Those of you who know me in real life know that I’m not the best speaker. In fact, I’m awful at speaking without a script or reading aloud something in front of me! I stumble over my words, use “uh” and “um” too much, stop and restart my sentence multiple times, and even stutter from time to time. And when I get frustrated or emotional while speaking, it’s even harder because my mind just completely shuts down, which gets me even more frustrated or upset because now I can’t even think straight, much less form a coherent sentence. So I’ve struggled with expressing myself verbally. Whether it’s sharing my opinion and defending it, talking about my feelings, or explaining my thoughts, I’ve always had a difficult time.

When I had something I wanted to say but was having trouble putting it into words, I turned to writing. When I write, whatever mental block prevents me from articulating myself well in speaking just disappears. I find a flow, and the words just come gushing out of me onto the page. Almost like I’ve been possessed by some spirit or higher entity that’s giving me just the right words to say. I don’t really know how else to describe it. But my writing ability has been able to solve a lot of problems in my life that I couldn’t solve with my tongue. It showed my teachers that I did, in fact, understand the material (more deeply than they thought I did, actually) and was a lot more intelligent than I appeared. And it let me share my thoughts and feelings with my parents when I was struggling to find the right words to say what was on my mind. I was even able to solve my own problems at times simply by journaling in a document on Google Docs and just writing out whatever came out of my head. For me, writing is freedom. It liberates me from whatever causes me to struggle with speech, gets me out of my head, and releases the ideas and thoughts I have lingering inside.

My LSN (low support needs) autism and ADHD affect my life in more ways than just speaking. I’ve spent my whole life feeling trapped between two different worlds. On one hand, I’m so independent and well-adjusted that I can present as neurotypical around strangers in public. I also don’t have the same struggles other neurodivergents may have, such as understanding sarcasm and idioms, or adaptability. On the other hand, there are certain aspects of my autism/ADHD that I do struggle with or can’t hide. My speaking struggles, talking too loud, stimming and fidgeting, inability to maintain eye contact, sensory issues, and other quirks I have make it obvious to anyone paying attention that I’m neurodivergent. So I wound up feeling trapped in-between the neurodivergent world and the neurotypical world because I was too “high-functioning” to really fit in with other neurodivergents, and the supports that were offered by neurodivergent groups often didn’t work for me. But I was also too “weird” to belong with my neurotypical peers. So I struggled (and still do!) to make friends and find people I could relate to. And it didn’t help that I was the only autistic one in my entire family.

The experiences I’ve had growing up an LSN neurodivergent combined with my writing talent gave my family and I an idea. I’ve always been passionate about making the world a better place, and dreamed of leaving behind a better world than the one I entered. My background has given me a unique perspective and stories to tell, and my writing skills the perfect medium to tell it. And thanks to modern technology, it’s easy to share my writing with the world. Plus I was reaching my final straw with a terrible job that was damaging my mental health and self-esteem.

So I quit my job and decided to try launching a blog! I’m planning to write about my life, my past, my thoughts and experiences, and other topics related to being a neurodivergent in this modern world. My primary goal is to reach other neurodivergents out there and show them that they’re not alone as they feel. That there’s someone out there who really gets them, because I’ve been through and continue to go through the same things they do. My hope is that this blog will be foundation to build a community of other neurodivergents to find and connect with each other, and have a space where they’re free to be themselves with no fear of judgment or exclusion. Where they can make lasting friendships and find support that actually works for them. The kinds of things I wish I’d had growing up and wish I had now. And then I also want to use this blog to help the loved ones of neurodivergents. By explaining how my mind works, how I see things, and the things I struggle with and succeed at, I’m hoping to help neurotypical family members/caregivers understand what being neurodivergent is like, and the best ways to help and support their loved one without accidentally causing harm.

