neurodivergentlife

Intro

One of the best parts of being autistic is having special interests—the things I love with my whole heart, with an intensity most people don’t understand. Special interests aren’t hobbies. They aren’t phases. They aren’t just passing interests. They are passion, comfort, and joy. They are home.

The Joy (and Intensity) of Special Interests

People who aren’t autistic often mistake special interests for hobbies.
But special interests aren’t the same thing as liking something.
They are deeper. More consuming. They have weight.

When a neurotypical person says, “I’m really into tennis,” it means they play sometimes or enjoy watching it. When an autistic person says, “I love something,” it often means, I will spend hours, sometimes days, completely absorbed by it. I will think about it constantly. I will fall into it with my entire self, because it lights me up in a way nothing else does.

Special interests have always been part of my life.
Some have stuck with me for years. Others come and go, rotating, jumping, shifting.
But the intensity is always real.

Here are some of mine: Kendrick Lamar. Shania Twain. Hip-hop music in general. History. Classic rock. Fashion. Art. The law. Education systems. Cats. Feminism. Flowers and plants. Books. Notre Dame football. Pi Beta Phi. Social justice. Writing. And honestly so many more. In one of my autism books I have read to help me learn more about autism there is a couple pages in the chapter on “autistic special interests” that lists a long list of different special interests; I literally remember checking almost every single one on the list as one of my special interests even though I really tried not to do just that. Anyways..

I love these things the way a person loves oxygen. I can fall into them for hours and not want to come back.
I can skip meals. I can forget to use the bathroom, or purposefully hold it in for as long as I physically can until I find myself running to the bathroom. I can lose time.

There are days when, on the outside, it looks like I’ve done nothing. But in reality, I’ve spent hours researching one thing, then another, then another, jumping from thought to thought in a way that feels completely natural to me. That’s what happens when autism and ADHD live together inside the same brain.

Sometimes people think the ADHD ruins the “purity” of my special interests because I bounce around, because I don’t always stick with them forever. But the truth is, they don’t have to last to matter. The joy is real even when it’s temporary.

There’s something I hold onto that my dad told me over ten years ago when I was still in college. He said, “You have too many ideas.”
And he was right. I do. I have too many ideas. And that’s okay.

For a long time, I thought I was supposed to act on every single one. I thought I was supposed to become an expert, an encyclopedia, a living archive of every topic that captured my heart. But I’ve learned that I can let myself have too many ideas. I can let them live and fade and come back and evolve. I don’t have to finish everything I start. I don’t have to know everything. I don’t have to feel disappointed in myself for being pulled toward too many things.

Having too many ideas is part of who I am. It’s not a flaw. It’s a pulse.

Special Interests Aren’t Always Practical

Sometimes my special interests pull me into situations that are chaotic or hard to explain.

There was a day I was working at a law firm, doing reception and assistant tasks. I was supposed to be finishing something for the lawyer I worked for, but there was a snake plant in the office that caught my attention.

It didn’t really need to be repotted. But I couldn’t stop myself. I got distracted, started messing with the plant, and before I knew it, I was fully, aggressively repotting it in the middle of the office. Dirt was everywhere. It got all over my dress. I was sweating like crazy. I knew I should stop, but I couldn’t. The pull was too strong.

The task I was supposed to finish? Never got done.

I’m sure the lawyer and my coworkers thought I was out of my mind. And honestly? It’s kind of funny now. But it’s also real.

This is what special interests can do. They can take over. They can call your full attention whether it makes sense in the moment or not. And that’s not something to apologize for—it’s something to understand.

What I Wish People Knew

Special interests aren’t obsessions in the way people often mean when they use that word.
They aren’t distractions.
They aren’t problems to be managed.

They are anchors. They are comfort. They are joy. They are windows into the world. They are how I fall in love with life over and over again.

Sometimes people want to shame autistic people for being “too intense” or “too much” about the things we love. I wish people knew that the intensity is what makes it beautiful. I wish people knew that this is how we connect to ourselves. I wish people knew that sometimes, when the world is too fast, too loud, and too painful, a special interest is the thing that saves us.

Please don’t tell us we’re too much. Please don’t roll your eyes. Please don’t call it weird.

Let us love what we love.

Special interests don’t make life smaller. They make life big enough to hold us.

A person sitting on the floor next to several plant pots, surrounded by dirt and plant debris, with a focused expression, indicating engagement in repotting plants.

Part of the “Unmasking, One Post at a Time” series

Content Note:
This post explores masking, self-awareness, and the quiet moments of learning to be real. If you’re currently in a hard place with identity or self-acceptance, please take care while reading.

I used to think unmasking would be one big, dramatic moment.

Like a grand reveal. A breaking point. A phoenix rising.
And sometimes, it is.

But most days?
It’s much quieter than that.

It’s not wearing makeup when I don’t want to.
It’s asking, “Can you say that more directly?” instead of pretending I understood.
It’s sitting how I actually want to sit, even if it looks “weird.”
It’s saying no to a hangout, not because I’m busy—but because I don’t want to go.
It’s admitting I need more time, or quiet, or clarity.
It’s not faking a laugh when I didn’t get the joke.
It’s pausing.
It’s stimming.
It’s choosing softness instead of performance.

I still mask.

Let’s be clear—I still do it.
Because this world isn’t always safe for neurodivergent folks.
Because unmasking doesn’t mean suddenly being “free”—
It means slowly, carefully learning which parts of yourself deserve protection and which ones are finally safe to let out.

The mask slips off in layers.

Sometimes it clings.
Sometimes I peel it off only to reach for it again five minutes later.
But other times—I forget I even had it on.

And those are the best moments.

📝 Poem: I Didn’t Mean to Wear It

I didn’t mean to wear it—
the smile, the nod, the soft yes
when my body said no.
It’s stitched into me sometimes,
automatic,
like muscle memory.

But today—
I caught it halfway on.
I paused.
And let the silence speak
instead of the mask.

That’s a win.
That’s a whisper of healing.
That’s me.

🪞 A Memory

A few days ago, I was at the grocery store and someone I vaguely knew from high school waved.
She asked how I was.
And I almost did it.
The default: “Great!” with a grin, head tilt, eyes wide.

But instead, I shrugged a little.
“Honestly? Been better. But I’m okay.”
And just like that, the interaction felt human. Not scripted.
She smiled back—genuinely.
We didn’t force a conversation.
We just… existed next to each other for a moment.
And that felt good. Real.

This week, I noticed I didn’t fake a smile in a conversation where I used to.

I didn’t force small talk.
I didn’t interrupt myself with apologies.
I caught myself, and I let myself stay real.
Not perfect. Just real.

And that’s enough for now.

🌀 Reflection Questions:

What does unmasking look like for you right now?
Can you remember a moment this week where you were fully yourself, even just for a second?
What would it feel like to unmask just 5% more in one part of your day?

Tags:
#Unmasking #NeurodivergentLife #AutismAcceptance #BeingReal #SelfDiscovery #MentalHealth #MaskingAndUnmasking #EverydayCourage