By Yamila García

Self-pressure is something you learned, not something you were born with. The obvious differences I’ve had since childhood and the subsequent reactions from people made me keenly aware of how others perceive me. That’s how I learned to demand and pressure myself to be “enough” in the eyes of others, as if there were a way to measure what “enough” truly means. However, nothing I did was ever sufficient in my own critical view. Thus, I spent all my years trying to compensate for the negative perceptions I knew my differences caused in others. I fought hard to reverse that, but the more I struggled, the farther I moved from achieving it. The more I learned and accomplished, the more distant I felt from that approving look that I so desired.

The reality was that the first person who disapproved of me and didn’t consider me enough was myself. I know that the gaze of others influenced the way I saw myself too. Although I allowed myself to be authentic in many aspects of my life, on the other hand I sought approval by trying to be as efficient and capable as possible. And in that search I trampled my feelings and denied the importance of who I am. I lost the battle when I gave others the power to define my value. I stopped loving myself for thinking that I had to be efficient so that others would think: well, she may be weird but at least she’s useful. Because I learned that people are often kind when you are useful to them. But I am much more than useful! How sad to be like this really. Measuring how much you respect the other according to how much they can contribute to you.

I was always enough but I lived many years without knowing it. I was enough even the times I felt like I was nothing. I am enough, beyond the gaze of others, beyond my fears, my differences and my skills. I am enough and valuable because I exist, live and fight day by day. Don’t let anyone interfere with your own thoughts about you. I don’t do it anymore. We all have a lot to celebrate about ourselves even if others don’t see it. Only you can give yourself the value you have. No person, achievement, goal, or event can increase your inherent worth; what you are, you already have within you. Celebrate yourself!

By Yamila García

Colors, textures, smells, and other sensory stimuli can cause me great discomfort but also a lot of joy and pleasure! The intensity with which I perceive the world around me works both ways. These past few days walking around campus were a completely pleasant experience. The sun made the autumn colors shine even brighter, and the leaves on the floor were so crunchy when I walked on them. Inside me, it was like a party. I felt the same kind of joy I feel when I receive good news or achieve something I really wanted. The joy was intense, making me walk around smiling, wanting to stay and contemplate such beauty all day.

This also happens to me with certain music. I repeat the songs over and over again because the joy feels like multicolor fireworks inside me (of course every piece has a different combination of colors, shapes, and textures). I have the feeling that I am completely full of joy and that I don’t even have “room” for a little more. This is also what happens to me with art. I feel the paintings or sculptures with all my senses. It is as if I can “live” them and be part of them. They make me smile and cry, giving me joy and happiness. Inside me, it feels colorful, restless but happy.

This intensity and this “ability” to feel with my whole being, with my body and my mind, each of the things I experience, is a double-edged sword. I enjoy simply walking among colorful trees much more than many (in fact, many don’t even notice the beauty around them), but the other side of this ability sinks me deeper than you can imagine. Negative sensations become larger and more painful than they are for other people. Everything becomes a dark tunnel with almost no light. I feel discomfort on my skin and go through the entire process with chills. During this time, I often lose perspective, the ability to be objective, and to use my past experiences to intervene in the present. Whenever I go to this side of my wide range of emotions, it feels extremely lonely and isolating, and very painful on the skin and soul.

The middle of the range is possible, but with so much intensity at the extremes, it often feels empty. Empty is not all bad; sometimes it means peace, other times boredom, but either way, it is better than the negative extreme and that is appreciated. Although it is true that it is difficult to deal with that part when you are so used to feeling so intensely.

By Yamila García

I don’t travel a lot, but I’ve been to a reasonable number of airports—awful places for a neurodivergent. The only “good” thing about them is that the experience is so exhausting that as soon as I get on the plane, I fall asleep in 2 seconds. At first glance, many of the airports I’ve been to look like inclusive places. They showcase their commitment to accessibility and making everyone comfortable, displaying logos for programs related to supporting physical and mental difficulties in travelers everywhere. However, when you try to access some of those accommodating services, you encounter even more struggles. In general, there is only 1 terminal that offers these services. If you’re not close enough, you have to traverse the entire airport from one end to the other, encountering things that make you uncomfortable along the way: noises, shiny screens, lights, confusing signs, people scattered about, everyone either making phone calls, arguing with airport staff, or simply rolling their carry-ons on the striped and slippery floor, the voices on the speakers announcing boarding for the planes, and the mingling smells of all kinds of food.

