You’re eleven, and you just spent four minutes explaining exactly why the movie’s plot doesn’t make sense, because you noticed it and you were excited and you wanted someone to notice it with you. And the table goes silent for a second, and then someone does the voice. Your voice, but faster, weirder, a little unhinged. Everyone laughs. You laugh too, because that’s what you do, and you never bring up anything you’re excited about at that table again.
If a memory like that just surfaced, keep it in mind. You’re going to need it in a minute.
This essay is for neurocomplex adults — ADHD, autistic, OCD, gifted, sensory-different, any brain that runs on a different operating system than the one most social rules were written for. If that’s you, or you’re not sure but you’ve always suspected, keep reading.
Because most neurocomplex adults don’t grow up thinking, I was bullied because I was different. They grow up thinking, people don’t like me because something is wrong with me.
That’s the version that actually gets filed away. Not “this happened to me.” Just “this is who I am.”
Part of why it gets filed wrong is that it usually wasn’t one event you could point to. There was no single afternoon you could circle on a calendar. It was smaller than that, and it was constant, spread so thin across years that no single moment felt big enough to be the reason.
It was: