Here, I aim to share supportive, informative, and personal reflections on neurodivergence and my life experiences and wonderings in general. My intention is to create a reflective space where you can gently explore what neurodivergence means for you.
You might be here because you’re neurodivergent yourself or exploring the possibility of being neurodivergent and want to feel understood, empowered, and less alone. Or you may be reading to better understand a partner, family member, or friend who is neurodivergent, hoping to support them with more compassion and clarity.
Wherever you’re coming from, you’re welcome here. This blog is a space for reflecting, learning, grounding, and connection.
I’ve been thinking about writing a blog about ableism because I often talk about it indirectly without naming it. Yet ableism is everywhere. It is woven into our culture, our families, our institutions, and often into the way we think and feel about ourselves (internalised ableism).
The balloon metaphor can be used for any feeling that we don’t allow ourselves to feel or process. I’ll use anger as an example.
I’ve been reflecting on an experience from a recent trip to Thailand—my first long-haul flight—and how it’s shaped my understanding of processing, not processing (avoidance), and the relationship between wellness and illness.
I decided to write this blog post about books that have helped me on my journey of self-discovery, self-love, and self-healing. Although this may sound like a personal story, I believe that in life nothing is ever only for one person. How I treat and see myself affects how I see and treat others; and the same is true in the opposite direction.
An autistic reflection on identity, object impermanence, bottom-up thinking, and learning to trust my way of processing and knowing.
For a long time, I thought I was a slow processor. Now I realise I'm not slower: I'm different. My processing often starts with other people. I notice their needs, imagine how they might be feeling, and instinctively move towards meeting those needs. I agree to things from that place. Only later (sometimes much later) do I connect with my own needs and realise I didn’t factor myself in at all.
Years ago, when I was struggling to understand why I felt so stuck in my job, a friend asked me a question that shook my entire reality: “Do you love your job? Or do you want to love it?”
The difference between an excuse and a reason is often a matter of perspective. When I feel safe enough to approach someone with curiosity and empathy, I’m more likely to hear reasons.When I feel threatened and I (maybe unconsciously) feel I need to protect myself, I’m more likely to hear excuses.
I’ve always preferred heat to cold. I never really understood why. Over time I’ve noticed that in summer, my body relaxes, and in winter, it tenses.
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