Once you arrive, you realize that the sign is larger than their genuine willingness to accommodate you. I don’t think anyone expects a spa experience at the airport, but if they’re genuinely trying to assist people, just a quiet, small room per terminal would be more than enough to help reduce stress while waiting for our flight. Just a place with less noise and softer lights could be of great assistance. It would serve as a shelter for me, a place to escape the suffocating airport environment.

Many times, I think they are more concerned about appearing inclusive than actually being inclusive. It’s not that difficult to consult the people who would use these services to determine what works for them. The problem, not only at the airports, is that many of the individuals designing “inclusive and accommodating spaces” have no understanding of how we feel because they are not actual users. Once again, it is evident that neurodivergents need to be involved in these processes and share our experiences as much as possible so that the way we live, feel, and work is not a mystery to anyone.

By Yamila García

Excuse me for not looking you in the eyes; it feels more comfortable if I don’t. And if I don’t, it’s because I know you and I trust you. That’s why I feel free to be myself, and I don’t force myself to do something that makes me uncomfortable. When it comes to people I don’t know, I know I have to make a good impression, do what is expected of me, and appear as neurotypical as possible. Otherwise, it could hurt me a lot if they see how different I am. If it is something work-related, many do not want “problems”; they want people in uniform on the outside and inside, nothing that is out of the norm. If it is something social, no one wants to be seen near someone considered strange in the eyes of the rest. However, it has happened to me that I have met people making a good impression, and then when I showed who I really am, they have stayed by my side, and in some cases, they were also trying to make a good impression. All about appearances, that’s the social norm. You have to pretend, fit in, and follow the herd, and once you come into trust with the other, you free yourself, and those who have to stay, stay.

If I ever put on the neurotypical uniform, it was because society demanded it to allow me to be part of it. It is not a free choice, no matter how much we want to stop masking. It’s simply survival. Putting on the neurotypical uniform gives us something that many of us neurodivergents lack: acceptance and a sense of belonging. Even though on the outside we may disguise ourselves a little and look like neurotypicals, on the inside we are still neurodivergent. It feels good, for a while. There is a false feeling that we can act neurotypically, and it won’t turn out that bad. However, the energy consumption of pretending to be someone else is not the same. And then, the social battery runs out sooner. I don’t want to wear the neurotypical uniform; you want me to wear it. Even if you don’t say it directly, you make it clear when you leave aside those who are different, when you look strangely at those who behave or dress differently from the pack, and when you consider everything that is different from you as a problem.

By Yamila García

I want to bend over, curl up and cry. But I can not. That is not right. I don’t want anyone to feel bad or guilty for me. I can’t stand the noises anymore. People move too much. No, it’s not too much, it’s normal. It’s just too much for me. My heart is going too fast, I feel it strong in my chest. I want to teleport home. I want to close my eyes and be there automatically. I don’t want to feel anything anymore. 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55 89… Counting still works. Breathe, breathe and don’t think. I kept counting. 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55 89… come on, keep going… 144 233 377… yeah, I can handle it now… ok, I’m breathing slower, that’s a good sign. Now act normal. My face sure looks angry. Try to talk like this so no one notices that something is happening. But I do not want to. Better stay like this just in case it happens again. Little by little… 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55 89 144… Come on, keep breathing. Surely people notice my breathing… breathe slower. My heart rate is going down a little. I know it’s going to happen, it always happens… I just don’t have to think too much. Just breathe and count… Now maybe I can talk. Try to talk.

Something like that feels like being overwhelmed for me, after enduring stimuli until I reach the limit. It’s not as easy as: “don’t pay attention to what’s happening.” Many of the things that surround us are perceived in different ways and what for some is nothing, for others is overwhelming. That’s why I write this, because it’s real for me. Because after having gone through a challenging time, if you put me in front of various stimuli, chances are I will feel that way. I know that what I write exposes me and shows my most fragile side, but I don’t care, because just as I know myself, I know that I have been able to handle things that others don’t have to face. I know that I have done a lot with more difficulties than many people and I know that the more we share how we neurodivergents perceive the world, the more education there will be about it so that we can really have a more inclusive world for us.

