Writing with Authenticity: Embracing My Neurodiverse Voice

by Jessica Jones

In this post, I'm sharing a side of myself that's not often seen beyond the occasional Instagram reel I share related to neurodivergence, which are always cushioned with humor to avoid delving too deep. But here, I'm pulling back the curtain on my more introspective thoughts.

Throughout my life, I've maintained an air of indifference towards others' opinions, a coping mechanism developed in response to the constant pain of social rejection in my formative years. This facade, however, masks a deeper, more intricate narrative, particularly after my late diagnoses of ADHD and ASD.

The ADHD diagnosis was a turning point for me, but it didn't fully clarify the persistent sense of alienation I felt. While I didn't directly imitate others, I certainly studied their behaviors and social cues closely, as a way to navigate social interactions and avoid rejection. Throughout my childhood, I had a few friends, but they each belonged to different social circles. I was never really a part of any one group, always on the periphery. This pattern of fleeting connections and not quite fitting in continued into my adult life, manifesting especially in romantic relationships, where each felt like a new rulebook to decipher.

My struggles with self-control and alcohol in social settings between the ages of 17 and 20 reflect a common challenge among both undiagnosed neurodivergent individuals and college students in general. Outwardly, I assumed the role of the 'life of the party', a part that, as a college student, didn’t seem too out of place. However, internally, it was a different story; I was wrestling with profound feelings of loneliness and dissatisfaction. Alcohol for me was never about enjoyment; it served as a crutch to numb social anxieties and to force a fit into settings where I felt alien. At that time, I simply lacked the tools and understanding necessary to handle these situations in a healthier manner.

In my early twenties, post college, I embraced the wonderful world of solitude, which surprisingly, brought me an immense sense of peace and fulfillment. Engaging in solo activities and vacations turned out to be incredibly liberating. There’s an unmatched beauty in having the freedom to explore, dine, or relax on a beach on my own terms. Ironically, the loneliest I ever felt was during the times I constantly surrounded myself with others. In contrast, being alone opened up a world where I could truly appreciate and enjoy my own company, finding a contentment and connection with myself that I never experienced in the hustle of crowded, noisy environments.

In the world of writing, I've always found my truest form of expression, a space where I could be genuinely myself. After years of dedication, I finally held a completed draft in my hands. It was more than just words on a page – it was a piece of me. The encouragement I received from an agent I met through a publishing event sent me soaring, filling me with hope that everything was falling into place. However, this buoyant feeling came crashing down during a virtual meeting with a younger-than-me editor. Her dismissive remarks, 'This isn't how people talk; this isn't how people think,' struck a chord that resonated painfully with me. It felt intensely personal, as though she was critiquing not just my writing but my very way of thinking.

The fallout from that meeting was profound. I found myself transported back to the uncertainties of being 13, grappling with a desperate need to fit in but not understanding what I was doing wrong. In an attempt to conform to her perspective, I dismantled my manuscript, erasing large portions of my work. Nearly two-thirds of my draft was scrapped, a disheartening process that felt like erasing parts of my identity. This act of self-editing was so demoralizing that I didn't write again for over a year. The rejection and self-doubt stifled my creative spark, leaving me to question my place in the literary world.

This period of uncertainty predated the clarity I gained from discovering my ASD diagnosis. Before this insight, each critique felt like an affirmation of my deepest insecurities — that I was inherently different and didn't fit the mold. Now, with the knowledge of my neurodivergence, I view my unique voice through a new lens. It's not a flaw but a strength, a distinctive narrative style that I'm gradually learning to embrace. My writing journey has transformed into a path of self-acceptance, a way to share how I uniquely experience and interpret the world, underscoring the power and beauty of our differences.

In wrapping up, I just want to say thanks for being a part of this journey with me. It's not always easy to share these personal experiences, but it's in these moments of vulnerability that we truly connect as humans.

I'm excited to share that I've started writing again, bit by bit, and I'm working on believing in myself once more. Who knows, maybe someday there'll be another finished draft that I can wholeheartedly believe in. Thanks for being a part of this adventure, and let's keep celebrating our unique perspectives, making the world a more interesting place together.

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