I have been watching a series of documents where David Suchet, who is famous for playing Hercule Poirot, is traveling the world following the footsteps of Agatha Christie. If you don’t know, I’m obsessed with Agatha Christie. My favorite book ever is her Come, Tell Me How You Live, which follows her time on archeological excavations in Syria. It’s deeply touching, lyrical, and absolutely hilarious at the same time. I also love her own autobiography. I have read all her books. So, of course, I was devouring this document all series. 

But it also hurt. 

I realized how far I’m from my dream of traveling the world. I yearn for it desperately, and I worry if I will ever be able to fulfill it. 

Because, as much as I love traveling, it’s also one of the most difficult things for me. 

I often joke if I couldn’t have chosen an easier passion, like knitting or beekeeping. 

Loving a Life I’m Not Sure I Can Live

My autism is making adapting to a new environment hard. The uncertainty of what will happen next is excruciating to me. Being surrounded by people and their noise in the train or on the plane, without the option to run away, is draining. Trying to get comfortable enough to relax in the strangeness of an unknown accommodation is challenging. Navigating a new place, new city, is daunting. 

And yet I love traveling with all my soul. 

Because the first few steps in a new place are beautiful. Full of taunting possibilities. I love to notice the small details that are different from where I live. They tell me, “You are really somewhere new”. I love the adventure and the unexpected meetings. The very things that make traveling difficult for me are also the most beautiful aspects of it.

I love getting lost in a new city, taking a different turn than my map tells me just because I like that way better, because I’m curious about what lies around that corner. I often come across the most unexpected things this way. My ex used to tell me that I have a talent for landing in unusual, interesting situations. 

But I have yet to set foot outside Europe. The furthest I have been from home is the Canary Islands. And the whole world awaits, full of wonder and possibilities. 

When will come my turn to explore it? 

My Brain Wasn’t Built for This. My Heart Was.

Right now, I don’t have the capacity to do something like that. I’m slowly, very slowly, trying to get back into traveling. My first trip was just for one night, to a neighboring town just 30 minutes by train away. I picked it so that I could easily escape if I feel I can’t do it. I was supposed to take this trip with a friend, but she fell ill on the day, and I decided to go alone, even though I was frightened. In the end, I didn’t spend one moment alone. I met a lot of wonderful people exploring the town, I had a private museum tour, and my host lady, upon learning I’m unexpectedly alone, invited me to dinner. We talked for several hours. It was a success. So I took the next step and went abroad.

I wanted to visit the Christmas markets in Dresden. On the day of departure, I was so nervous that I woke up at 4 AM, and I was feeling so bad that I wasn’t sure if I should go. I sent a message to my therapist, and she advised me to just get to the train station and see from there if I should continue. So I did. And I boarded the train. And I felt I was making a mistake. I still felt that way when I  ventured into the streets of Dresden and saw the first stalls selling mulled wine. But I pushed on, and somewhere during the course of the evening, I started enjoying myself. In the end, I visited all the main markets, bought sweets and souvenirs, and almost got lost when my phone ran out of charge, and I had to navigate back to my accommodation, asking random people on the streets for directions. It was a good time. 

Both of these trips were an adventure with a happy ending. Both of them were a way out of my comfort zone and a stepping stone to something bigger. But there is a long way from a trip to a nearby town to exploring the world. 

How Do You Chase a Dream That Breaks You?

It’s so difficult to make peace with the fact that my brain may not be suited to the thing I desire the most. Seeing other people living my dream and not knowing if I will ever get the chance, just because of who I am. Feeling that my very being is sabotaging me. That the thing I want the most is my kryptonite.

I still hope my story will have a happy ending. That the therapy will help me get better, resolving my trauma will make my capacity to handle things bigger, that the efforts to travel despite the odds will allow me to go further and further. That the door to the world will open slowly to me. That the time for my adventure will yet come. 

The Quiet Grief of Neurodivergent Dreams

Maybe this is one of the hardest parts of being neurodivergent: sometimes our deepest loves don’t align with the way we function. 

