Why Can’t You Just Get Over It?

Because some of us face bigger challenges than you think.

I recognize you.

You cringe when the knife scrapes the plate or instinctively plug your ears when you hear a car alarm. I watch you search for exit signs when it’s crowded. Or there’s a distinctive new tire smell or pungent perfume that makes you feel sick.

You wake up to your children arguing, jarred from blissful sleep. Ugh. You were supposed to have a slow, predictable start to your day, but you were interrupted. Other parents roll with it when their kids disrupt them, but sometimes you can’t let it go. It feels like your world caved in by 8 am.

When you put something away, a cast iron pan almost falls on you and you lose it. Just looking at the food stacked haphazardly in the fridge has you overwhelmed. There are too many things all over the place, you grumble. Why did they put them in there like that?

Then you rearrange everything. Someone doesn’t know how to play Tetris with their groceries.

Typical people have challenges, but most people make adjustments and move on.

I have learned to adapt to change. That doesn’t mean it’s easy for me, though. It takes a lot of work to get through some moments. I get a surge of one stressor building on another. I need some semblance of predictability and order or I get agitated. I have to consciously breathe and center, making an effort to put it all in perspective.

I’m expected to just “handle it” because life throws us surprises and that’s just part of being human. I believe that story, so I’m incredibly hard on myself. I expect to be able to handle my business. But maybe I really can’t sometimes, and that’s ok.

Because I look “normal” and manage my life fairly well, few people would know I have daily challenges.

They wouldn’t know why I burst out crying when I missed my number being called at the DMV. I didn’t know because I misunderstood the screen set up and therefore didn’t see the number had passed.

I made friends while I waited, so I was distracted and couldn’t hear my number either. I was turned away, told to take another number and wait. I didn’t have to wait too long but I was livid and distraught. I didn’t even know why I was so upset until I left.

It dawned on me that no one knew I needed any accommodation. I didn’t realize it either until I missed my first chance at being served. Maybe I just so happened to get an unhelpful rude guy at that particular window. I’ll never know because I couldn’t speak up for myself that day.

What about anyone who’s blind or deaf, or someone with an auditory processing disorder (probably also me)? How do they accommodate them? I’m not sure if I saw Braille available.

Looking at a screen and hearing your number is for the privileged folks who can see and hear. It’s set up for the majority of people who can process in a neurotypical fashion. I’m apparently not one of those people. I’ve managed to adapt accordingly with most things, but I still experience limitations with others.

The lady who did help me was so kind. She was my DMV angel. I thanked her a bunch of times, through my held back tears, next to the guy who had turned me away. I left feeling grateful about what I have but dismayed that I hadn’t advocated for my needs. I was too upset to tell anyone about my experience.

It’s hard to explain what it’s like to be neurodivergent.

For a number of years, I’ve noticed that I have a unique neurological response to stimuli that doesn’t seem to bother others. My brain is wired differently than those deemed “normal”, often described these days as neurotypical.

I’ve never been tested, but I have reason to believe I’m on the autism spectrum, at least according to current knowledge and comparison to my peers. I’m highly sensitive. Loud noises and high pitched sounds or screeches set me on edge. They feel unusually intense and trigger a flight/fight reaction.

That means I can’t always simply “deal with” my challenges. Sometimes they’re insurmountable, especially when I do a lot of work trying to manage difficult things all day long. I’m exhausted.

My parents don’t know. They’ve been oblivious for years, and I surmise that they wouldn’t believe me if I told them I’m autistic. I think a lot of people in my life would never have guessed that about me.

I want people to believe me, but I can’t always count on being fully understood. I don’t care what it’s called, either. I simply know I’m different than some folks and accept that about myself.

I believe we can all overcome our challenges, whatever they may be.

I also believe everyone has their own path and deserves to be respected for their differences. You have a right to advocate for your needs. Sometimes you can’t solve it alone. My fierce independence can interfere with asking for help.

If you have an unmet need, it’s always okay to ask for help. I live with my two young children and have established boundaries to ensure I’m the best mom I can be. Those boundaries help us all. When our needs are met and we’re approached with empathy and a desire to understand, we grow and flourish.

When my struggles are validated, I feel heard, supported and understood. Unsurprisingly, I have fewer issues when I have a support system, a chosen family of friends who love me.

Surround yourself with people who want to get you, even when you may act outside the expected norm. I tend to find others who have the same energy and disposition, some who are also neurodivergent, and that’s pretty wonderful. They really get what it’s like to be me.

Find those people who resonate. Ask for help and support. It’s ok to set boundaries and take space from those who don’t want to understand. Advocate for your needs. Then relax and accept your exceptional way of being in the world.

Let’s stay in touch.You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn, as well as my personal blog at gratefulx365.wordpress.com. Feel free to submit your amazing stories to my new Medium publication, Gratefully Yours. Thanks for reading.