By Yamila García

Learning to mask helps us survive. Masking helps us hide who we truly are from the world, showing them what they want to see. Since we were kids, many of us did it naturally, often without even knowing why we did it. Over time, we learn that, no matter how different we are from everyone else, we can always put on a mask to hide who we are and how we feel. However, after many years of relying on these “masks,” we might start thinking that simply pretending can handle everything that comes our way.

We might think we’re doing fine, that people don’t notice our differences, that we’re good at masking. But we can’t avoid everything that’s happening inside us. Masking just makes us keep going and seem like everything’s okay, but deep down, there’s a fire burning. Gradually, masking gets tougher and less convincing. We keep holding on, resisting, and doing our best, but it stops working, and we’re left with no energy. Pretending has taken everything from us. We end up utterly exhausted, unable to function as we normally do.

Masking “protects” us from the outside but burns us alive inside. It leaves us alone, without the strength to do anything more than hide in some corner, some hole in our house with little light, no noise and that is small enough to feel that at least we have some control. I know many neurodivergents are trying hard not to mask now, and I totally admire them. But I never learned how to live without it. I wouldn’t even know where to start. But I think I need to unlearn this harmful habit that denies my true self and doesn’t let me take care of my needs. It leads me to drain myself, isolate myself, and forget to care for myself.

By Yamila García

All humans are full of contradictions, yet those of neurodivergents seem to be questioned. However, all these contradictions are perfectly fine. We don’t need to justify them; they are an integral part of our humanity. Trying to understand them is also not necessary, but sometimes it can help us better deal with them. Contradictions arise from many factors, one of which is the interplay between our essential nature and the experiences and adaptations we undergo throughout our lives. Nobody is 100% logical. We are humans, not robots. Therefore, we’ll always have clashing views and feelings.

I have many contradictions myself. For example, noise makes me sick; it distracts me and generates discomfort. However, I grew up in a big city, and today, being far from it, noise is also comforting in some way, reminding me of “home.” Brightness usually hurts me. Going out in the morning and seeing sunlight is painful because of my sensitivity to light. However, I find it comforting to feel that warmth on my skin. Like many neurodivergents, I also have soothing behaviors; I rub certain types of fabrics, which helps me focus and calm down. But sometimes, I do it so much that my hands hurt, and I get cramps. Being around many people makes me anxious, but at the same time, if I don’t see people, I feel isolated. As you can see, even in simple things, we can identify contradictions, but it’s important to know that we don’t have to be any other way. These contradictions are acceptable, and there doesn’t need to be a logical explanation for them.

Many times, when we ask for accommodations, people may say, ‘If you can do this, how come you can’t do that?’ For many, those two things being compared may seem the same. But for neurodivergents, the scenarios and the environment in which we have to function have a significant impact on what we can do and how we can do it, for various reasons. And yes, we also have our contradictions, just like everyone else. People often look for a ‘logical’ explanation for how we perceive the world and operate. However, it’s paradoxical to ask someone with a different view and logic to explain their perspective, knowing that it differs from ours. But also, it’s important to understand that such logic is not always necessary.

By Yamila García

Before coming to the US, I tried to do several things in many stages of my life and none of them worked out. I was frustrated but somehow accepted that my life was going to be like that. I never stopped trying though. However, when I came here, things changed. I had some tough moments, of course. But everything I was trying turned out well, and that made me scared. I was too used to dealing with adversity but never learned to deal with any kind of success. The fact that everything I was doing was going well scared me a lot, not because I was afraid that things would “go back to normal,” but because I just didn’t know how to go through it or even enjoy it.

I have wondered so many times why this happened and if the place had something to do with it. It was even funny to see how things never worked out for me. I contemplated several possible reasons, including being in survival mode or simply having fewer distractions. However, time went by and most of those options stopped making sense in my current reality. So, it was then that I realized that the only thing I had here that I never had in my country was my diagnosis as neurodivergent. I always felt different, I always knew that my differences with others went beyond the differences that are acceptable for society. However, I never had a full understanding of who I was or how and why I worked the way I did.

