Neurodiversity and Misunderstanding.

I am neurodivergent.

Not ugly, not fat,

not trapped in unconventional beauty—

just neurodivergent, and only that.

Because what people don’t see,

what they fail to understand,

is that even on the good end of beauty,

you can still be split, still be different.

____

A few years ago, I would have never accepted this,

I was many things:

Evil, wicked, shy, mean, cruel, selfish, ugly.

Being African, all these words

are tied to one thing, one thought.

No visible disability? Then no reason to be—

To act like this, be perceived like this.

_____

It was simply unacceptable.

I wasn’t mad, at least not visibly.

So it was clear-headed evil, they concluded,

and the whispers of spirits filled the gaps in their logic.

____

Maybe I was under some influence,

but I never knew which spirit they spoke of—

How could I, when I carried two within me?

____

One, loving, empathetic, hardworking to the point of pain.

The other, sudden and sharp,

arriving in quiet moments or wild storms,

neither provoked nor understood.

Not evil…..just misunderstood.

____

but he’s someone else, or maybe the same—

I’m not sure.

They both share this body like two heads on a single frame,

taking turns at the wheel, each waiting their time.

_____

The second one was in control more often,

stern but weak, vulnerable and reactive.

And the first one? I wonder—

Was it his reflection?

Or were they the same face,

just turned in different lights?

____

It doesn’t matter.

Whatever the second does,

the world calls me by it.

It washes away the good,

the kindness I know I hold inside.

Isn’t that how it goes?

They say the evil always outshines the light.

____

In Africa, I was simply a cursed soul.

They told me so,

pointed their fingers and prayers at me,

singling me out from my siblings

for deliverance after deliverance.

I remember the nights of Psalms,

one chapter each evening—

a rhythm I still carry with me.

though the confusion never left.

____

I was wise enough to know,

but foolish enough to remain still.

Foolish to love so deeply in silence

yet do nothing to show it.

What is this weakness?

What is this difference?

____

Every time I tried to step out,

pain followed like a shadow.

My mind would close in on me,

and I’d shrink again,

wondering why, wondering why.

wondering why i was different.

____

I shared the stories, the wild and dark ones,

but no one could relate—

No one could tell me my feelings were valid,

were real, worthy, lovable

even in their chaos.

____

Why did I react this way?

Why the constant contrast?

How could I be called wicked….

when I carried a river of love within me,

bubbling under the surface,

but blocked,

held back by walls I never built?……

____

Why does my mind go numb in the presence of others?

The same mind that bursts

with thoughts, ideas and love in solitude,

but falls silent when I need it the most.

____

It’s foolish,

this mind of mine—

wise enough to know better, but too silent to act.

Foolish to love so deeply in the dark, but too afraid to show it.

What is this weakness,

this fragility that feels like a flaw?

____

Trauma or the way i am wired

I never fully understand

____

Now I’m 18, almost 19.

I’m reading a book

by a girl like me,

neurodivergent too,

and for the first time, I feel seen.

I cried during the introduction,

tears of recognition,

tears of knowing I wasn’t alone.

____

But adulthood looms,

and in this stage of life,

I drown in self-help books,

trying to prove to myself that I’ll become someone.

Yet, I wasn’t helping myself—

____

I was helping others,

giving pieces of my wisdom

to friends, to family,

while ignoring my own needs.

____

I never knew myself.

How could I?

My mind shifts and changes,

slipping out of my control.

I complained of others not being there,

but I was never there for me either.

___

My mind shifts and changes as it pleases,

leaving me just the consciousness,

watching, wondering, detached.

I was never in control of the body I inhabit,

never briefed on how to be whole.

never taught how to steer the ship that is my body,

my life.

____

I never did wrong.

Neurodivergency doesn’t make you do wrong.

It makes you freeze.

In moments when others would act,

I spiral, doing nothing

because doing nothing is safer than risking everything.

I’d rather stop than stumble,

rather be silent than be misunderstood and mumble.

____

Yet here I am,

writing these words, still trying to understand

this shifting, spiraling self, still trying to be seen

through the lens of my own mind.

To be truly seen by me—

that is what i strive towards now,

no more chasing answers from others.