By Yamila García
I have this quirk that is often misinterpreted as being possessive. It’s not that I don’t like to share or that I don’t want to, even though it can come across that way. The truth is, I get deeply attached to certain things and people that make me feel comfortable. As a neurodivergent person, comfort is rare in my life. Many things feel uncomfortable, chaotic, or even painful. So when I find something that brings me calm, joy or security, I hold onto it tightly. This attachment can sometimes look like possessiveness, which is defined as: “a feeling of wanting to control or own someone or something.” In my case, it’s probably more about control, but control tied to the fear of losing what feels like an oasis in the middle of the desert. The unpredictable overwhelms me, so having control over what I can helps ensure that I don’t lose what brings me comfort.
When it comes to people, this might look like wanting to share as many experiences as possible with them. Doing things together makes me feel that if we have more in common, if we enjoy more moments together, our bond will be stronger and they will stay in my life. It might sound toxic, but I don’t think so. I don’t mind if the people I care about spend time with others, nor do I expect them to always prioritize me. My way of showing that someone matters to me might just look different from how others do it. I’ve been told this many times, and not in a bad way. People ask me how I remember small details, stories, and dreams they’ve shared. The truth is, I simply pay close attention to what matters to me. Over time, I’ve learned that I don’t need to do everything with someone to maintain a strong connection.
What may seem more like possessiveness is my deep urge to protect the things and people I care about. I know I take on a responsibility that isn’t mine, but it’s hard not to intervene when I feel that something important to me is at risk. In some ways, it feels as if my refuge, my peace and comfort, are being threatened. I can become defensive, trying to stop what I perceive as an attack, even when it might not be one. I work every day to recognize these moments and shift my perspective so that fear doesn’t turn into the need for control.