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.

By Yamila García

Last week, I walked at my Commencement ceremony, and I couldn’t help but think about the path I’ve come from. Coming from such a different place, the campus not only felt scary but also impressive. The schools in my country are very different from those here and, of course, much smaller than UConn. The idea of studying at UConn seemed like a dream when I visited the Avery Point campus in Groton with my conversational English teacher. However, my first semester at UConn in Fall 2021, those feelings began to change. It was no longer a dream; it was now reality, and I felt privileged to be there, to be able to study at the alma mater of my childhood hero and to have the possibility of training academically in this country. The first semester was significant not only because it was my first at UConn but also because it was the first time I started something knowing that I am neurodivergent. I had received my diagnosis a few months earlier and had registered for the Neurodiversity in Engineering class (UNIV 1810). Without knowing it, thanks to that, I had opened a door to know myself more and better explore and use my abilities. The road was long and often frustrating, but I always found people willing to help me. I even had a peer-mentor from the School of Engineering to whom I ran every time despair drowned me, and he always managed to advise me and calm me down with patience. Before finding him, I had tried more than 5 other resources at school without success until I finally signed up for his program. Pure empathy, the best peer mentor ever!

There were many fears, doubts, and frustrations, but I was always able to move forward. Nothing worthwhile is easy, but everything is possible. I think the most important thing of all for this to go well was knowing myself and knowing what I need to make it work. As a neurodivergent navigating a world that was not designed for me, I am eternally grateful to those who made my path easier, but I also know that I worked hard to make it happen. I believed and learned a lot about who I am, how I can better exploit my abilities, and how to navigate difficulties in a healthier way. I am grateful to have taken that class the first semester, to be part of Include, and to continue writing for this blog. I am grateful to the people I surrounded myself with and from whom I learned so much. There is always someone we can count on; if you haven’t found them, keep looking. I know what it feels like to knock on doors and not receive the help we need, but it is not just one door that we will have to knock on to find the help we need. Being constant and persistent is the only thing that will make us find the right doors.

 

By Yamila García

Feelings are a puzzle for me. Love, especially, is quite the enigma when you pause to ponder it. What does it feel like to love? How does it shape our connections? And how do we even know when it’s there? And just to be clear, when I talk about feelings, I’m not just talking about romantic stuff. Feelings cover a wide range, from pain and sadness to anger, fear, and frustration.

The thing about feelings is, they’re hard to figure out; they don’t follow any logical rules. And logic? Well, logic is my compass. I’m used to examining everything, trying to find the rational path through it all. But when feelings don’t fit into that logic, I feel lost. It’s like using a map that suddenly stops making sense. How do I make sense of being hurt by the opinion of someone I barely know?

I get it. Feelings don’t always make sense. In fact, they often defy logic altogether. But the unpredictability can be maddening! It’s tough to feel something that your brain tells you is silly. Feelings leave us vulnerable, which is probably why I’ve caught myself shutting down, blocking out emotions without even realizing it. My need for control and predictability has often kept me from feeling what I should. I’ve learned to recognize when this happens, but mastering it is still a work in progress. It’s all about self-awareness, though; knowing yourself gives you the tools to navigate to live a fuller life. A life in which feelings are not something that you prefer to ignore, but something that when handled correctly can make you learn from whatever experience you go through and ultimately drive your next steps.

 

By Yamila García

I have no memory of ever arriving in enough time for a homework due date. There are several reasons for this to happen, but I think the main one is my difficulty in working on several projects simultaneously. Until I finish one, it is very difficult for me to start another. The homework or the work I am doing completely absorbs me and every time I take focus away from it, I feel like I have to start from scratch. It’s as if there is a fear of forgetting everything I’ve done so far and losing progress… Almost as if the computer has no memory and doesn’t save what I’ve done. But yes, both the computer and I remember. So I don’t understand it, I don’t know why that happens like that. But it makes me angry, overwhelmed and frustrated that I can’t work little by little on several simultaneous projects.

I do my work, I do deliver it on time, although with the minimum amount of time before the due date. However, I know I could do much better. I know that by starting early and not just working on a single task until exhaustion, I could use my time more effectively and get better results. Many times I know the most efficient way to do something, I know how to do a better job but my brain works differently. And as much as I wish it weren’t like that in that case, that’s how I am and I can only work little by little to improve. The frustration that always comes is of no use. It also makes me wonder if this is one more of the frustrations that we neurodivergents face when inhabiting a world that was not designed for us. I’m definitely not the only one who works like this, but I know we’re not the majority either. Many of these situations make us angry with ourselves even though we know we shouldn’t. The world around us doesn’t understand us and we blame ourselves for being unable to handle it.

By Yamila García

When I need help the most is when I am least able to ask for it. In those moments when everything around me overwhelms me, I lack the ability to request what I need to emerge from that state. The accumulation of stimuli, sudden changes, or scenery shifts can stress me to the point of losing my abilities. Many times, when this reaches a deep level, I lose the ability to identify my feelings, articulate words, or perform even the simplest tasks that I can normally do without issue. I have automatic responses I can use just to shield myself in these situations, where I simply say: ‘I’m a little tired,’ so no one questions my withdrawal or unusual behavior; this is my ‘unmasked’ self. I’ve noticed how some are labeled as spoiled for struggling with tasks they once handled effortlessly. The misinformation and lack of empathy from those who haven’t experienced it firsthand are evident. It truly saddens me to realize that, in addition to the typical challenges many of us have grown accustomed to, we also have to endure scrutiny in these situations.

I hope everyone has someone close whom they can inform in advance of how to assist them in these moments when we cannot ask for help but need it more than ever. I hope you don’t refrain from requesting what you need just because you encounter those who still view us as difficult. You can even write down simple instructions on your phone for how to help you and show it at such times. Asking for help isn’t easy, I understand. Especially when, for many years, we’ve been labeled as difficult, problematic, or simply strange. However, none of that is true, and there’s always someone willing to help, even when it feels like there isn’t. But more importantly, we deserve to get the help we need.