For nearly four decades, I lived in a world that felt like it was dialed to a volume I wasn't supposed to hear. Growing up, I was the girl with "so much potential." It’s a phrase that sounds like a compliment, but to a neurodivergent child, it feels like a looming debt you can never quite repay.

Whenever I reacted to the world around me, I was met with the same labels: "Drama Queen". "Blowing things out of proportion". "Sensitive". I was told I was too loud, too intense, and too much.

The Irony of the "Young Achiever"

My parents, desperate to help me "focus" and take my schoolwork seriously, sent me to an after-school program called Young Achievers. It was designed to build academic discipline, but there was one glaring problem: it wasn't stimulating. My brain didn't need more "discipline", it needed a reason to care. I sat there, bored to tears, failing at the very thing meant to make me an "achiever." It turns out, you can’t "focus" your way out of a brain that requires interest-based dopamine to function.

The Sensory Battlefield

Home wasn't always a sanctuary; sometimes, it was a sensory minefield. I spent my childhood in a state of low-grade internal combustion because of sounds and smells that no one else seemed to notice. My brother sucking his teeth was like a physical blow to my nervous system. The "solution" to bathroom odors (spraying air freshener) was even worse. It would lead to explosive fights because I couldn't explain that the smell wasn't just "strong", it was suffocating. I wasn't being difficult, I was being overstimulated.

Caring "Too Much" in a World that Brushes Things Off

This "too muchness" extended to my soul. I’ve always been the one who cares deeply about the things everyone else brushes off. I have a fierce need for processes, for the rules to be followed, and for things to be right (hello, Justice Sensitivity!). In my world, a bent rule isn't a shortcut, it's a crack in the foundation. This led to heavy disagreements with people who didn't understand why I couldn't just "let it go."

Then there was the Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD). Knowing friends went out together without me didn't just hurt, it felt like a total exile. I spent years searching for a sense of belonging that always seemed just out of reach.

Reclaiming the "Too Much"

It wasn't until I reached adulthood and met my husband that I finally found a soft place to land, a place where I didn't have to mask the intensity of my world. He let me be me. However, he is also AuDHD so this acceptance swings both ways.

At 39, the diagnosis finally gave me the "why." At 40, I am finished apologising. That "potential" everyone talked about? I’m finally using it on my terms. My "too muchness" is no longer a burden, it is my greatest strength. It’s why I’m excellent at my work, why I’m a deeply devoted mother, and why I take life seriously. I am Tarryn Roberts, I am AuDHD, and I am exactly the right amount of "much."

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Love, T xx