Growing up, I’ve always been a little off.
Besides looking kitsch, I was unconventional and my interests were niche.
Unlike my friends constrained by anxiety and fear of judgment, I always chose to do whatever I wanted first and foremost. That meant dancing in empty hallways, rapping on auditorium mics, roleplaying Bad Girls Club at recess — I was just a girl who didn’t care.
In fact (and contrary to my bad memory) my childhood friend reminded me of a story that made me remember the girl I was.
When walking in assembly-line drones — as little kids do — the teacher instructed everyone to avoid a trash can in the middle of the walkway. Unfortunately for me, my book was more important than the outside world — so I walked right into the trashcan and fell over.
It’s a funny story, no doubt, but it made me question the person I was and the person I am now.
As a kid who was always in her head: constructing, writing, thinking… my true love was anything dealing with words.
With books, I could lose myself completely in the magic of a new universe, exploring every detail as if I lived within its pages. Journaling in my glittery pink diary gave me a safe space to pour out my frustrations and reflect on myself, friends, and family. With creative writing, I could reimagine the world in my own curated reality. I never picked a favorite because all served a different purpose.
Middle school came and my interests evolved — for better or for worse.
I began slam poetry and listening to alternative artists like Hannah Diamond, Kero Kero Bonito, and Billie Eilish which fulfilled that primary school edge.
Hell, I even found a community within my best friend who showed me there’s more weirdos out there and that neurotypicals are NOT effective communicators.
With other friends, if you made a mistake, they’d become passive aggressive, huffing and puffing in a corner. Naturally, I learned that behavior too, but it never felt right.
With my Kadi, she taught me the easiest way to solve issues is to simply be transparent.
Over the course of our seven year long friendship, she’s paved the way for my understanding of how to be a good partner — in friendship, in love, in family.
Anywho, I had my fair share of anxiety during puberty because middle schoolers are certainly a tough crowd. The once “fearless Candace” began to recline into a shell of her former self because at that age, you’re given one motto, “Survive or Die Trying”.
As dramatic as that sounds, the climate of middle school was exactly like that because we had all grown sentient enough to ostracize each other.
Three years later mixed in with some Korean-style bullying and messy friendship breakups, I learned some things about myself: – I have trained myself to be observant so I can read social cues. – I have to diet myself around people who “just don’t get it”. – Something ain’t right!
When high school hit, things got even fuzzier because friends from the past wanted to distance themselves from me to fit in. In fact, one friend told me she thought I would “grow out of it”.
NEWSFLASH, I DIDN’T.
I continued to be my authentic self because I couldn’t mask all that was me and nor did I want to.
Now as an “adult”, it’s interesting because the conversation changes from introspective to how I engage with the world.
Seemingly, I have this ability to connect with anyone (that could just be the ENFP in me). I love to ask questions, make evaluations on their personality, and just simply get to know them beyond surface level.
Regardless of my ability to be a social chameleon, my favorite kinds of people have always been neurodivergent.
I have an inkling for the offbeat and the peculiar. People who engage in the world unconventionally because that has always been the base of who I am.
I love people that are not afraid to be themselves honestly and without care.
Am I an ally or am I just neurodivergent too? I don’t know, but either or, I love it.