\u26a0\ufe0fTrigger warning: This story mentions suicidal thoughts, self-harm, and emotional overwhelm. If you are not in the right headspace to read that today, please take care of yourself first. If you\u2019re struggling, please reach out to someone you trust or a mental health professional.<\/p>\n
There were years\u2014many long and heavy years\u2014when waking up felt like a punishment. What made it confusing was that, from the outside, things looked \u201cnormal\u201d. My grades were usually quite good, I always had people to work with on assignments, and I certainly wasn\u2019t rejected by everyone. But at the same time, I was often bullied. Not brutally, but consistently enough to remind me I was \u201cdifferent\u201d. My skin and body, my hair, my voice, and even my expressions were always up for comment. People told me I looked too somber (resting b!*#$ face was already a thing, unfortunately), or too surprised. It was subtle enough that life appeared fine, yet constant enough that I never felt like I truly belonged anywhere. It created this quiet ache\u2014this feeling that everyone else got the manual for being human\u2026 except me.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t have the language or understanding for it then, but I lived in a constant state of fear and overwhelm. It felt like I was always bracing for something, like I couldn\u2019t do or get anything right; friendships slipped away, relationships didn\u2019t last, and I could never keep up with the world or with the expectations placed on me\u2014not at home, not at school, not socially, and certainly not emotionally. And because I didn\u2019t know why I was always struggling, I assumed the problem had to be me. That something was wrong with me for even feeling this way.<\/p>\n
My environment slowly taught me to believe that my pain meant I was ungrateful, spoiled, or broken. And when I talked about the things I sensed or saw, especially the spiritual things, I was told I might be possessed. Instead of a psychologist, I was taken to a priest. It made me feel like I wasn\u2019t safe with others. But I wasn\u2019t safe alone either. The overwhelm was constant and lived in my mind and my body, and it devoured my nervous system. I started to hurt myself because I didn\u2019t know what else to do with the pain. And the truth is, suicidal thoughts didn\u2019t feel like wanting to die. They felt like not knowing how to keep living.<\/p>\n
The pain and suffering felt like:<\/p>\n
When I look back now, I realize I wasn\u2019t trying to escape life\u2026 I was trying to escape the overwhelm. I wasn\u2019t broken, I was drowning; and nobody could see it. All they saw was a young girl seeking attention when \u201cnothing was wrong\u201d. But the truth is that everything was wrong, they just couldn\u2019t see it from the outside or understand it when I tried to explain it<\/p>\n
When I finally learned I\u2019m autistic\u2014and combined that with knowing I also have ADHD and dyslexia\u2014everything clicked. For the first time in my life, the last 30-ish years actually made sense. It wasn\u2019t that I was failing at life. It was that I was trying to live a neurodivergent life without knowing I was actually neurodivergent. I had been drowning without a name for the body of water.<\/p>\n
Diagnosis didn\u2019t magically fix everything, but it provided me with a map. It gave me direction and a way to navigate life without blaming or shaming myself.<\/p>\n
I now understood:<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t lazy, dramatic, tired, or weak. I was in an autistic burnout: a constant state of fight or flight that no amount of sleep or \u201cpositive thinking\u201d could solve.<\/p>\n
Learning I was autistic didn\u2019t just explain the past\u2026 It set me free from it.<\/p>\n
Understanding my diagnosis didn\u2019t instantly make life easier, but it gave me something I didn\u2019t have before: permission<\/p>\n
Permission to rest. Slowly, I began rebuilding my life in a way that worked for my brain, my body, and my nervous system, and not the version of me everyone else expected. I started to notice things I had ignored for years: how crowds drained me within minutes, how much trauma my body had held onto, how certain textures give me the ick, and how masking had become automatic, even when I was alone.<\/p>\n With the help of my doctor, my neuropsychologist, and the few people close to me, I began making changes. I literally moved to an environment that allowed me to breathe, even though it was triggering as f*ck at first. Because suddenly I was alone and had to face myself in every meal, every bill, every mirror, every responsibility, every job, every errand, every single overstimulating moment.<\/p>\n But that also meant that I could move at my own pace: sleep when I needed, eat when and what my body asked for, take breaks without guilt, and create routines that nourished me instead of breaking me.<\/p>\n I learned the concept and power of slow living; to feel the morning sun on my skin, to move my body every day, to sip tea while listening to the birds, to take long pauses, to allow myself to dance in the rain, and to sit with myself, in silence. And somewhere between the quiet mornings, the alone time, and the unlearning of decades of people-pleasing\u2026 It hit me:<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not difficult. I\u2019m not dramatic. I\u2019m not too much.<\/strong><\/em> And just like that, for the first time in my life, solitude didn\u2019t feel like punishment. It felt like home<\/em>.