Why The Wildflower Mind? When I was brainstorming ideas for my blog, I wanted something somewhat poetic and evocative of nature. As a writer and poet, I wanted something beautiful and memorable to catch the attention of people scrolling by. And growing up surrounded by forests, I’ve always loved nature, so I wanted to incorporate that in my blog name. When I was trying to come up with ideas, I thought about wildflowers. They’re just as beautiful as garden flowers, are found all over the world, and are necessary for the survival of life on our planet. They’re also hardier than garden flowers, able to adapt and survive in almost any environment. Yet they’re overlooked by so many, or regarded as weeds. Neurodivergence is similar, in a way. We’re just as special, populous, and necessary as neurotypicals, and in some ways even more special! Our ability to learn to adapt and survive in a world not built for us, for example. Yet throughout history and even today, neurodivergents are overlooked or even looked down on. Being neurodivergent in a neurotypical world is like being a wildflower planted among garden flowers. You’re tended to like a garden flower, but don’t thrive because you have different needs. So you’re left to figure out how to grow and bloom in a space you’re not built for and push through the “help” that harms and deliberate attacks from pests and weed killers. You want to reach out to other wildflowers when you’re struggling, but there’s no one else around, and the garden flowers can’t help you because you’re not like them. Well I say it’s high time the gardener starts seeing the wildflower as a different kind of flower, but a flower all the same. And that’s why I built The Wildflower Mind.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I was in a relationship when I was a teenager that ended badly and in hindsight wasn’t the best to begin with. Since then, I’ve been trying for years to find a new partner. But I haven’t been very successful. Every guy I’ve met that I liked has either already been taken, disappears, says or does something that kills my attraction, or just isn’t into women. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem with gay men. I proudly call myself an ally of the LGBTQIA+ community. But when you meet a cute guy and he’s your type but it turns out he’s not into you, it’s frustrating!

I’ve tried a lot of things to meet single young men in my area. I did speed dating events for a while with Cincy Singles, but I felt awkward approaching guys and nervous when someone approached me. I’m not sure why this was my experience, as I’m not normally socially anxious. I think was probably multiple fears I had rearing their heads at once and contradicting themselves. I didn’t want to be alone, but I also didn’t know what to say or how to act and didn’t want to get rejected. Especially since I already struggle with expressing myself verbally. I have zero ability to flirt. Plus, none of the men that approached me at these events seemed like my type, so I was immediately off-put. One of my worst fears is getting trapped in an abusive relationship, and I guess men that bold and forward came off as desperate to me, which set off my alarm bells.

Dating apps have been a struggle too. The swiping feature is annoying because you have to choose yes or no to matching with someone, but there’s no “maybe” option. I’ve come across numerous profiles where I was interested but not quite certain, and there wasn’t an option to save it for later viewing and decide when you have fresh eyes and a clearer mind. So it feels like the app is pressuring you to make an impulsive decision and doesn’t like it if you’re trying to be careful and look before you leap. This is something dating apps should be encouraging so that people don’t wind up matching with creeps or people who seek to harm them. What’s also irritating about the swiping feature on dating apps is how easy it is to accidentally swipe the wrong way. You could be looking at someone you’re interested in and accidentally swipe left and lose them, or be reading through a profile and not really liking what you’re seeing but accidentally swipe right. When I have actually matched with guys on dating apps, the conversations don’t go anywhere because I either get ghosted or feel uncomfortable because he’s too hasty or just wants me for my body.

And that there is part of the problem with being a young woman dating in this modern world. I and a lot of young women I know want a genuine emotional connection, but it’s so hard to find. There’s too many guys in online spaces and in real life who just want to hookup. Or worse, they can lie about who they are to get you to fall in love with an illusion, and then take the mask off and do whatever they can to keep you under their control. Oh and let’s not forget all the incels out there who don’t respect women, yet for some reason want a female partner. It’s like walking through a minefield to get to the promised land, you’re rolling the dice with every step you take. Every woman who makes the trek winds up wounded in some way. Some get so injured that they simply give up and turn around. And tragically, not everyone survives the journey. And as time goes on, there’s less and less space in the promised land, so you feel like you have to scramble to make sure there’s room for you.

