Living with neurodiversity

 "I'm normal. What's wrong with everyone else?"

My dad said this occasionally. 

If you knew my dad, you know he wasn't really "normal"- whatever that is.

He had a genetic form of dystonia that showed up in various forms in several relatives. Since it is a neuromuscular disorder,  he was obviously neurodiverse, in very visible, physical ways.

Now that I'm grown and have children of my own, I recognize that Dad's neurodiversity may have been more of a thing than I ever recognized in his lifetime. 

I don't know that any of it was troublesome or negative (as long as he was able to do things for himself)- it's just who he was. 

He got dressed in the same way every day. His shoes went on in the same order. He ate peanut butter more than the average person. He disliked every cheese except mozzarella, but he never complained about food he was served. "Thanks for the food. It was very tasty!" was his well-masked statement of gratitude when served something he secretly fought to eat. 

He was an excellent mathematician. He had crazy formulas for remembering numbers.  He had lots of shirts, but only wore a select few.

I have respect for my dad like I have for few men. But not because he was "normal."

 "Normal" has never been clearly defined to me.  Probably because I have my own set of  quirks and abnormalities. 

My undiagnosed (or self-diagnosed) stuff comes out in different ways. Some seasons are more intense than others, but I often have to consciously refrain from constantly interrupting in conversation. I have to consciously finish my sentences,  or I'll leave 3 unfinished thoughts hanging. I get mentally bored easily.  I hunt dopamine. I have to take life in small bites. I leave tasks unfinished, unless, like sentences,  I consciously finish them. 

Executive function skills are hard, hard, hard.  I can do them, but they are very hard. 

Page from Mr. Rush, by Roy Hargreaves. This picture is a map of my life,  some days.

I get "brainaches" and freeze up or melt down when overstimulated. If I'm judged on household organization,  I will get a big "she tries" (maybe "she'll try" Olympics break dancing next- she might have the same chance of success at that).  I mean- I usually know where my stuff is, so please don't shuffle my piles. So it's organized. It just looks messy. 

 I've come to understand that because of the way my brain work, I have to adjust expectations AND use different tools, to achieve any level of success with some of these things.

On the other hand, because of the way my brain soaks up and spits out information,  I can ramble off line after line of rhyming words with very little effort.  I can brainstorm big projects- I may not be the person to carry them through to completion, but I'm an expert in the Ideas Department!

My former self sought stimulation. My current self goes through seasons of constant overstimulation. It's empowering to realize the role that neurodiversity plays, because it helps me understand my freezeups and meltdowns. It's not simply emotional instability, and there are tools to help. 

Neurodiversity is the powerhouse that enables me to get things done- especially under the pressure of a good deadline!

Neurodiversity can be dysfunction. 

Neurodiversity can be dynamic.

I didn't understand these things about myself until I'm having to try to steer the boat with offspring who share my DNA. 

Raising children, with neurodiversity in the mix, is a circus. Entertaining. Exasperating. Educational. Exhausting. Exciting. Exceptional.  Twice exceptional,  actually.  

I learn about things I never wanted to need to know. Goals change. Routines evolve. Therapies help. We try to maximize our ability to function as a team. 

On a hard day, the neurodiversity has the potential to quickly explode into dysfunction. On a good day, the neurodiversity is dynamic, and we Get Things Done.

One thing is certain: my former self wanted to learn or experience something new every day. My current self lives that dream. Every day. 

Can I have a brain break now?!?