<\/p>\n Survival used to feel like something I did by accident, but now it feels like a choice I make with my whole chest. Waking up no longer feels like a punishment or a chore. Now it feels like an opportunity:<\/p>\n Another chance to breathe. I know it might sound crazy, but once I understood my neurodivergency, I stopped fighting myself. I stopped trying to fit into shapes and places that were never meant for me. And the more I allowed myself to be different, the more I began to fall in love with being alive.<\/p>\n I love exploring new ideas. I love writing\u2014like this moment right now. I love watching TV and letting my brain rest (and sometimes even rot). I love being alone without feeling lonely. I love doing nothing sometimes and not feeling guilty about it. I love feeling connected to Spirit and embracing parts of myself I used to be scared of. I love using art to release old pain\u2014through poetry, performance, film or drawing\u2014and knowing that my story might help someone else feel less alone. Maybe even seen.<\/p>\n I still struggle sometimes, especially with things like community. Autistic burnout doesn\u2019t disappear overnight, and connection requires time and presence; two things I\u2019m still learning to give to myself gently.<\/p>\n Most of my energy these days goes into sustaining myself; watering my own soil, fertilizing my own garden, harvesting my own fruit. And for the first time ever\u2026 That feels like enough.<\/p>\n I can look in the mirror and say, \u201cHey Tit, I love you, and it\u2019s so good to see you today!\u201d No matter what I look like. No matter what I did or didn\u2019t accomplish.<\/p>\n Life feels meaningful now because it\u2019s no longer full of \u201cmusts\u201d, it\u2019s now full of wants. Full of desire, softness, and a future I genuinely want to be here for. Whatever it looks like.<\/p>\n Sometimes I look back at the younger versions of me\u2014Lil\u2019 Titi (which would\u2019ve been a dope rap name, if you ask me)\u2014 and all I want to do is hug her and say, \u201cI\u2019m sorry, dushi. You didn\u2019t deserve any of that, but I\u2019m glad you stuck around.\u201d Because the person I am today is someone you wouldn\u2019t even recognize, but you\u2019d be proud to meet.<\/p>\n If you\u2019re reading this and any part of my story sounds familiar\u2014the overwhelm, the confusion, the loneliness, the feeling that something is \u201cwrong\u201d with you\u2014I want you to know this:<\/p>\n There is nothing<\/em> wrong with your existence. You might just be overwhelmed. And you deserve support, compassion, and someone who listens. You deserve the chance to understand your own mind, not fight against it.<\/p>\n If you\u2019re unsure where to start, talk to someone you trust. This can be a friend, a teacher, a coach, a counselor, or a parent if it feels safe. If you\u2019re a minor, let an adult know that you need help; even if it feels scary, even if you worry you\u2019ll upset them. And if the adults around you don\u2019t understand right away? It doesn\u2019t mean your pain isn\u2019t real. It means you need someone who can understand\u2014your general practitioner (huisarts), therapist, school counselor, or another person who can guide you toward the right support. And if you need to call 911 because you\u2019re no longer safe with your thoughts or feel like you can\u2019t handle it on your own anymore: DO IT!<\/p>\n You deserve answers. You deserve care. But most of all: You deserve to stay.<\/p>\n You are needed. You matter. Trust me, you really do, you just have to stick around long enough to believe me \ud83d\ude09<\/p>\n \u2014<\/p>\n This article was written by Tittel Del Mar, a multidisciplinary artist and storyteller from Cura\u00e7ao who writes and creates work about neurodivergence, identity, the beauty in the mundane, softness & healing, and is still learning to love her wonderfully wired brain.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" How understanding my brain helped me stop feeling broken and start wanting to be alive<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":1021,"template":"","class_list":["post-1285","experience_of_others","type-experience_of_others","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/safeplace4.me\/pap-cw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/experience_of_others\/1285","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/safeplace4.me\/pap-cw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/experience_of_others"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/safeplace4.me\/pap-cw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/experience_of_others"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/safeplace4.me\/pap-cw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1021"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/safeplace4.me\/pap-cw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1285"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/em>Permission to say no<\/em>.
\nPermission to exist<\/em>.<\/p>\n
\nI\u2019m simply\u2026 Different. And I am allowed to be!<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\nWhy I\u2019m glad I failed stayed<\/h2>\n
\nTo feel the wind on my face.
\nTo give and receive love.
\nTo move my body.
\nTo make art.
\nTo rest.
\nTo simply be.<\/p>\nNo, it\u2019s not all daisies and sunshine\u2026<\/h2>\n
What I want you to know. Yes, YOU!<\/h2>\n
\nYou are not dramatic.
\nYou are not weak.
\nYou are not too much.
\nYou are not attention-seeking.
\nYou are not broken.<\/p>\n
\nYou might just be misunderstood.
\nYou might just be\u2026 different, and not yet have the language for it.<\/p>\n