Now add being neurodivergent on top of it. Navigating the neurotypical social world is already challenging enough with all the unspoken rules, unclear expectations and indirect communication. But when you’re dating, there’s even more unspoken rules and unclear expectations to navigate! Plus it paints a target on your back. Some people will avoid you like the plague because you’re an “undesirable”, and others will fetishize you. Because they want someone “a little bit autistic” or you’re their “autistic manic pixie dream girl”. Our neurodivergence isn’t some quirk for you to fetishize! We’re real people with real needs, problems and disabilities! Getting overstimulated and having a meltdown isn’t cute. Panic attacks are not cute. Autistic burnout is not cute.

I think a lot of these issues are part of why a good amount of neurodivergent people are asexual/aromantic or choose to remain single. But personally, having been in love once, I think all of the trials and tribulations of love are worth it. Yeah my last relationship didn’t work out for me, but there was a lot of things I got learn and experience that I wouldn’t have otherwise. I got to dance the night away with the person I loved at our homecomings and proms. I had my first kiss. And I made so many beautiful memories on all our dates, like our picnic by the river, or the scavenger hunt at my church, or the time we sat in the trunk of our friend’s car and ate ice cream. The relationship taught me how to love someone romantically and gave me clarity into what it is want and need in a partner, as well as what doesn’t work for me. Looking at it this way, I’m eager to see what my next love will bring to our relationship and what magic moments we’ll make into treasured memories together.

I thought I found that with my first love, my high school sweetheart. His name was John. We met when he was a freshman and I was a sophomore in high school in our study hall. He was cute, funny and nerdy. We became friends quickly because of our shared love of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. There was one time we wasted an entire class period talking with our mutual friend about our theories for the upcoming MCU films and the direction it was going. One day at the end of class, he told me he liked me. I wasn’t sure how I felt, but my dad told me to go for it. So when we went to see a movie with our friend that weekend, I told him I liked him too, and we started dating. I continued to remain uncertain for a while, especially when he told me he loved me quite early into our relationship, but as we kept on dating, I found myself falling deeper and deeper in love. We went to see movies at our houses or the movie theater, a local fall festival, homecoming dances and both of our proms. Before I realized it, I’d fallen madly in love with John. And I thought he loved me too. We started talking about building a future together when were both done with college. Graduating and getting married. Starting a family at some point. I was so happy - I could see the future I’d always dreamed of coming true with John!

But then something changed. His grades were too low to get into college, so he decided he wanted to join the Navy so he could get training for a good job that way. I wasn’t happy about it at first because I’d heard stories about what military boot camp, advanced training and service was like from my dad who served in the Army and later the Coast Guard. I knew it was going to be tough on John and it would be a long time before I saw him again. And I was worried for his safety, that if we went to war he’d be put on the front lines. But John didn’t see any other option. So after talking about it with him, my dad and my grandma, I eventually came around. It was hard to see him go off to boot camp, I remember we met up in the parking lot of a nearby Wendy’s so I could give him one last hug and kiss before he went off to basic training. I promised him I’d wait for him and stay loyal while he was in service. That was the last time I ever saw him.

During his basic training, I only ever received one phone call from him. And then…nothing. Radio silence. He never called me, so I tried calling his base. I couldn’t figure out how to operate the calling system to reach him, so I just hung up. So then I tried sending him a letter, and it got returned. Finally his mom told me he was being “recycled” because he was struggling in basic training and had to start the program over again, which meant he would be coming home for a while. She said he wanted to talk to me, so I tried texting him over and over. Never got a reply. My gut kept telling me something was wrong, that he was about to break up with me, but I refused to believe it. Then finally, after months of waiting I got a letter from him. It said:

“Dear Maddie,

I’m getting recycled and the process is taking longer than I thought. While in boot camp I have had a lot of time to think. I thought about us a lot. It’s hard for me to say but I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I’m sorry to have to say this but sometimes you have to let go in order to grow up. You're a great person and a wonderful girl and you’ll find someone special. Please don’t try to contact me because I’m not changing my mind.

