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Christopher Spicer
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“You don’t seem autistic and ADHD.”
I hear that more often than you’d think. And I get it — from the outside, I seem fine. Maybe even charming, outgoing, and capable. But here’s the truth: what you see is the polished stage show. What you don’t see is the exhausting, complicated production behind it.
Let me pull back the curtain.
🎭 Oscar-Worthy Masking
I’ve spent 47 years pretending to be what people expect. I force eye contact even though it feels unnatural. I fake interest in small talk. I rehearse my “appropriate responses” like lines in a play. I nod along and act like I caught what you just said, even if I didn’t process a word of it. That’s not connection — that’s survival.
🔥 Hyperfocus Spotlight
When I’m performing, storytelling, or sharing my passions, I light up. That’s real. But it’s also my special interest, letting me step into a ‘character’ who can get by in a world that often overwhelms me. The enthusiasm isn’t fake, but the ease you think you see? That’s part of the act.
🕳️ The Social Vanishing Act
One minute I’m the life of the party. Next, I’m quiet, drained, or gone. That’s the cost of keeping up the performance. The energy runs out without warning.
💥 The “Christopher’s Duh” Face
If I go blank mid-conversation, it isn’t because I’m rude or bored. It’s because my brain just hit a sensory overload or executive dysfunction wall. I’m trying to reboot.
🚀 Emotional Overdrive
If you’ve ever seen me overreact to something that seemed small, you’ve witnessed my AuDHD brain on emotional hyperdrive. Little things can hit big.
💔 Rejection Sensitivity Spiral
That time that I assumed you hated me because of a comment or a look? That’s rejection-sensitive dysphoria at work. I’ve thought or said, “You don’t hate me, right?” to nearly everyone I care about. It’s exhausting for me, but probably for you too.
🔁 The Repeat Button
If I ask the same thing six times in ten minutes, I promise I’m not trying to annoy you. It’s my working memory glitching under stress. I either have working memory failing, or my brain is just not processing at the moment.
⚔️ The Invisible War
My decades of anxiety and depression? A lot of that comes from years of trying to “fix” myself, instead of learning to work with my AuDHD brain. It’s a daily battle to unlearn that shame.
📝 The Invisible Script
Before I head into social settings, I’m mentally rehearsing conversations. I try to prepare for every possible interaction, so I don’t fall apart on the spot. It’s like carrying a cheat sheet for being human.
🌪️ Sensory Chaos Battle
While you’re talking, my brain is registering everything from the fridge humming, the dog barking, the clatter of dishes, the fan’s whir, the scratch of my shirt tag. And at the same time, I’m juggling 30 other thoughts. And still trying to register your words.
🧠 Brain vs. Demands
Sometimes even simple requests — from you, from myself — make my brain want to shut down. The demand feels too big, even if it shouldn’t.
🛏️ Meltdown Hideouts
The big crashes? I save those for when I’m alone. I retreat to my room, close the door, and let the weight of it all out where no one can see.
🌧️ Mood Mystery
Sometimes I wake up sad for no clear reason and stew on it all day. Other times, I wake up feeling great, and then spend the day stressed, trying to hold on to the mood.
🎯 Perfectionism Trap
I stall out on projects because they don’t feel good enough to finish. All or nothing. Success or failure with no middle ground. It’s not fun, but it’s how my brain is wired.
⏳ Time Vortexes
If I’mbeen late, it’s often because I lost hours to hyperfocus, while life piled up around me. I didn’t mean to disappear. Time just got slippery.
So, when someone says, “You don’t seem autistic and ADHD,” know that what you don’t see is a universe of effort, chaos, and resilience behind the scenes.
I’m not broken. I’m just working with a brain that doesn’t fit the standard mold. And I’m learning step by step on how to be okay with that.
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I am a writer, so I write. When I am not writing, I will eat candy, drink beer, and destroy small villages.
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