Community Belonging in Uganda

A few weeks ago, I posted a piece about feeling less alone in my misdiagnosis story. I learned one of my favorite podcast hosts, Marcus Parks, had an extremely similar journey to mine of being misdiagnosed with Bipolar, suffering for years, and only recently learning of his severe ADHD diagnosis that was, for years, misread as Bipolar. That's my story, and I want to keep telling it. Here it is.

Hindsight is 20/20, or so they say. The beginnings of my journey with mental illness and misdiagnosis were scattered, with my only recently being able to see the neurodivergent roots of it all. But I want to outline the exact pieces and places where I was misread, to maybe give some hope and answers to others-- parents of neurodivergent girls, lonely teenagers, and everyone else who can relate with being squeezed into a box, feeling shamed into silence.

Before I begin, I want to give a note of hope to all my readers: Your voice matters. That was probably what I struggled with the most in that time, and afterwards-- the feeling that no one cared about how I saw the world, because they just wanted to write it off to a prescription pad and medication adjustment. I found writing and art in the darkest of times-- it saved me then, and it saves me now. 

You may have retrospect and clarity, once your brain finishes developing in your 20s and you feel like you belong to this world once again. And it's okay if it all feels so foggy right now, as if there is no possible answer, no clear path. It's okay if you feel alone and silenced. Keep making art, keep writing your truth, and be gentle with yourself. You are fighting battles in a world that doesn't understand you. Keep fighting, keep writing, and keep speaking truth. The world needs your story.

HALT! Self Care Should Be Boring

I used to hold the idea of self care in such high regard. One of my best friends, Arielle Davis (a blessed memory) and I used to makes jokes about “treat yo self”, a concept popularized by one of our favorite shows, Parks and Recreation. We’d have shopping sprees at target and late night sushi runs.

And these hold so much treasure to me now, because they are my favorite memories together. But as I have gotten older, understood my neurodivergence and my brain, and learned more and more about healthy coping mechanisms, I’ve come to the somewhat disappointing epiphany that self care should be, well, boring.

These days, self care for me is going to bed early and not playing on my phone in bed. It’s brushing my teeth and cleaning my kitchen even when I don’t feel like it. It’s choosing to eat strawberries instead of chocolate cake. It’s a dozen little things, small choices, that keep me in working condition. It's system mantainence. It's caring for my body and my mind. It is, in the truest form, self care. 

One of my favorite DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy) acronyms is HALT: hungry, angry, lonely, tired. I have been able to halt countless meltdowns simply by checking in on those four needs.