Best of luck,

John”

I had to reread the letter multiple times to make sure I didn’t misread it or misunderstand it. But it just said the same thing over and over. The pain slowly set in as my mind processed. It was over. He’d broken up with me. He didn’t want me anymore. I’d just lost my beloved grandparents and my childhood dog. Now my boyfriend too. The next thing I knew I was bawling hysterically and running down the stairs for my mom’s comfort. Everything hurt as my heart that was already broken and bleeding shattered, especially my chest. I felt like I’d lost everything.

I spent the next 6 months feeling lost and mourning the future I’d thought I’d have and the guy I thought was the love of my life. I essentially went through the five stages of grief as I worked through the pain of my broken heart. At first I lived in denial, delusion even. I told myself and others that he didn’t mean it, that he’d been forced to write the letter by someone in boot camp as part of his military training to toughen him up. Then I was angry. I blamed the Navy for changing him and hated the military, until my dad told me that wasn’t how boot camp or military service worked. I was also mad at him and imagined ways I could get revenge, though I never acted on them. When I found out he was coming home and had dropped out of the Navy, I shifted into the bargaining phase. Now that his situation had changed, that would mean he was going to come back to me, right?! Yeah, that didn’t happen. I met up with a different mutual friend of ours who told me John had moved on with another girl. And that sent me right into the depression phase. I knew now that there was no going back to the way things were.

So I threw myself into my college life. I had already moved into an on-campus dorm that August, while I was still in the bargaining phase. When it became clear that John wasn’t coming back to me, I fully invested myself into making the most of my college freshman experience. I made new friends in a special program I was a part of specifically for autistic students, and got into D&D. I got involved in a political club. I explored my campus and the surrounding area, and learned new things from my classes. And I attended sessions with an on-campus counselor to help me work through all my grief. Plus I tried new things, like attending live sports (audio-sensory nightmare), going on a freshman retreat (that was pretty fun other than the stupid dances they tried to make us do at the “Barn Dance”), and exploring the monthly on-campus events our Student Activities Council put on (those were always fun, and I won I gift card in a raffle once!).

And slowly but surely, I healed. It was one of the most painful experiences I’ve ever had, but thanks to the counselors at Xavier University, the love of my family and friends, and listening to break up songs (my favorite was Be Alright by Dean Lewis), I survived. One winter’s evening, I wrote up and printed out a letter to John cursing him out for the pain he’d inflicted upon me and telling him I never wanted to see him again. I mailed it out to him because I still had his home address, along with a cheap plastic ring he’d given me that I always wore and a personalized Swiss Army knife that I’d gotten him as a gift. I then blocked him and his mom’s phone numbers and their profiles on social media so he couldn’t reach out to me again. One of our mutual friends told me John was alarmed by the letter I sent him and wanted to talk to me, but I refused. He’d made his bed, now he had to lay in it. I wasn’t going to let him hurt me again.

