Life Begins at 40…Neurodivergence, Self-Forgiveness, and a New Book

Before I blew out my 43rd birthday candles, my husband reminded me to make a wish. I realized something incredible: I had everything I could want. My forthcoming publication of “PULSE,” from Omnidawn Publishing, my second, long-awaited collection of poems, is one of the miracles.

There are so many more: my husband, my friends and students (you know who you are), my new job, and supportive coworkers. The last unexpected blessing was the confirmation that I am delightfully neurodivergent.

The day after my 43rd birthday, I received an ADHD diagnosis to complement several other preexisting conditions, including traits or diagnoses of OCD, PTSD, dyslexia, and dyscalculia. It’s funny that my brain localized all those acronyms close to one place.

The greatest gift you can give anyone is being yourself. There is a saying that life begins at 40; I agree. I’m just barely getting started.

My life now makes so much more sense. Since childhood and throughout much of my adult life, what others dubbed quirks, spaciness, and eccentricities seemed to culminate in perceived weaknesses.

The terrible standardized test scores. The awful math grades. The generally awful school grades. The inability to sit still. Always being in trouble for talking back. Getting teased by friends because I couldn’t understand how to play a simple card game. Getting teased by adults later in life because while working my many cash register jobs, I could NOT count back change, or money, to save my life. I also lack spatial relations, LOL. You do NOT want me to parallel park your car.

And yet, I have so much to be thankful for leading up to now. My unique brain chemistry has gifted me with a photographic memory. As I discovered in my later adult years, my strategic ability allows me to thrive in the workaday world because my mind works so quickly that I can look at websites and marketing strategies and create a smooth strategy. I published one of the few or first pantoums in The New Yorker. I crossed borders by myself, from Belize to Guatemala. I’ve had Balinese medicine men put their healing hands on me.

The most moving part of this journey is giving grace to that child, teenager, and adult who was not like the others. It means thanking the people who saw and see me throughout the years. It means forgiving family members, teachers, acquaintances, and former service industry bosses who attached synonyms for “dumb” and “weird” to my name, or at least saying to them I made it. So there.

The way I gauge whether I “made it” isn’t through the above accomplishments. It’s whether or not I, at 21, would’ve wanted to have a beer with me now. The answer is yes. I’d have a beer with me. I’d think I was A-OK and pretty cool.

I wish you and all your future selves the same. 💓