By Yamila García

Often, when we talk about hobbies, we refer to things that are playful, entertaining, and enjoyable. However, while my hobbies also bring me “joy,” I feel that, many times, my hobbies are a refuge. My hobbies not only bring me joy, but they are also soothing and sometimes even grounding. They help me recover when my social battery has been completely drained, organize my thoughts, and become “functional” again after extreme situations. 

Recently, inspired by a neurodivergent friend, I decided to learn to crochet. I started with something super simple, like a beanie, following a video tutorial. I liked that the hand movements were repetitive, so I quickly learned to do them by heart. The rhythm took me to a state of zero anxiety; rhythm and repetition have always brought me calm. I could crochet for hours, no matter what I’m making, just for the sake of continuing—repeating the steps without stopping while my mind frees itself from the anxiety and exhaustion of the day.  

This made me think about how many times I’ve heard people underestimate others’ hobbies, completely unaware of how important they can be in helping us process the emotions of everyday life. Hobbies can even help us develop more complex ideas by simply grounding us and allowing us to think more clearly, without so much clutter in our heads. Hobbies are not just games; they can be a way to take care of ourselves and heal. 

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.

By Yamila García

I don’t want people to solve my problems for me. Nor do I want them to go through my difficulties for me or eliminate the complications that I may find in my path. I never intended for them to remodel reality for me or to adapt to what is comfortable for me. It would never occur to me to ask them to change the ways in which things have been done and work for others. I think that when many hear about inclusion, they have a confused idea of what it means, and perhaps that is the main barrier to achieving it. An accessibility ramp was never a reason to eliminate stairs. Likewise, accommodations for other needs should not be a reason to eliminate spaces or resources that still work for others.

All I would like is that in every space I go to, which probably won’t be designed for my way of seeing the world, there are places or accessory aids that I can use to make it more manageable for me. I think about how many times it could have helped me to have a quiet space to take away some of the overstimulation. Or how many other times a simple PDF explaining “what to expect” could have reduced my anxiety about the new and unexpected. I also think about how many have been inclusive without even realizing it. Professors uploading videos introducing themselves to their class through HuskyCT a week before the semester starts probably don’t know how much this helped me. Breaks during long events, quiet spaces to just relax for a few minutes in between, professors and offices offering different ways to contact them—all these things help. Basically, having options helps. Many of the things that can be done are simple and do not involve extra work for anyone. Just goodwill. I know that there are accommodations that involve other types of effort and dynamics, but in this case, I am only talking about those that can be adapted simply, quickly, and with minimal or no cost. These are things that can help many of us and are a basis for beginning to understand that we all function differently.

By Yamila García

I remember my younger self wanting to try things other people did. Many things weren’t clear to me at that time, so I wanted to try and see why I didn’t feel attracted or compelled to do this or that. I always observed how people interacted, and through that, I learned what was expected of me and what was considered socially acceptable. I knew what I had to do to “fit in”; I had it all studied in my mind. However, every time I tried something, things didn’t go as they were supposed to.

I think that by telling you that in my country a normal time to go to dinner at a restaurant is around 10:30 or 11 pm, you can imagine how late any other type of night out is. Just eating pizza at a friend’s house would imply that I had to stay up until 1 am at a minimum. Getting together with your friends in my country will never be a quick one-hour coffee; it will be several hours. Considering that by dinner time it would have been a whole day of stimuli and social interactions that imply fatigue due to the energy that all this entails, by dinner time things were getting difficult.

I was beginning to notice that my eyelids were getting heavy, that I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and that in that trance between the conscience that told me “you can’t fall asleep in public” and the overwhelming drowsiness that seemed to crush me, reality would begin to distort. The tiredness would become so profound that I would even confuse the shapes of things before my eyes, seeing things that weren’t really there or weren’t what I thought I was seeing.

I always enjoyed being with my friends, but it became so difficult to handle this. Of course, I was discouraged. I felt frustrated and wanted not to go anymore. In any case, I sought to understand myself with the tools I had then. I took lighter days before having a meeting with friends or joined them when the activities were earlier (although I didn’t understand why I would get more tired than my friends). Over time, bars became fashionable around 6 pm, and that was great for me. I also began to know myself better and understand when my social battery was about to run out; I would immediately disappear in a taxi. Some coworkers even joked that I was Cinderella and that my car would turn into a pumpkin at 12.

In each stage of my life, the worst time is when I deny who I am, and the best time is when I embrace who I am. Denying difficulties is not going to make them disappear; however, when you know yourself more and better, you can take care of yourself and respect your needs.

 

By Yamila García

People often tell me that I know how to do many things. I am not sure if this is something I became on purpose or not. On one hand, I always thought that other people treat you well when you are somehow useful to them and that was for me almost the only way to connect with others. On the other hand, I was never good at communicating, so it was better not to ask for help but to work on anything I needed for myself. I tried to become efficient and resourceful. That was conscious. However, I also had to learn how to do many things independently just because asking for help meant interacting with people, which could be more exhausting than learning by myself.

I know that these kinds of relationships based on my utility to others are not ideal nor fair to me. However, far from seeking the ideal, sometimes it was just about making it work and not looking so “out of place” in society. I always accepted my differences but I understood that as unfair as it sounds, if I wanted the respect and recognition of my peers, I had to be useful. Well, useful or entertaining, but considering my abilities, being useful was the only option for me. Observing the world as I did, I saw that relationships were often based on the usefulness of one party and a need of the other, or the admiration of one party and the desire for the attention of the other. I know these are not the only ways but they looked like the less complex at a point in my life. So I went with “useful” and I tried to be that for the world around me. I thought, “If every time someone says something I know about that particular topic, they will think I’m interesting or smart, or at least not so weird.” I feel bad for my younger self now. I know I don’t have to do this anymore but now again, it is a kind of mask that we, neurodivergent use to hide what doesn’t fit into this society. How do we differentiate who we really are from this mask we’ve used for so many years? That’s not easy, at least for me. I’m still working on figuring out who I am and what I had to be just to adapt to this world.