Looking back on it now that I’m older and wiser, I can’t believe I was even in this relationship with John, much less for 3 whole years of my life. I missed so many red flags. For one thing, John was incredibly lazy. The reason why his grades were so low he couldn’t get into college? He never did his homework! He did all the classwork, tests and exams, but his mom and I could never persuade him to do his homework for some reason. And then he got all “shocked Pikachu face” when his grades weren’t good enough to get into any art programs so he could be an animator! Not to mention his only idea of a date was making out on his mom’s couch while we watched a crappy movie. All of our creative dates had to be planned and executed by me, and he’d expect me to pay for everything because he was that cheap. And he was a compulsive liar - he'd tell me all these ridiculous stories, like how a terrorist that used a van to run over some people on a bike line in Washington D.C. had been his neighbor. In high school, I developed what I now recognize was an eating disorder that involved binge-eating, feast-famine behavior and self-soothing with food, which caused me to gain a lot of weight over the years. Whenever I told John about my weight gain, his comments were judgmental rather than supportive. I understand he was probably worried about me, but it only made my disordered behaviors worse. He rarely ever complimented me anyways, I basically had to coerce him to tell me I was beautiful. He was even critical of my writing when I told him about a character for a story I was wanting to write, telling me this character was too much like me (which she was kinda based on me at the time, but not fully). All of his criticisms hurt my confidence. But the biggest issue in my mind was that towards the end of our relationship, it seemed like his love for me turned to into lust. All John would ever talk passionately about in our relationship was how he couldn’t wait to have sex with me when we were both in college, and how he pushed me to get an IUD so we could do it (which I did end up getting years later, but for health reasons, not for sex). I asked once if he only wanted me for sex, and he told me no, sex was a short term goal and marriage was his long term goal with me. But I didn’t fully believe him, I’m not sure why. Maybe my intuition somehow picked up cues that he may have been lying, or maybe there was something off in his tone that I only recognized subconsciously.

John’s friends weren’t exactly good people either. There was this one guy he would always sit with at lunch, Brian, who was a major asshole. He made fun of me for being a feminist and remained absolutely convinced that feminism was about hating men and was a cancer on society, no matter how much I tried to convince him otherwise. John never stood up for me. Brian asked me once what about problems women had in our modern world that needed to be fixed. I answered “rape culture” and he laughed at me. I got mad and stormed off, and John followed. I asked John why he didn’t stand me, and he said he “didn’t know what to say”. Literally anything would’ve worked! Not to mention Brain got suspended once, and John told me it was because he’d punched a girl in the stomach. I told John I felt that Brian deserved the punishment, and the first words out of his mouth were, “In his defense, the girl was being annoying”. As if that somehow justified assaulting her?!

I sometimes think about a discussion I had in my English class one year in high school, where my group was debating whether or not love makes you go crazy or unable to think clearly. At the time, I argued no because even though I was in love, I was capable of coherent thoughts and doing well in school. But these days, after what I went through dating John and the heartbreak that ensued, I would argue yes because of all the red flags I missed. There’s this quote I read from a screen capture of the show Bojack Horseman, which says something along the lines of “When you’re wearing rose-colored glasses, all of the red flags just look like flags”. That is honestly one of the realest things I’ve ever heard a fictional character say.

The only time I think back on that relationship now is when I ponder the “what-ifs”. Specifically the question, “If I had known back then what I know now, would I still have entered that relationship with John?” And the truth is, I don’t know. On one hand, if I’d known, I could’ve saved myself from heartbreak and waited for someone better. On the other hand, this relationship did give me some memories that I still treasure, like going to prom my senior year and that picnic we had at Smael Riverfront Park one nice summer evening to celebrate the anniversary of our relationship. And the lessons I learned from dating John helped me better understand what I’m looking for in a relationship and what I didn’t like or didn’t work so that I can choose better next time.

I still haven’t found a new partner yet, but it’s hard being a neurodivergent woman looking for love. I’ll talk about it more in my next post. But I haven’t given up, and I’m looking forward to seeing what my next love brings. Maybe this time will be the time I strike gold.

I’m someone who feels my emotions very deeply. It’s a blessing and a curse. On one hand, being able to feel so deeply makes me a better writer and a very empathetic person. Because I feel so powerfully, when I combine this ability with my vivid imagination, I’m able to envision and understand how person might be thinking and feeling at that moment, or how a character may respond to a situation. Doing so not only fuels my creative writing, but it helps me notice sooner when a loved one is upset, find the best words to comfort them, and figure out what they need to feel better.

