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Somehow I feel like it’s very Autistic of me that I actually had a debate with myself about whether I was a round peg or a square peg and whether my hole of a life has been square or round. I think round peg, square hole captures my experience. Remember that old saying, “be there or be square?”

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(Also, why does the punctuation always go inside the quotation marks at the end of a sentence – that just really bothers me! It’s like, the quotation is inside the sentence and the punctuation marks the end of the sentence, so why would we put the quotation outside as if the punctuation is part of the quote?! Anyways, I digress.)

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I didn’t know this until much later, but the implication of “be[ing] square” is that you’re boring. Well, guess what, world! I’m not boring! It turns out, the world is incredibly boring and I actually like being different. My whole life I’ve always wanted to believe I was different and unique because I thought I was the most boring person on the planet. I guess maybe that was my subconscious protecting me from realizing I was actually, in fact, very different.

I never considered that I’m very not-boring. I wasn’t the cool kid, I didn’t have a lot of friends, I wasn’t always quick and witty. I’m slow, I’m deliberate, and I’m intensely thoughtful when I speak or act. Even now, in my current job as a professor, I still feel rushed all the time. I’m at the pinnacle of the profession of “thinking,” – I’ve had the most training you can possibly get in this stuff – and I still manage to underperform. Or so it seems.

It’s funny to think that my whole life I’ve been so worried that I was ordinary when I’ve only ever been anything but. Kind of reminds me of Avril Lavigne’s song, “Anything But Ordinary.”

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I’ve been shoved into this square hole for so long that it’s incredibly painful to try to remove myself from it. But there’s also this feeling that once I’m removed from it, I’ll actually feel so much better. Kind of like the feeling of finally having a splinter removed from your skin – instant relief.

Sadly, I think cramming myself into this square hole for so long has actually shaved off some of my sides and I’m not sure if I can replace them. Will they just be scars of trauma (can I even say that I’ve experienced trauma?) or can I glue some of the pieces back on and be myself again?

I’ve spent so long slowly shaving off my sides and cramming myself into the square hole that I don’t really know anything else anymore. As a high-masking individual who was extremely successful at what I was doing, I sometimes feel like a giant void of a person. I made myself small, I made myself think the way they wanted me to, I didn’t ask questions, and I just accepted the path before me.

Bachelor’s degree to master’s degree to doctoral degree to professor. No questions asked. You did a great job, here’s your very own office and your very own classes and your very own students. And your very own [neurodivergent] problems – but keep those to yourself.

I don’t think they expected me to resurrect myself from the grave of my past. I don’t think they knew what they signed up for when they hired me. I didn’t know what I’d signed up for when they hired me. But here I am, world. Ready or not, here I come.

I don’t know what it means to try to be a professor while also being neurodivergent in a highly personal field, but let’s see what happens. Maybe I’ll find myself again somewhere along the way.

~dr. b