The Synchronicity Journey Begins

It was in one such place that my synchronicity journey began.

I am neurodivergent

Does that mean I am abnormal?

Life spun out of rhythm. I could not eat. I could not sleep. Then the opposite arrived. I ate too much. I slept too long. My body moved between extremes with no pattern I could understand. One day I felt useless.

I kept asking the same question.

Why can life not return to the way it was before?

Back to normal.

Then a quiet thought entered my mind.

Was my life ever normal, or did I spend years believing in an idea of normal I had invented?

A diagnosis changes the room the moment it enters. You can feel it. Tell someone you have OCD, ADHD, and Autism. Watch their face shift. Only seconds before, they saw an intelligent person with talents and dreams. Then a label drops over your head like a curtain.

Crazy.

Unstable.

Unreliable.

People step back.

Friends who once sat across from you at dinner tables drift away. They gather with the people they call normal.

I began to ask myself a painful question.

Did they ever know me at all?

If they did, where did they go?

I sit with another question as well. One that lingers.

If I had been diagnosed with a terminal illness, would they have left? Or would they have stood beside me and cheered while I fought toward recovery?

I do not know. Only they know the answer.

What I do know is this.

Some of the most extraordinary people I have met walked beside me inside psychiatric wards and outpatient groups. These were not broken people. These were people with depth. People with fierce intelligence. People with tenderness and compassion that ran through them like an underground river.

They listened.

They cared.

They helped one another stand back up.

And in those quiet rooms I began to notice something. A strange and beautiful truth. The people the world labeled neurodivergent often possessed a level of awareness many others never reach. They felt life in a way that cut through the surface of things. They noticed the subtleties. The emotions in a room. The small tremors of human experience most people rush past.

It made me pause.

It made me wonder.

What is normal?

If someone like Albert Einstein walked into a room today, would people recognize a brilliant mind, or would they whisper behind his back and call him strange?

History is full of people who did not fit inside society’s neat little box labeled normal.

Maybe normal has always been an illusion. A social agreement we all pretend to understand.

My journey forced me to stand outside that illusion and examine it. I began to see something clearly. The very things that set us apart are often what makes us extraordinary.

Sensitivity. Intensity. Imagination. Deep feeling. Wild curiosity about the human experience.

These traits do not fit comfortably inside the tidy box society calls normal.

And perhaps they were never meant to.

Today when I hear the word normal, I pause. I tilt my head a little. I examine the word the way one studies a strange object found on the ground.

Normal according to who?

Normal according to what story?

Because from where I stand now, after walking through the fire and sitting in rooms with some of the most perceptive souls I have ever met, I see something different.

I see human beings trying to understand a complicated world.

Some of us simply feel it more deeply.