Understanding my neurodivergent mind has helped me soften the edges of internal pain and to move from hopelessness to Hope. I endeavor in my writings to share both the “highs and the lows” of human experience. I am called to speak about the deep lows I faced when I did not seek help for my mental health. I also discuss the high points of getting well. This post speaks about death and suicide, this is a trigger warning.

Is something Wrong with me?

There have been many times throughout my life where not knowing what was “wrong with me” lead me into either depression or hopelessness. Of course I did not know that then. I only knew that I wanted or even needed to escape my reality. I realize now there was a deep inner knowing that something was different and therefore I buried it even further.

Often the resolve to escape altogether pressed into my thoughts. For me escape via substances was often sufficient. It wasn’t until the last years of my drinking that the idea of escaping via death became an option. Shockingly to me during my recent autistic burnout that led to my diagnosis, the thoughts of life being more than I could handle came up again. But how could this be so when recovery was going so well? These are questions that led me to seeking more help outside of addiction recovery.

The Damage of Not Knowing One’s Truth

Although I was unaware of it, I was incurring incredible damage to myself in being undiagnosed. I did not understand that my experience with the internal and external environment as a neurodivergent person was different, but ultimately OK. The deep-seated need to assimilate overpowered the inquiry that could have allowed me to understand myself better. After all, who wants to be different? It certainly was not valued in the 1980-90’s. Diversity was not celebrated in any way then.

Knowing now that I am not alone has removed some of the damaging effects of isolation. During times of depression and anxiety, especially during the drinking years, isolation seemed to make life manageable. Maybe it was a false illusion of control. Being other others that struggle in a similar has soothing effects. It doesn’t change the difficulty, but the heart opens to hope when you can share experiences. While still unpleasant it becomes possible to live through it because others have. The challenge for me is that I often feel a lack of safety in groups of others, or even in individual interactions. So I have to push myself to seek companionship. I seek the balance every day of the at times contradictory medicine required for survival. After all, we are mammals and co-regulation is imperative.

Healing within Community

One of the most effective elements of surviving and recovering from anything is support from those who can relate to your situation.

When I discovered other neurodivergent people feel the same things I do, my difficulties felt lighter. As if this burden could somehow be carried by the collective. This realization lessened the harshness of my experiences. For me, knowing that I am not alone has become vital. It brought me from the brink of hopelessness. I understood that other people have made it through these dark parts. They made it through alive and it seemed for those who faced their fears, they were thriving in ways that seemed unattainable for me. This is where my Hope often is derived from, from others.

The more that I understand the repercussions of undiagnosed autism the deadly effects on the community are revealed. The statistics vary country to county and mostly underestimate that actual number of suicidal tendencies. But the common thread is how deadly not receiving help can be. Anywhere in the world the precedence of suicidality in undiagnosed autistics is much higher than neurotypicals. One study found that of people who had succumbed to suicidal ideation, 41% showed potential for autism, but were undiagnosed. I can relate to this. 

It is today, the anniversary of my father’s death that I happen to be reflecting on hopelessness and suicide. My family has for generations, my father included, had undiagnosed mental health issues. I realize now my father was potentially autistic himself. It is part of my family history. My father and many of my relatives chose the substance solution to quiet the mind and to lessen the pain. It hits very close to home for me that a lack of neurodivergent acknowledgment and diagnosis has the potential to have deadly effects.

Suffering in Silence

What occurs to me now looking back at my life, and my father‘s, is the theme of suffering in silence. Often times people that have suicidal ideation walk with this heaviness in them all the time. Sometimes we bury it to more or less successful degrees. But sometimes for some of us, it’s always there. We meditate, we go to yoga, we take medication, we go to therapy. We do everything that we can to try to “fix” this thing that’s inside us. But it has been my experience that I cannot fix something until I know what I’m dealing with.

Finding a Solution

It breaks my heart that we can live in pain for so long in this body and mind. At times feeling trapped with no idea that being different is the key to understanding the solutions. The pervasive feelings that overpowered my mind when I did not understand my true nature and only tried to escape it were harmful. They would only get darker and deeper until desperation brought me to continue seeking. The solutions in my life now are not of escape, numbing or of death, but rooted in love and self-acceptance.

Finding this solution for me has given me a second life, a rebirth. It is the reason that I want to continue sharing my story. My life changed when I started to understand my neurodiverse mind. Honestly, it has been hard post-diagnosis. If you read anything I have written, you will see that. It hit me like a train. Yet while this new chapter has been difficult turning this page has also been a most beautiful experience. All at the same time. Life is like that, when there is Hope and Faith. The difficult truth about ourselves can be received as a gift. It’s important that I share the changes that have taken place for me. When I was unwell it was those who I could deeply relate to that helped save me. Those people bravely shared their stories and now it is my turn. For every person that actually follows through with attempting to take their own life, or succeeding, there are so many more that suffer in silence.

It occurs to me at this age, at this point in my life, that we only have this one experience in existence, that we are conscious of at least. This life right now. The work is to navigate through what we have come here with. I don’t want to spend my life hiding or running, planning my escape. Whether temporary or permanent. I want to live vastly now. I want to be healthy. This need not be anyone’s goal but mine. But I believe everybody deserves that chance.

The Hope that Grows

For me that chance came when my truth was revealed to me first about my alcoholism. With time and treatment deep inner child work emerged, that is still on-going. Generational trauma recovery led its way to identifying, understanding and working with my autism. Not against it. This will be a lifelong journey. The truth is, I love who I am. I love the neurodivergent community that I am getting to know more and more. I believe that we will continue to emerge as WE create spaces that are safe and welcoming for everyone.

A tiny light at the end of a very dark tunnel was what Hope started to look like for me. It showed up, not exactly as Hope at first, but with a gentle turning away from the darkness I was existing in. It came incrementally as I started to talk about what I was going through. The discoveries that were made in community with others is what cracked open my heart. I now journey with people from different walks of life, but the common thread is healing through spirituality in community.

I am not hopeless anymore. I have a deep spiritual connection that keeps my heart full of Love, even on the hard days. That is a reality that was hard won. I put effort into maintaining a healthy relationship with God. Which is one of the terms I use for the Creative Forces behind all life. I have worked very hard on my recovery and seeking a spiritual life. To heal from trauma and to break these chains of addiction.

But I am sad. I am filled with sadness that my father did not find the respite that I have in knowing oneself. I am sad that others continue to die from undiagnosed disabilities they were born with but not accepted for. That friends, known or unknown, continue to die from addiction. The sadness is balanced with Love and doing my small part in healing. I believe if we all could do our healing work, we would find neighbors where enemies once were, and compassion would grow.

I truly hope that we can become more open and accepting. So that people do not suffer in silence. The dark truth is much of the world is suffering. Turning to face it with bravery was my only way out. My life is not perfect, but I am alive, and I love all my feelings. Not just the good ones anymore. I don’t just live for the highs anymore. I seek out the gentle waves of life, to ride them knowing that ups & downs are part of the gift of living.

“Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing”

-Pema Chödrön

My prayer is if you’re reading this and have questions about mental health, neurodivergence or possible addiction, please reach out. Help is available. To be seen and heard, while scary at times, is a human need. I know that we can foster that together.

If you are experiencing thoughts of self-harm or suicidal ideation, you are not alone. But please seek help. Call Crisis Services in your area or 911 if you are in crisis.

In loving memory of my father.

With love and a full heart,

Vanessa

01/04/2025