As I sit here, reflecting on the whirlwind of emotions and sensory challenges that fill my days, I am compelled to share my journey. For years, I donned what I thought was my superwoman cape, striving to be everything to everyone—mother, wife, friend, daughter, sister, professional. Yet beneath that cape was a reality I hadn’t fully accepted: the limitations of my own body and mind.
My daily battles are not just with the tasks at hand but with a neurodevelopmental disorder that makes every sound more piercing, every responsibility heavier. The older I get, the more I feel the weight of the world, not just in the metaphorical sense but in the very literal influx of sensory inputs that fray my nerves.
I’ve tried to intellectualize my emotions, to put words to what I feel, yet those words never seem to capture the chaos. Driven by internalized traumas from past experiences of racism, sexism and ableism, my emotional and sensory circuits often overload, leaving me paralyzed in a sea of tasks that seem as insurmountable as mountains.
Amidst this, I’ve sought refuge in therapies, in medications and routines finely tuned to keep me afloat. And yet, there are days when even these are not enough. Days when my hormonal fluctuations tip the balance, and I find myself grappling with an anxiety so profound that my body echoes with the pain of migraine and fatigue.
Recognizing the signs of depression creeping upon me, I’ve invested more into my health—both mental and physical. Therapy, coaching, tools, support systems and joining a fitness program specifically tailored for mental health. I am learning to navigate back to my basic needs: eating well, sleeping enough, hydrating and feeling good.
This journey is far from easy. Every day is a battle against my own mind and body—a battle to be present for my children and husband, to keep up with the dizzying pace of life. Yet, as I share this, I find strength in vulnerability and a hope that by unmasking my struggles, I might help others feel less alone.
The road ahead is uncertain, but one thing is clear: I am not just a survivor of my conditions; I am a warrior, fighting for a life that I deserve. And in this fight, I am never alone.
