Growing up neurodivergent without knowing it was overwhelming. In school, I presented as a "typical girl" with untreated ADHD—talkative, daydreamy, often escaping into books and writing. I quickly learned what was expected and was rewarded for being quiet and studious. Suppressing "undesirable habits," I struggled alone with time management, organization, and constant rumination. Adults told me I could improve myself by "trying harder," not being "lazy," and avoiding the "easy way out." Being labeled "lazy" was the ultimate sin, reinforced by examples from authority figures.

For someone desperate to avoid "laziness," true rest has always been elusive. My muscles feel constantly tense, anticipating the next expectation, aware that I should always appear "happy and productive," as I was trained. Despite trying various self-care techniques and workshops throughout adulthood, quieting my mind proved challenging, and I have officially reached my limit on "trying harder". Grounding exercises offered some relief, and I turned to weed to achieve a relaxed state, but these strategies couldn't address the root of my struggles.

After 32 years of feeling like I was living on someone else's schedule and perpetually falling behind, I received an official diagnosis by my healthcare provider, and began taking medication for ADHD. Medication is helping me finally have the space in my mind to recognize my ruminating thought patterns for what they are, and stop them. While I'm still learning how to truly rest, I'm committed to understanding and improving who I am and how I function. I am not going to burn myself out to reach others' expectations again.