What does “wired differently” mean? (Part 1)

My single mother moved my little brother and me back to New York City, where she was from, from Ohio, where my father had moved us for work a few years before. But they were divorced now and he’d moved to New York, so she wanted us to be near him as well as her family.

It was the middle of second grade; I was almost eight years old.

I definitely didn’t fit in.

First, it was just a few months before the end of the school year. The cliques were well established and not open to outsiders. And with my handmade dresses and (newly acquired!) midwestern accent, I was clearly not from there.

I don’t remember ever really making a conscious decision about it, but I wholeheartedly embraced my weird.

I come from a family of artists and craftspeople and had been making things since I could walk. So I’d bring whatever craft project I was immersed in to the cafeteria in my lunchbox and make small pillows or soft toys or weave or do needlework when I was finished eating. The lunch ladies were always curious to see what the odd little blonde girl was going to make today. (To clarify, I didn’t make my own dresses! Those were made by my very talented grandmother, and I thought they were special and beautiful.)

I wasn’t shy, although it must’ve looked like it, as I tended to hang back and observe before joining in whatever the other kids were doing.

I also wasn’t into sports of any kind, so couldn’t join those groups. I did play a wicked game of jacks and started winning some tournaments. That didn’t win me any friends, though.

Later, I went to a school for “gifted kids,” middle and high school combined, and to a special summer camp for the arts. It was easier to make friends in both places, as there were a lot more kids like me.

There was also a lot of weird, mostly in a good way. ???

I still didn’t fit in with the cool cliques, but I fit in more than I had—and it was ok there to be more of a loner and have just a couple of close friends. There were a lot of us. And I found out decades later that many (most?) of us had felt like I had. Some just hid it better than others.

My different wiring

Fast-forward through college, my 20s, 30s (my “lost decade”—I might share if we ever go out for drinks together ??), even early 40s.

The locations/jobs/surroundings/countries changed—I moved a lot—but the general feeling that I thought and functioned differently than most never left me.

It affected everything in my life. My nervous system was always more sensitive to sound and noise, and I needed quiet (which was often hard to find) to focus or work. I noticed scents and tastes and textures and subtleties in the environment that others didn’t.

I was more emotional, and more definite in my opinions and values and how I wanted to spend my time. Fairness and justice were important to me, even as a kid.

Things that people around me didn’t seem to have any problems with were harder for me: Going along with a decision just because the majority felt a certain way (or said they did). Following a certain path or taking a certain job because it offered more money. Putting up with a toxic boss or workplace culture because it was easier than leaving and finding something else.

I left more than one job with no plan B because I just couldn’t stay another day. In one case, I hadn’t planned to quit, but during one last ridiculous conversation with my VP the words just flew out of my mouth. She gave me a chance to take them back, but I couldn’t.

In a couple of others, I came home every day in tears from the combined stress and frustration and sometimes anger, until I gave up fighting it all and finally resigned.

Often, I knew others were frustrated too. But not enough to take a stand or make a move.

I just didn’t fit in.

Neurodivergence and different wiring

At least 30% of the population is neurodivergent. What is neurodivergent? One definition is “differing?in mental or?neurological?function from what is considered typical or normal.” (I’m putting giant air quotes around the words “typical” and “normal,” but that’s a topic for another day!)

Health care providers and medical texts will tell you that there are specific conditions, often labeled “disorders,” that fit into this boxy category. They usually include ADHD, autism, dyslexia, dyspraxia, dysgraphia, dyscalculia, Tourette’s, and more.

Very few of these resources ever mention sensory processing sensitivity—the scientific name for the trait of high sensitivity—even though high sensitivity shows up in a very high percentage of ADHDers, autistics, and others within the neurodivergent community.

I use the phrase “wired a little differently” to refer generally to anyone with any of these traits, recognized or not, diagnosed/diagnosable or not, masked or not.

I’ve been on a deep dive learning about the giant topic of neurodivergence for a while now, and have a lot to say about it. (I’m also writing a book on it! Sign up for my email newsletter to join me on the journey.) Watch this space. For now, I’ll end with a heartfelt plea:

Thirty percent is a lot, and I think it’s conservative. If none of this resonated at all with you (in which case, thank you for reading this far!), chances are that something in it would with at least a third of all the people you know and love. ?

Spoiler alert: We’re all “wired a little differently,” because no two brains are the same. So how might we all show a little more understanding and open-mindedness and compassion to ourselves and to others?

?? Please forward this to anyone who might need to hear that they're not alone.

?? If you're a corporate leader, entrepreneur or business leader who's tired of dealing with the frustrations of being wired differently on your own and ready to make some changes, DM me. Let's chat.