We can crave novelty and fear it. Long for expansion and are overwhelmed by it. Dream of the unknown while needing predictability to feel safe. 

Maybe we just need to adapt our dreams to our brains. We don’t necessarily need to change the goal, just the way of getting there. 

We may need to chart our own way. To work with our nervous system. To find ways that are doable for us. To think ahead, to plan, to adapt. To get to know ourselves and our needs and take them into account, while still moving forward. 

Learning to Travel in a Language My Brain Understands

Maybe my version of “seeing the world” will never look like spontaneous backpacking across continents with only a carry-on and a loose plan, no matter how much I would like it to. Maybe it will look more like carefully researched itineraries, familiar routines recreated in strange hotel rooms, one city at a time, one nervous-system-safe stretch beyond my comfort zone after another.

And maybe that is enough.

Maybe the world does not open only to the fearless. Maybe it also opens to the cautious, the overwhelmed, the ones who need to take it in tiny pieces.

Maybe we can make our own way.

Want to see more posts like this?

Sign up for my newsletter and get a free copy of the mini-ebook AuDHD Survival Guide: 5 Steps After Your (Self)Diagnosis!

Please follow and like us:
fb-share-icon
fb-share-icon

Similar Posts

Being autistic is... for example, being fascinated by the little things, like the woman in this picture, who is watching a violet flower that hides a part of her face.

Being Autistic Is… 

Autism, Neurodivergence

This piece is inspired by the famous blog post by sci-fi writer John Scalzi, Being Poor. Every autistic person is different, so while these are the little things from my everyday life, yours may be something else completely. As they say, when you have met one autistic person, you have met one autistic person. But maybe you will see something of yourself in the following lines. 

Being autistic is holding your breath when you pass a person on the street so you don’t have to smell them. 

Being autistic is pretending that the way you dress is just your style, so intentional, instead of the only clothes you can bear to wear. Pretending that you don’t really want to dress nice.

A person, offering two options to choose from: a green apple in one hand, and a donut (with a bite-sized chunk missing) in the other.

You Have Been Thinking About Willpower Wrong

Mental health, ADHD

It has nothing to do with character. We often imagine that some people have a lot of willpower, while some have less. We judge people on this basis. That is a terrible oversimplification. The same person has varying amounts of willpower throughout their day and throughout their life. There aren’t weak-willed people, there are just weak-willed periods and moments. Everyone has them. And they don’t mean anything bad. It’s absolutely normal not to have 100% energy and motivation to charge into doing things all the time.

A Famous Blogger Asked Me if I “Should Use My AuDHD Diagnosis as a Shield”

A Famous Blogger Asked Me if I “Should Use My AuDHD Diagnosis as a Shield”

AuDHD, Neurodivergence

There is a Czech blogger that I respect a lot. She survived the death of her husband while pregnant with her third child, and she didn’t let this devastate her — she grew from it. She writes about spirituality, mental health, and an alternate lifestyle. She is an inspiring person. But lately, more and more, I find that my views on life sometimes clash with hers. Lately, she wrote a whole long Facebook post about autism. She wrote that psychiatric diagnoses have surged in recent years, and it seems that everyone has a diagnosis these days. And while understanding and support are crucial, we should question whether every case requires a diagnosis. I did connect to this post, and I really like the last part. I did worry (and I still do) if I’m letting the diagnosis override my identity as a person. But the discussion below bothered me.

When you have time blindness, you lose sense of time and often arrive late. Pictured is an asian woman surrounded wit hands holding an alarm clock

What Is Time Blindness and How to Deal With It

Neurodivergence, ADHD

You are running late. You are always running late and you don’t understand why. You woke up extra early, and yet you are late. Again. The stress and shame is eating at you. You desperately WANT to be on time, try to be on time, just to fail every time. People are angry at you. They think you are lazy and disrespectful. They don’t understand that you are angry at yourself too. That you are trying so hard. Everyone around you is able to show up on time, and you are not. Again and again, you try, you promise yourself you will do better, and you fail.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *