I'd describe neurodivergence as running Windows versus Apple. Some people say it's "seeing the world differently," but I see everything like everyone else does — we all have eyes, I just interpret the code of the world in my own way.
I was in middle school during the COVID-19 pandemic, which meant unrestricted access to the internet and limitless free time. Developing an interest in researching new things was just a natural response to the conditions I was in. This is when I learned about neurodivergence.
The research felt like I was putting together the pieces of the puzzle that was my brain.
Even though I understood why I thought and felt the way I did, I never really spoke up about it. I only ever told my close friends about my neurodivergence, and I felt ashamed of it for a long time. It wasn't until my diagnosis just over a year ago that I started feeling less shame about it.
My diagnosis path was rough — I've had a therapist refuse to test me for ADHD, and I've had therapists dismiss my concerns.
Finally, after four years, I got diagnosed.
My current psychiatrist is the one who diagnosed me with ADHD and autism, which I just sum up to neurodivergence.
I'm lucky to have gotten diagnosed as early as I was. A lot of neurodivergent people assigned female at birth don't get diagnosed until much later on, sometimes not at all, according to UCLA Health. It's usually dismissed as anxiety. That's what happened to my mom, who wasn't diagnosed with ADHD until she was 48.
Getting these diagnoses helped me feel validated. It was more than the label — it was the feeling of being understood.
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Something that I enjoy about being neurodivergent is that I'm essentially a random fact generator. I get shower thoughts, but never in the shower, and then they bother me all day.
Most of my thoughts start and end at cats — I've always been known as a crazy cat person. I have three cats at home and way too many cat plushies to count. When I was younger, my parents would get me little fact booklets about cats, and I'd always read cat-related books in the library.
When people say, "you don't look autistic" or "you're just high-functioning," it feels dismissive. While still commonly used, the terms "low-functioning" and "high-functioning" are ignorant and detrimental.
Autism is a spectrum, and everyone needs support in different areas. While people call me "high-functioning," I still need support. I get overwhelmed easily; I utilize headphones; I have designated floor time and I use fidget toys.
As I accepted myself, I also found friends who were just as accepting, some even neurodivergent like me.
Figuring out who I was and finding friends and being able to embrace the fact that I process things differently has brought me to be where I am today. It's led me to The State Press; it's led me to be with the Sun Devil Marching Band and its led me to be too familiar with cat facts.
My advice to anyone who is neurodivergent: Don't be ashamed of who you are, and speak up for yourself. I wish I would've spoken up when my therapist declined to test me for ADHD, and I wish I was more open about my neurodivergence from the start.
Don't risk regret — just stand up for yourself. You know your mind better than anyone else.
Edited by Kasturi Tale, George Headley, Tiya Talwar and Sophia Braccio.
Reach the reporter at jhamil33@asu.edu and follow @jhamilton_media on X
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Jen Hamilton is a freshman studying Journalism and Mass Communications with a minor in Political Science. This is their first semester with The State Press.
