By Yamila García

A few days ago, I read an article about peer pressure and how this is a concern for many parents of teenagers. The search for acceptance in certain groups drives the choice of certain behaviors, some harmless and others dangerous. I tried to think if I had ever felt this or if my parents had felt concern about me at that stage of my life, but I could not identify that this had happened in my life. Then, considering that this is something quite common, I tried to think about why it did not affect me. Why did I not feel peer pressure? Well, to feel peer pressure, I should have understood in the first place what my peers wanted or were looking for. And if there was something that marked my relationship with my peers, it was precisely the lack of understanding. I could not understand their tastes, why they acted the way they did, or even their way of speaking many times. I could not feel pressure because there was a big part that I was missing. 

 If I ever felt pressure, it was self-imposed. Because even though I didn’t understand what my peers did, I did realize that we were very different and that I found it difficult to do things that they did easily. That’s why I carried a giant backpack of guilt and responsibility, of having to be able to do what everyone else did. After all, I was a girl like all of them. That’s what I thought because despite recognizing that I was different, I didn’t have my diagnosis until I was an adult. And no, my effort and pressure to “fit in” never came from a need to belong, but from a need to be efficient and simply be able to do the things that were so difficult for me. I had the illusion that the more effort I put in and exposed myself to what was difficult for me, the faster I would get used to it, and it would stop being difficult for me to do it. As you can imagine, even though with practice I improved in some aspects, things never became easy. So, yes my journey was never about fitting in with others, but about trying to understand and accept myself in a world that often felt so foreign. 

By Yamila García

In this process of learning some things and unlearning others, I think a lot about how much I have changed over time. These changes may be seen as positive from a neurotypical perspective, but for me, they do not represent justice or self-love. I want to continue to reconnect with myself, and that is why I analyze my changes. I have realized that over the years, I have learned to “smile more.” I smile when I am uncomfortable, I smile when I am overwhelmed, I smile when I perceive that others are uncomfortable. Why do I do it? I think it is so as not to make others uncomfortable… And a little also so as not to make myself uncomfortable, because, at the end of the day, that is what society expects. Whenever you smile, they will be nicer to you, they will be more predisposed, and they will not make you feel like you are a stone in the road bothering whoever wants to pass by. The problem is, whether I smile or not, I am not that… Intolerance to what is different is not my fault, nor is it my responsibility to resolve it. From childhood, we learn that those who are different make people uncomfortable, and society is not a very good host to those who are different. 

I don’t want to lose myself; I don’t want to lose who I am. I analyze myself, I question myself, and ask if the person I am today is who I really am or what society allowed me to be. I do it because I understand that it is not bad to be who I am, because I grew up and adapted to survive many things that I did not understand, but today, as an adult, I want to take care of the girl that I was. I feel that I lost a lot of my authenticity along the way. That is why now I want to live doing justice to who I am, give myself the freedom to be who I was supposed to be, and free myself from the limitations that living in a world that was not designed for me imposed on me. It is not easy work, but I feel that it is the best project in which I can put my energy and that I owe it to myself. 

By Yamila García

I don’t love the gym; I used to get bored and annoyed by having to go. I’ve always been more into sports, but there’s not much to do in the area where I’m living, so I have no choice. I’ve tried to go to the gym many times, but I always ended up not going. I went very reluctantly, and while I was there, I couldn’t wait to leave. I also wondered if it was fair that the moment I had to do something, it had to be something I didn’t enjoy at all. 

I recently tried once again to get used to the idea of the gym. I thought that if I wanted this time to be different from the previous ones, I had to do things in a different way. On the one hand, I decided to go in the morning, something I never did because I waited to “gather strength” during the day and ended up going exhausted and frustrated in the evening. On the other hand, I also decided not to let that “all or nothing” thinking determine what I did there. I would go, and at least I would be moving, and with that, I would feel satisfied. 

 The first time I went in the morning, I felt a very strong change in my mood. I felt as if my brain had been cleansed of anxiety, worries, and darkness. I returned home proud of having gone and with a lot of positive energy that allowed me to continue the day with optimism and a desire to do more things for myself. Also, by not having gone full of expectations and simply listening to my body, I was putting together a routine that didn’t weigh me down so much, and I ended up liking it. By liking it, I was able to maintain it over time, and suddenly I began to notice how I had to increase the weight in the exercises because I no longer felt anything. Clearly, without realizing it, I had not only cleared my mind but also strengthened my body. 

 Working out is clearly having a positive impact on my mind. I never thought that exercising could have an even bigger impact on my mind than on my body; I never thought it could solve so many things that I struggled with for so long. I know it’s something that is said and that many professionals recommend, but many times taking that first step takes time and requires courage, especially when you have tried so many times without success. 

