Navigating Adulthood with Undiagnosed Neurodivergence
I've always known that I was a little different from other people, or whatever is considered the "norm". It was easier to navigate when I was younger because typically as a child, you're not expected to know. You're told to listen and be agreeable to those around you and sometimes, you cave in just to make life a little easier for yourself.
But as you grow older, you begin to put yourself out there in the world and figuring out how you can fit in, how much space you can take up, and how you wish to be perceived.
In college, I never felt "abnormal" because most people around me were a little different in their own ways. I could be myself and still get through it all, as long as I attended classes, submitted my work on time, and wrote exams at the end of the semester. Everything else was free reign.
However, now that I'm a working professional, I have noticed that the way I perceive things and understand the world is not only different, but is seen as inconvenient to others. There is a certain expectation you are required to meet, whether it's the way you speak, conduct yourself, or simply rest at ease, and the moment you don't, you're seen as a problem that needs to be fixed.
I am no stranger to neurodivergence; I have known that I function differently and have even been told that I'm probably on the spectrum a little. But I never heeded to it much, because a diagnosis is not going to change my experiences and will not define who I am. I will still be me at the end of it.
Now, I am sitting with my therapist every session and going through a checklist for autism and ADHD with her to see it on paper that no, I am not weird or strange or odd and I am not stupid or slow. To show that yes, I am wired differently and hence will respond to situations in a way that may not always be "corporate-friendly" but still has humanity underneath.
A part of me hates that it's come to this, that I feel the need to externally verify my experiences through clinical diagnosis. Another part of me feels a bit relieved to know that I have the option and I have a therapist who has been with me for long enough to recognise the characteristics and is trained in a manner to not pathologise but empathise.
Even though a certification means a lot to the outside world, I have been told that a diagnosis can be more of a suggestion than the hardcore truth and that is comforting. To know that I get to decide and a piece of paper doesn't seal my fate.
I initially wanted a diagnosis to prove to other people that I am not a stupid child who's stuck in school and can't understand the adult world, that it's genuinely difficult for me to do certain things and it will take me some time and effort to learn, but as I sit through the formal checklist with my therapist, I reflect on my life and how it's been. It's been nice to mull on my growth as a person, and why I do what I do, and have a space where I can explore these questions instead of simply respond to them for a percentage.
I'm not sure how I'll feel once we've gotten through the checklist. I can only hope it feels relieving, but there will always be a part of me that knows how demeaning it can feel to be labelled and typecasted for being yourself and having your self be out of the norm.
Who gets to decide the norm anyways? Many things that are seen as "normal" are that way because people have made them the standard, while humans often don't fit into neat categories. We are messy, gross, and disgusting sometimes, and that's okay. It is important to hold space for our shortcomings just as much as it is to celebrate our victories.
Perhaps this diagnosis will help me feel more accepting towards myself. I will let you know if it does.