On the other hand, my emotions can overwhelm me at times. Anger feels like wrestling a bear. I can feel its wild might and feral ferocity as it grips me in its powerful arms. It sinks its teeth and claws into me and refuses to let go. I have to use all of my strength to keep it back. Most of the time I win, but there are times that the bear gets the better of me. Anxiety is like wandering through a haunted house with a malevolent phantom. Its voice whispers in my ears, telling me all of these terrible things and warning of potential dangers ahead. I try to run from it, but it only gets louder and scarier as it pursues me into a trap. Then it slowly wraps its hands around my throat until I can’t breathe and my heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. And sadness feels like slowly sinking into a dark, cold ocean while tied to an anchor. Watching as the light slowly fades and the surface gradually gets farther away, the darkness and chills enveloping me like an icy cloak. And try as I might, I just keep sinking because it’s so heavy that there’s nowhere to go but down. Pain is like getting stabbed with an invisible sword. There’s that sudden burst as the wound appears, and then it just aches, no matter how much you try to ignore it.

I know my emotions mean well and have a good reason to exist. Anxiety is only trying to keep me safe and plan for the future to prevent danger or harm. Anger is just trying to protect me from being mistreated or abused and make sure I survive. Pain is an alert system that lets me know something hurt me in the past or the present, and reminds me of how deeply I want something I don’t have yet. And sadness is there to allow empathy to exist and to make way for joy. If we don’t know sorrow from the bad times in life, we won’t be able to recognize happiness from life’s good moments. But when they’re ignored or suppressed, they spiral until they grow too powerful, and that’s when they become unhealthy or even dangerous. Anxiety goes from a guardian angel and a helpful planner to a relentless demon that you can hide from, but not escape. Anger transforms from a valiant warrior of justice into a beast that craves violence and destruction. Pain becomes a weapon rather than a reminder or an alert. And sadness becomes a prison rather than just a feeling.

Emotions are necessary for human existence. So why is it so discouraged to express the ones that aren’t positive? I woke up this morning in a bad mood for some reason (I think it may have simply been feeling tired, but I don’t know for sure) but I had to act like I was fine because my parents were around. They’ve scolded or yelled at me in the past for being too emotional. I’ve been told I was “acting like a child” and that the way I was expressing myself was inappropriate. And I didn’t want to go through that again when I was already feeling grumpy so I just kept my mouth shut and made sure to use a somewhat positive tone when I spoke. But later I started wondering why I did that. I suppose it's because it’s one of the ways I’ve been conditioned to mask over my lifetime. My parents probably meant well and this was part of their desire to mold me into someone who could fit into the neurotypical world. But it shouldn’t be that way. I shouldn’t have to pretend I’m fine when I’m not and try to stifle my feelings. That’s not who I am as a person and it’s not healthy. I’ve never been very good at concealing my emotions anyways.

Thankfully, I think more and more people are starting to realize that we need to be free to express our emotions instead of keeping them all bottled up inside. There’s a lot less stigma about going to therapy, which means more people are getting the help they need and are expressing themselves in a place where they won’t be judged. Haunted houses and other fear-based attractions are thriving. Rage rooms are popping up in cities across the US. We’re even starting to make media about how it’s good to embrace our feelings. In the first Frozen movie, Elsa spends many years bottling up her emotions to keep her ice powers under control. But during her iconic song Let It Go, she finally embraces her powers and her feelings, allowing her to see the beauty in them. And Pixar’s Inside Out movies illustrate the purpose of each emotion, why they’re necessary, how they shape us, and the dangers of keeping them contained or only allowing yourself to feel some of them.

But truthfully, I think we’ve always known deep down the value of healthily releasing our feelings. People have been creating art that promotes emotional release for thousands of years - sad songs, tragic plays, horror stories, etc. We just need to remember that and embrace it. Letting out your feelings in a positive, constructive way should be seen as an act of self-love and necessary for one’s health, not as an act of immaturity. Emotional releases are something that should be encouraged. Personally, I’d love to see more places open up that allow people to express the feelings that they have trapped inside. Something like rage rooms but for emotions that don’t quite have outlets yet, like sadness. Maybe something like a room that people can go into and just let themselves cry, and it’s full of pillows and couches and soothing music to make as comfortable and soothing as possible. Heck, even places that grant emotional releases in other ways would be excellent to have more of, like art studios or pottery painting shops! This, I think, would do a lot to help solve the mental health crisis that’s plaguing America right now. Because at the end of the day, we’re not robots and life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows and flowers. Sometimes storms come, and with them come negative emotions, and that’s okay. Flowers need rain too.

