Running with a broken leg, pt 1
I started a micro book because writing an entire book at once seems very daunting. Not that I lack the experiences to articulate, but it’s very easy for me to become overwhelmed and overly stimulated when I venture into doing something new and exciting.
Since I can remember, that’s always been my normal. To have anxiety, to be so utterly conflicted on taking the first step that usually I just crash out and don’t do anything.
Talking to my mom brought a greater realization to who I am, how I react, and where all of this stems from – my childhood, my inner child.
You see, I am well on my way to 30 but my inner child is still stuck During moments where she felt scared, unsure, and lacked the tools to help her navigate uncertainty.
Sometimes you don’t realize you’re struggling - because struggling is all you’ve ever known.
This is for the ones who learned how to run before anyone notice the limp. 🤍
Living with ADHD and executive dysfunction often feels like running with a broken leg—painful, exhausting, yet somehow necessary to keep moving forward. Many of us grow up unaware of the specific challenges we face, simply learning to cope with a mix of anxiety, overstimulation, and self-doubt that can be traced back to our childhoods. What truly resonates is how our bodies sometimes remember before our minds do. For me, anxiety isn’t just a thought—it’s a physical reaction, a panic that can be triggered by a sound or scent, lingering long after the immediate moment passes. This somatic experience is something many with ADHD relate to but is often misunderstood in mainstream conversations. Growing up, I was prescribed medications that were supposed to normalize my behavior, but my mother chose to decline them, fearing they would dull my true self. Instead, I’ve come to see my neurodivergence not as a defect, but as a form of brilliance—a unique wiring that, while coming with challenges, also bestows superpowers like intense focus, creativity, and resilience. Accepting my inner child—still stuck in moments of fear and uncertainty—has been transformative. Acknowledging that the struggle is real and pervasive, and that it’s OK to sometimes stumble, has allowed me to take steps toward healing without judgment. For anyone who’s ever masked their difficulties or learned to run before anyone noticed the limp, this journey offers solidarity and hope. If you find yourself overwhelmed by starting something new or paralyzed by anxiety, know you’re not alone. Taking things one small step or one micro project at a time can reduce that overwhelming feeling. Writing this micro book became my refuge—a way to articulate experiences without the pressure of creating a comprehensive work all at once. It’s also a reminder that progress doesn’t have to be perfect; moving forward despite the limps and bruises counts as victory. In embracing neurodiversity, it’s important to challenge the stigmas around ADHD and executive dysfunction and recognize that these are complex conditions with many nuances. They don’t define us but are part of the tapestry of our identity. With community, understanding, and patience, we can turn our so-called weaknesses into sources of strength and creative power.