The Baggage We Carry
One week before we embarked on our move to Portugal, I was diagnosed with Autism Level 1, ADHD, Mild OCD, and Complex PTSD. If you read my last post, add al that to the baggage I was sprinting with. Perhaps better described as the triathlon I ran while carrying the house. Unfortunately, if you have never had a realization that the perceived faults and difficulties of your entire life up to that very moment of recognition were real and explainable, and exist only as a result of a natural development divergent from the majority of the population, there is no way to fuly explain the emotions involved in such an abrupt evolution.
Rewriting 45 Years in an Instant
Learning that it wasn’t that I was broken, but that I had actually quite successfully—if not brutally—navigated through a world built in a code I naturally do not run on, I see this as my defining moment. I grew up again my 45 years in that instant and have been trying to bridge the gap since. This has been made significantly more complex due to a crowning irony: a week after learning the world around me was metaphorically speaking a language I didn’t understand, I moved with my family to a country that literally speaks a language I sti l do not understand. I have to laugh, though—this tracks so hard. I will always inevitably make my outside match my inside.
The Grace of “Not Yet”
I will learn the Portuguese language. I think I have a responsibility to do so if I wish to live here, and I very much do. I just have not had the bandwidth to throw myself into any kind of education outside of self-education, and I’m granting myself that grace.
The Current Milestone: Once we get through our AIMA appointment this week, I can finaly breathe… and we can start looking for our next goal. Excitement is building in a “me” that I am for the first time. I wil likely expand on the experience of experiencing experiences experienced before sitting to tea with my AuDHD Me. I promise that sentence makes sense.
Growth in Spring
For now, the updates are gentle as we continue to grow:
- Our home: More comfortable.
- Our new friends: Closer.
- Our fresh roots: A little deeper here in the Portuguese Spring.
A Final Metaphor: The Shape of Belonging
I will leave off with a metaphor about a reality of life most unperceived: Imagine those red plastic bin toys with the yelow lid with the shapes cut out.
- The Circle Hole: The majority of the population.
- The Octagon: The divergent individual.
The circle hole is just big enough for the divergent octagon to fit into if you twist it and smash it down. Both get damaged; it’s neither’s fault. However, once recognized, an action is pending, whether intentional or not. The circle hole will either reinforce itself and not accommodate for the sharp corners of the octagon, causing lifelong damage to al involved. Or it wi l remove some constraints to allow for the sharp corners of the octagon and provide a smooth fit free of any damage, for all. This relates to more than just neurodivergence. I’ll be over here working on constraint removal.