For me and other neurodivergent people, there is a difference between “making a move” and “moving.” On the outside, you would think they were the same thing, but they aren’t.
What’s the difference? I define “making a move” as moving from one action to the next, while “moving” is the actual effort required to make the individual actions possible.
The average neurotypical person doesn’t necessarily have to consider what it takes to move from one place to another. They can access the energy needed for the task while simultaneously getting used to the environment where it is taking place.
Imagine you run out of food and have to go to the grocery store. You know what you want, so you simply pick it up and go to the checkout counter.
For me, I have consciously learned or memorized the same primary questions for every situation, such as what, who, when, where, why, and how. Answering these questions is an uphill challenge and a struggle to learn.
To navigate the outside world, I have to not only consciously choose every action, but emotionally regulate myself in the process. I do all this while praying I don’t get overloaded for the day.
I also think about what I need, go to the grocery store, and buy the food. However, there are many extra steps.
I have the idea to go to the store, but I will need to make a list–not just a grocery list. Every transition from one place to the next takes adapting.
I move from my house to the car to the store. Every step takes mental effort to remind myself to move.
I enter the store with bright lights, colors, and distractions. These all cause physical discomfort and a headache without my sunglasses. I can barely see what I want because of all the options and people moving. If it is a place I am used to, I move with less difficulty due to my repetitive routine.
While going to get my “safe foods,” my working memory might go out, forcing me to remember what I was getting in the first place. I brought my list but forgot I had it.
Then, after checking my cart about twenty times, I head to the checkout counter. I have to consciously remember to scan and bag the items individually and pay with the right card.
Every step requires effort and energy. It’s not easy or natural. I must consciously choose every action; otherwise, I will just stand there because I have not become comfortable with or memorized the place.
What might seem like an everyday action for you is a workout for others. It only approximates an everyday action for me from a strict routine and continually repeating the same process.
I separate actions from movement in my mind. For every idea about doing something, I consider the steps it will take.
I consider my energy level, the number of transitions I need to complete the task, and the number of people I will have to compete with.
How bright will the lights be, and how loud is the music? What do I need to do to make it happen?
From the outside, these actions look simple. But for others like me, it takes a lot of effort.
I am constantly overwhelmed by a stream of ideas I can’t quite keep up with. The world moves too fast. I have the motivation to work with it, yet I still fail.
I have expected myself to function in a different capacity of some idealized norm, thinking I should have it all together. I’m supposed to have success, relationships, and constant happiness.
Now, that’s not the case. Going to the grocery store is a struggle, so how in the world am I supposed to reach it all? This is not a moment of resignation but realizing a fundamental part of being a person. The answer is–I don’t know.
I don’t know everything. I don’t have answers. I don’t know what’s coming, and that terrifies me. There will be things I miss, people who pass me by, and opportunities I don’t take. The only thing I can choose is to be present moment by moment.
Out of all my fears and triumphs, having compassion for myself is the hardest. This requires accepting myself for who I am, not who I pretend to be.
From this place of acceptance, the lives around me are changing. Not everyone will love or be comfortable with me, and that’s okay.
The sting of rejection is felt less and less as I understand there is no “why.” We all have different lifestyles and ways of being, with the hope of surviving this overwhelming world.
A current Master of Divinity student at Campbell University Divinity School.
