Day 25 — I think I am tired of just surviving

This year started out intense for me. After some big neurodivergence realisations, just getting through the day was a struggle. Everything felt so loud and bright.

From what I’ve read, this kind of regression is common. When you stop gaslighting yourself and pretending everything is fine when it clearly isn’t, your true experience can become all-consuming for a while. Situations that were once manageable suddenly aren’t anymore.

It felt like being invaded by sensations. No filter, no shell. Sounds, lights, smells, clothes digging into my skin… it just didn’t stop. I felt constantly on edge, unsafe in my own body.

Thankfully, I already had a few tools—earplugs, a heating pad, sunglasses—to soften the worst of it. But I wasn’t able to do much. I felt like I could sleep for a hundred years.

German fairytales and sleeping princesses aside, staying that depleted forever wasn’t an option. After I got back to China, I made a simple decision: do what I can, and invest the rest of my energy into recovery.

Every morning, I went for a walk in the park and got a coffee. No matter what. I also shifted my diet toward the most nourishing foods I could find. If a postpartum woman would want it, so did I.

Slowly, something changed. My spirits began to return. I wasn’t freezing all the time anymore.

I’m still not fully there, but things have stabilised enough to give me some headspace again. Enough to think about what I actually need going forward. I know I want more support—I just don’t fully know what that looks like yet. I suppose I’ll have to find out by trying.

There have also been moments—small, but real—where my sensitivity feels like a gift. When everything turns into Technicolor. Soft fabric between my fingers. The heat of a shower or bath. Pure, uncomplicated pleasure.

And that makes me wonder about design. About the things I want to make. About whether this way of experiencing the world—something I resisted for so long—might actually push me further.

Maybe we spend so much energy trying to fit in that we forget to explore what actually brings us joy.

Can we flip that script?

Can stimming be play?

Maybe we’re not the only ones who would benefit from tools that create more ease—and more pleasure—in everyday life.

You don’t have to suffer to prove your worth. An icy shower doesn’t make you a better person. If you enjoy it, great. If not, that’s just as valid. We attach so much unnecessary moral weight to what are, in the end, just preferences.

Is there a side of your nervous system you’d like to explore more? What might that look like for you?

I’d be curious to hear.

I hope you are well, wherever you are
Celine