The prediction has occurred without my consent.

Exploring my neurodivergence

The details are irrelevant.

Yesterday, I noticed a sequence of events I predicted. Actions of people I predicted would happen, in the order they actually occurred.

I could have avoided the sequence by saying one thing to one person at a specific time. I made the choice not to. Sometimes I test things to see if I’m on point with my assessments. “Will x equal y?”

When I worked in restaurants, I experimented with saying things in different ways to either expedite or trip up people ordering food. I wanted optimal money and efficiency.

Restaurants were notorious for hiring low-functioning middle management. (I’ll note I also worked with a lot of incredibly bright people. Some of whom subscribe to this publication.)

I’d have to calculate how and when to say words to them so I could receive the best outcome. I monitored their memory skills and capacity.

I once worked with a woman with an amazing eye but she was a horrible listener. I calculated how to get my main points down to 45 seconds.

If it’s going to happen, I’ve already clocked it.

I have a keen ability to know exactly where in a process I will lose someone. I can tell when a person stops listening by their eyes. I can tell if information is being received and integrated.

This hyper-attunement to detail has me noticing the tiniest shifts in behavior, tone, and energy. Most people miss what I catch instantly.

People love that… except when it’s about them. Then they feel violated. They want me to turn it off.

I want to give another example of something that’s happening right now, but I created a rule, a social rule, that I don’t write about things I haven’t first brought up in conversation one-on-one. I created this rule because I noticed for a time, I was leaning on passive-aggressive writing to do my heavy lifting. People would not “hear” me, so I’d write some inflammatory garbage to “make them.”

It’s not that I don’t ask for what I need. It’s that I do it once, maybe two times. I haven’t calculated how many times the world needs to hear stuff, but Andrea expects the answer is “once.” So, naturally, it becomes a bit unnerving that others don’t get me instantly.

I remember everything. Everything. The moment, the mood, the colors, the line of text in an email, the way someone said whatever they said, it’s all filed.

I did not think of myself as neurodivergent until 2022. Then, someone suggested it as a possibility.

Lately, I’ve been watching these videos by this woman who was diagnosed with Autism and ADHD at 48, and every other video I’m like: …uh, I did that.

Memorizing whole movies word for word when I was a kid and reciting them? I did that.

Echolalia? I have that.

Being dysregulated by shifts in routine? I often have that.

Sensory issues? I sleep with a security blanket at 39.

Sniffing people. I mean…

ChatGPT also pointed out:

“Unique linguistic style: You invent metaphors, shorthand, and writing modes to communicate your reality. Neurodivergent people often find traditional language insufficient.”

I think in pictures. I think in movies.

When I try to describe something, I see a whole other thing in my brain. That’s how I can say “weight loss” and “making money” are the same thing. I can feel the energy of both, and they both feel like “flow” rather than “restriction.”

I make all my decisions by body cues. I do not logic my way into any decision. It’s “yes” or “no” and I know the feeling of each.

Elusive concepts like “intuitive eating” come easily to me.

I understand how all religions fit together.

I see how all people could easily work together to make a whole system function, and then I see their programs that block the energy flow. I thought I’d be a great coach because of this, but it turns out the speed in which people don’t see things puts me into fits of frustration.

I get frustrated walking down the sidewalk because when I turn a corner, my brain instantly knows if people halfway up the block are going to hit the same spot that I do at the same point and thus create a human traffic jam. Then, I have to adjust my pace. The prediction has occurred without my consent.

I get frustrated when someone is walking slowly, and I know the speed they’re walking will not allow me to make the light. The lights are on timers. My brain has them memorized. If they change, I’ll know.

They recently changed the flavor of Coconut LaCroix. I knew.

The Shame Factor

I have a brother who has Autism, and his life is hard.

His masking is not my masking.

I don’t want to write about his life, because it’s not my place. I think I did that way too often when he was younger, but I recognize now that his unique challenges are for him to speak about. It’s not appropriate for me to do so… I can only share my experience.

I can say that life growing up was extremely difficult and traumatic in our house. It was loud, unhinged chaos. It pushed everyone to the edge of their nervous systems.

I’ve psychologically blocked out a lot of it.

The shame factor is not “Oh, am I that?” I think one might misunderstand me, because ChatGPT did, at first.

The shame factor is that my brother has often expressed how he feels my other brother and I have so many advantages in our lives compared to him…

…and he’s right.

Everything, from love, to careers, to attractiveness, to opportunity, to the ability to travel, to money, to closeness with others. I have all of those things. I have forged my way into a life of opportunity, and I was smart enough to know I had to reject my family in many ways to get that.

Their values. Their way of functioning. That was another pattern I clocked.

“Their values and their advice will give me their life, which is miserable and limited. So I must not listen to anything they say.”

I did not grow up in an environment with the promise of prosperity. It was more like an anger-fueled pit of non-acceptance.

I was the “capable” child. I still am. 40 years old and I’m “capable.”

So capable that there’s little room to not be capable.

The shame factor isn’t “Oh, I might be neurodivergent, and what does that mean?”

It’s more aligned with “Oh, now you have that too. Of course. You who has everything.”

It’s a weird place to be.