My journey in this country has been full of learning. I learned a lot about myself. I learned how to prioritize myself and my needs, how to better handle my struggles, and how to enhance my abilities, but most importantly, I learned how to respect my essence. I don’t force myself to do things that harm me anymore. Yes, I challenge myself as a way to keep learning and growing, but I am kind to myself. This is why I can finally say that I am proud of the person I am. Needless to say, I couldn’t have gotten to this point without knowing who I really am. Obviously, I’ve been neurodivergent my whole life but, as I didn’t know it, I was expecting myself to act as if I wasn’t. As a consequence, for years my focus and energy have been put into trying to act “normal” or do what others do, while it should have been put into whatever I was trying to do at the moment. I’m still learning how to change the focus from masking to what really matters, and so far I’ve only seen improvements in my life.

By Yamila García

A few days ago, I was registering for a new service that I wanted to access when something happened that left me wondering. The person who was registering me told me that I must access the website to complete the registration process. He told me the website, and I understood while he was saying it, but as soon as he stopped and I had to enter it on my cellphone, I couldn’t remember it. So I asked him to please repeat it to me, and while he said it, I repeated it in my head. But again, as soon as he finished saying it, I couldn’t manage to write it on my cellphone. I tried one more time, and while he said it, I simultaneously completed the sentence in my head. But once again, it was as if I were looking for something in my memory that I knew was there, and that I repeated 1 second ago, but could not access that space at the moment. The person who was with me at that moment helped me to complete the process because that could have been an endless conversation.

This has happened to me many times. I know that if I give it a minute, maybe I will be able to access it. But at the moment, I end up requiring some assistance. There is somehow a “space” between the moment in which I received information verbally and the moment in which I can use that information. I cannot access it unless I withdraw from the situation and think about it alone, without any social interaction. This happens with lectures at school too, and with regular conversations, although I learned what to say and how to act to pretend I’m following the conversation, so people don’t realize it. So this makes me think about why it is assumed that oral communication is preferred or most effective for everyone. How difficult would it be to have something written with basic instructions such as web pages, phone numbers, addresses, etc.?

Likewise, at school many times those of us who have these auditory processing difficulties find it difficult to take advantage of the lectures. The classrooms are usually very large, there are many background noises and visual stimuli that, in addition to these problems, make it even more difficult for us to concentrate on what we are listening to. However, it would help us a lot to have the recordings of the classes, or the professors’ notes at least to be able to cover what we miss at the moment. That’s why I truly appreciate the professors who see beyond their own reality and provide videos, notes, and more, recognizing that not all of us learn in the same way.

By Yamila García

My silence may seem empty, but it’s full of questions. My mom always says that when I started asking “Why?” I never stopped. There’s been a barrier between what I think and what I can say my whole life, and that makes me seem like a very different person from who I actually am. I always have questions, but very few times I am able to put them into words. I try to understand the reason for these barriers, and the first thing that comes to my mind is that I am aware that I communicate differently from the majority. Whether it’s with the choice of words I use, the intonation, or the content of what I say. In addition, I also know that I see things that others do not see and that things which are obvious to others I do not see.

The pile of questions in my head continues to grow with the passing of the years. It mutates, nourishes me with new perspectives, and pushes me to answer several by myself to satisfy my curiosity. In that search, I found a surprise that gave rise to a new (or perhaps very old) passion: Philosophy. My questions were never just based on a result or a simple explanation. I always wanted to know the essence of everything. Watching someone do something not only made me curious to know “why is this person doing this?” but also made me feel the need to know: Why do they think this way? How did they grow? In what values would they have developed to think or act in this way? How does this fact influence the life of this person? And those of those around them? My questions are deep. They not only try to understand how the people around me work but also those in the rest of the world and even existence itself. They aim to analyze and understand everything, almost like an unconscious attempt to do philosophy. I have done this since I was little; my mind never shuts up, and when I discovered what philosophy was all about, I was dazzled! I felt like it was a kind of math without numbers, and that feels like magic for me!

It’s crazy to think that I’ve been trying to avoid the humanities since I was “aware” that letters and history were not my thing. I’ve missed out on a lot of things by pigeonholing myself into the stereotype that many thought of me. I don’t have the power to change what others think of me. However, changing the way I see and talk to myself is something I can and should do. Now I know that there is a lot that I can discover, enjoy, and learn by doing so.