaps, this was what caused me to go into an alert mode which, instead of paralyzing me, allowed me to be efficient and do exactly what I needed to do. Perhaps, almost instinctively, my alertness was guarding me against whatever might be happening in the building. It really surprises me how this differs from how I would otherwise respond to loud, repetitive noise.

This particular experience showed me once again that I can function well under pressure and in fact, sometimes I even function better that way. Of course, this state of alert requires significant spending of energy, but it feels good to know that in those extreme moments, I will not paralyze myself. After I was ready for whatever was next, with all my important documents and other important things with me, the alarm stopped. Nothing had happened; the alarm had been activated accidentally.