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City life as a neurodivergent is interesting to say the least. And I mean that in both a positive and a negative way. Going into downtown Cincinnati is like a little adventure. It makes me think about that famous quote from Forrest Gump - “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get”. While that’s certainly true of life in general, especially as a neurodivergent, it especially rings true for city life. No two days are ever exactly the same. Cincinnati is a little city with the attitude of a big one. It kinda reminds of a small dog - a big personality in a small package.

Everything in the downtown part of Cincinnati is loud. The buses are constantly beeping and making hissing noises as they release air to “kneel” closer to the sidewalk. It’s useful for the handicapped people, and I’m glad it’s a feature of modern transportation. But why does it have to be so loud?! Does the bus really need to let out an ear-piercing beep and a giant continuous hiss every time it kneels? Could we maybe turn it down a little so it’s not so grating?

Not to mention the construction crews. When I was walking to my workplace everyday when I worked downtown, there were often construction crews working on the sidewalks or the roads just outside of my building. They were always so noisy - their trucks beeping as they backed up, their materials slamming onto the ground. One day they were working on the sidewalk directly outside of my office. I could feel the ground vibrating as they pounded a jackhammer into it. It was so loud I could hardly hear myself think, much less the phone or our customers. Every time they stopped the jackhammer I hoped that was the last time they would need to use it. But it just kept going for hours! I thought about grabbing my noise-cancelling headphones, but I needed to answer the phone as part of my job, so I couldn’t. I swear that day I almost went insane. If I hadn’t had online friends I could reach out to while I was stuck in the situation, I think I might’ve had a meltdown.

Even everyday sounds seem louder in the city. Sirens from emergency vehicles squeal louder in cities than they do in towns or in the countryside. Nature itself seems louder downtown. I stopped at the downtown library to return a book on my way to work one stormy morning. Just as I’d closed the drawer for the book deposit, there was a deafening clap of thunder. My heart stopped for a moment. I almost thought a bomb had just gone off. It was scary stepping out from under the awning afterwards. If that clap of thunder had been that loud, that meant it was close. Who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again? What if a bolt struck me next? But thankfully, the storm seemed to let its anger out with only that one burst.

I think I know why cities seem to be louder than other places. With so many towers around, there’s a lot of hard surfaces for sound to bounce off of. I bet if you were loud enough, your voice could echo down the street for miles, like if you’d shouted in a cave. Still, sometimes I wish I had a magic knob that I could turn to lower the volume of the city. Or a switch on my head I could flip to turn off my hearing for a while. I don’t know how anyone puts up with it day in and day out, especially the animals. As sharp as my ears are, theirs are even sharper. Sounds that hurt for me must be agonizing for them! I feel especially for the birds. Imagine how it must feel not being able to hear yourself sing.

That being said, I don’t think city life is absolutely horrible. Not everything in Cincinnati is loud. When I was working downtown, I decided to take a walk to Washington Park to eat my lunch one day. It was a beautiful sunny day with not a cloud in the sky. As I soaked up the sun’s rays, all of the frustration I felt about my job and my coworkers seemed to fall away like sand in an hourglass. The quiet of the park was like a breath of fresh air from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the city. It was refreshing seeing trees and people walking their dogs instead of computer screens. I love little moments of stillness and tranquility like this. It helps me reset my mind and align with my soul. I remember that good and beautiful things still exist in this world, and they always have and always will. Love, joy and hope are eternal, and can never be destroyed. Remembering that universal truth gives me the strength to carry on through whatever I’m going through, even a terrible job. And as I walked back to my workplace, I discovered there was a cookie shop within walking distance of my job! I thought about stopping to grab a treat, but I didn’t want to be late getting back to work.