By Yamila García

I often try to remember a particular event in my life and find that I can’t remember almost anything. I’ve been mulling this over for a while, and I finally think I’m understanding why I have these gaps in my memory. It’s not common for me to forget something, but in these specific cases, I can’t remember almost anything. What these events have in common, which creates a gap in my memory, is that they were all extremely stressful. I often ask myself: how was I able to give that presentation at school when I was a teenager? How was I able to speak in a meeting with so many people? How was I able to do that job interview or start that job where everything was new and everyone was extremely extroverted? And the reality is that I simply abstracted myself from reality and from myself. I have memories of seeing myself from outside myself, with that feeling of being outside the world, observing myself and others. The world is spinning, everyone is spinning with it, and my mind is out there floating somewhere while my body “seemed” to keep spinning like everyone else. That disconnection of body and mind has allowed me to pretend that I was functioning as expected, but it feels like I was never there, like I never spoke at that meeting, or went to that interview, or met those people… I don’t remember what I felt in those moments, how I went through them, what was going through my mind at that moment, because I wasn’t really there. 

 Over time, there are fewer and fewer gaps in my memory. Partly because I have advanced and grown in various areas of my life, and partly because I respect myself and no longer force certain things so much. I am no longer willing to do myself such harm that I need to dissociate in order to survive it. In any case, sometimes it is difficult to find a balance between pushing myself to go for more and respecting my limits. Sometimes those limits are not so clear, or perhaps my self-demand blurs them so I can continue going for more. 

By Yamila García

This year, I fulfilled many dreams. Dreams that sometimes I didn’t even want to admit that I had because they seemed so distant and big that I preferred to deny them rather than face what I believed was the reality of not being able to achieve them. I know that people usually make resolutions for the new year, but I never dared to make them. Maybe it is an aversion to failure, or simply wanting to live without expectations to avoid more pain, considering that life is often quite uncomfortable. 

 Like many on the spectrum, I was obsessed with a particular topic in science. Mine was space, astronomy, space travel, and the mysteries of the universe in general. I know that NASA is something known by everyone here and around the world today, but when I was little in my country, few knew anything about it. They might know the name, but not much else. I, always against the grain, was obsessed with NASA. Without internet access until my teens, I spent hours in my school library reading every astronomy and astronautics book there was. Later, now being able to access the internet, I spent hours reading about the most current news about launches and projects at NASA. I was fascinated by the videos of the launches at Cape Canaveral. I could draw many of the rockets or space shuttles from memory and in great detail. 

 This year, almost by chance, I went to the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Florida. All of my little girl feelings came back to me as if they had never left, because they never left, but I had silenced them. I realize that I am doing justice to that girl I was by fulfilling all the dreams she had. This meant a lot to me not only because it was a dream I had when I was a child, but also because life took me there almost without noticing it. I didn’t plan it or look for it, but I never stopped encouraging myself to do things and get out of my comfort zone once again. And that is the reason why I have fulfilled so many dreams lately. Leaving my comfort zone makes me feel like my body is disintegrating from the pain, but it has brought me the greatest joys in my life. 

By Yamila García

If you have ever been to the ER, you have probably noticed the chaotic pace there. As expected, tension, urgency, and suffering can be observed. I have recently been there, and it has made me think a lot about how far the health system is from understanding the needs of neurodivergents. The uncertainty and waiting times are just the beginning of the mountain of chaos that one has to face there. Not only do you not know when or what they are going to do to you, but you have to wait a long time in an environment that is not at all “neurodivergent-friendly.” The “beeps,” for God’s sake! The voices, the moans, the screams, the wheels of the stretchers and wheelchairs, the buzzing devices. Not to mention the extremely bright lights and the changes of nurses and doctors without prior notice. Suddenly you are with a nurse, and a few minutes later another one appears, all of them talking faster than you can process, adding to the overwhelming confusion.

I know that everyone comes with urgent problems and that everyone wants to be attended to on time. I understand it and I would not expect priority of any kind in terms of waiting time. However, I have realized that every time I have stepped foot in an ER, I have left with the health problem I had unresolved due to being exhausted and needing to be home before bursting into tears. Frustration, exhaustion, and anger at not being able to receive the care I needed in a calmer environment made me ask to leave after 10-12 hours of putting up with being in that totally unfavorable environment for me. 

Physical health care is another area in which my way of perceiving the world interferes. I always try to have a positive outlook regarding progress in inclusion, but there are moments like these when I think the road is longer and more difficult than we would like. Yet, it is an even stronger reason to continue working, communicating, and educating.