Full Circle: Why Am I Like This? (Revisited)
Over the past few weeks, I’ve written about desk disasters, social media exhaustion, monotropism whirlpools, and the absolute absurdity of “just rest” advice when you have AuDHD burnout brain. Different stories, same theme: me, bumbling through life with this weird combination of stubbornness, constant chaos, and organized budgets and dinner and cleaning schedules.
And honestly? Every single post circles back to the same question I keep asking myself daily: Why am I like this?
The Greatest Hits of “Why Am I Like This?”
The Tree Incident. I once decided to cut down a tree with nothing but a pole saw, an old garden hose, and Bud’s questionable encouragement. OSHA was not consulted. The back of Bud’s head was not amused. It’s funny now, but then…not so much.
The Desk Disaster. Pivoted a folding table without checking if the legs were secure. Nearly took myself out. 0/10, would not recommend.
The Social Media Spiral. Spent weeks planning content calendars, batching Canva graphics, and listening to “beat the algorithm” podcasts… only to rage-quit the entire thing when my third reel got three pity likes (again, hi, Mom).
The Rest Debacle. Tried to “just rest.” Ended up reorganizing pens, deep-cleaning the sink, and watching productivity hacks I’ll never implement. My nervous system does not do “stillness.”
The Notebook Hoard. I own 37+ notebooks and counting. Use two. Guard the rest like they’re priceless works of art. Why? No one knows.
The Surgery Dinner. Cooked dinner for my family the same day I had major surgery. Not because I’m noble. Because apparently that’s how my brain defines rest.
On paper, it looks ridiculous. In real life? It is ridiculous. But it’s also deeply familiar to anyone living with a brain that refuses to read the unwritten manual.
The Joke Underneath the Joke
Here’s the thing: when I say “why am I like this?” it’s not just about clumsiness, or chaos, or bad timing. It’s shorthand for a whole history of being told I was lazy, spoiled, messy, too much, not enough.
It’s shorthand for the way my autistic brain latches onto hyperfocus and forgets the rest of the world exists.
It’s shorthand for my ADHD brain that insists, start this right now or it will vanish forever.
It’s shorthand for my dyspraxic body, which treats physical space like a booby-trapped obstacle course. It’s shorthand for my PDA wiring, which laughs in the face of “just do it” advice—including “just rest.”
And, if I’m being honest, which I usually am to a fault, it’s shorthand for someone who will never ever EVER be comfortable in this world, but who refuses to give up.
So yes, I play it for humor. But underneath the sarcasm is the reality: my brain and body do not operate according to the standard operating manual. And trying to force myself into those molds is the quickest way to burnout.
Finding the Pattern
If I zoom out, all these stories—trees, desks, notebooks, algorithms, failed naps—are data points. They’re proof of a pattern I can’t ignore:
I learn by breaking, not by planning.
I thrive in hyperfocus, until I don’t.
I seek control, but also crave chaos.
I mistake collapse for rest, then call it a lesson.
I laugh at myself because if I don’t, I’ll cry.
And maybe the point isn’t to fix it. Maybe the point is to notice it, name it, and use it.
Reframing the Question
Another truth: No matter how much I write, create, advise others, I’ll probably never stop asking “why am I like this?” But what if the follow-up isn’t shame—it’s curiosity?
Why am I like this? Because I see possibilities where others see limitations.
Why am I like this? Because I rearrange rooms until they collapse—and in doing so, discover new ways of being in them.
Why am I like this? Because I hyperfocus until my brain short-circuits—and sometimes, that same intensity produces art, writing, or connections that change everything.
Why am I like this? Because I redefine “rest” as spreadsheets, crafts, or cleaning. And while it doesn’t look restful, it resets me enough to keep going. And isn’t that what we’re all trying to do? Just keep going.
Full Circle
So here we are, back at the beginning.
Why am I like this?
Because I’m wired differently. Because my life is equal parts chaotic and creativity and structure. Because sometimes my coping looks like collapse, and sometimes it looks like genius. Because I’ve learned to laugh at myself, even when I don’t feel funny, which is more often than not.
And because I know I’m NOT the only one.
If you’ve ever looked at your own quirks, your chaos, your “oops I did it again” moments and thought, why am I like this?—welcome. You’re in the right place.
Tell me: what’s your “why am I like this” moment this week? Let’s compare notes. Let’s laugh, cry, and maybe even learn something from each other.
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About the Author
Gal is an autistic artist, late-diagnosed at 49, and the creator of AuRTistic Expressions—a space where neurodivergent truth meets creative survival. Through blog posts, printables, courses, and the “This Might Get Messy” podcast, Gal explores what it means to unmask safely, communicate authentically, and make art that doesn’t ask for permission. Stick around—there’s plenty more where this came from.
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Cover photo courtesy of dyspraxia.