Downtown life also introduces you to all kinds of interesting animals. At my job, one of my duties was to watch the feed from the camera by the front door so I could unlock it when someone came in for an appointment. That meant I could see people walking by our building. One of my favorite people to observe was a person (I can’t remember if it was a man or a woman) who walked their corgi by our building every morning. I loved seeing that dog toddle on by on its little legs, he always seemed so happy. Smiling as he walked, ears pointed straight up to the sky. It was especially cute seeing him in his little green raincoat when the weather was bad. I always wondered what that dog’s name was. And when I walked to work in the morning, there was always a flock of pigeons and sparrows just outside the downtown library. One of the pigeons I noticed had splotches of white mixed in with its darker feathers. I wondered how that was possible. And I found it impressive how the pigeons and the sparrows were able to coexist peacefully with each other despite their differences. I wish people could be more like that.

Speaking of people, there’s all kinds of interesting people that I ran into in downtown Cincinnati. One day as I was walking to work, a man looked me in the eyes and told me “They took my whole world from me when they took my kids away”. It still makes me curious why he felt the need to tell me, a complete stranger, something like this. Maybe the weight of this information was so heavy and painful that he had to tell someone, and I just happened to be the first person to acknowledge him in a while. I’ve found that sharing your problems with others makes it easier to carry them or even find a solution. I also remember this homeless couple that was always sitting outside of the Contemporary Arts Center in the mornings near my bus stop. I gave them a dollar whenever I had cash on me and they were always so thankful. I never learned their names, but I found it inspiring how, despite their circumstances, they stayed faithful to each other and faced the struggles of homelessness together. In wedding vows, the bride and groom often promise to remain faithful to each other “for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live”. This couple lived up to that promise for each other. I hope I find a love like that someday.

But what I love most about city life is the culture and unique identity of the city. In Cincinnati, there’s a nonprofit called ArtWorks, and one of the things they do is paint murals on buildings, walls and other structures to give the city more charm. One of the murals was just outside of my office. It depicted a kraken attacking a ship in the midst of a storm. It was a beautiful painting for people to glance at as they walked by, but if you really stopped to look at like I did, the detail of it was amazing. There were individual panes on the windows of the ship and suckers on the tentacles of the kraken. The crashing waves were made of black, green and blue in various shades, topped with splotches of white that actually looked like real foam. They perfectly captured what a crashing wave looks like. Staring at this mural, I could almost hear the sea churning and the ship groaning as it frightened crew shouted, desperately trying to shake off the monster. I wonder who came up with the idea for the mural, and why that spot. There was nothing resembling the sea or ships in that area. Maybe because we were near where the canal once was? But then why not make a mural about a canal?

There’s more to Cincinnati’s culture and identity than just art. Food is also a large aspect of it. Within walking distance from where I worked, not only could you find a Skyline Chili restaurant, but also restaurants serving Asian, Indian, Hawaiian, and Italian cuisine, as well as an open air restaurant that grilled sausages and burgers during the warm seasons. Walk a bit in one direction, and you could find a New York style pizza place. In another direction, a casual sit-down reminiscent of a 50’s diner. And in another, a mock British pub. And on what would be my last day in that job, a crew was setting up just down the road for the Asian Street Food Festival. It was nice getting to eat a variety of foods so that I could have one of my comfort foods when I needed it, or try something new when I felt adventurous. Though I did make the mistake of eating a curry that was so spicy it made my lips burn and my nose run.

Cities like Cincinnati truly are fascinating places and perfect for neurodivergents. The unique mixture of ever-changing and developing aspects with the familiarity of permanent fixtures satisfies both sides of the mind. And with so much to see, do and discover, a neurodivergent person is bound to find something that relates to their special interests. I truly believe if cities weren’t so loud and overstimulating, they would be the perfect environments for neurodivergent communities.