I never felt I belonged or fitted in.

My grandmother once told me I was “different.” It must have been the way she said it, because she made it feel like something good. I am grateful for that.

She gave me a doll that was very different from the ones she gave my sister and cousins. Mine was a black doll. I loved her. One of her eyes was broken, showing only the white of the eye. She said she gave it to me because I was different. She knew I would like it

At school, I wasn’t like the other girls, and I didn’t want to be. But I did want to be accepted. I wanted friends who stayed, who didn’t tease or let me down. Instead, I was bullied. One girl called me “rats tails” because I hated brushing my hair. It was long and often a bit scruffy, but brushing it every day felt unbearable. I didn’t want it cut either. I just wanted to be left as I was.

That feeling of being on the outside followed me for a long time. I found comfort in my animals, in quiet connection that didn’t require me to explain myself.

Then I met boys, and my life changed. I stepped into being a wife, a mother, a homemaker, but in my own way. I was still a child myself, figuring everything out as I went. I made mistakes. I never quite settled into any role in the way others seemed to. But we had adventures, because I was never someone who could stay in one place for very long.

Looking back, I can see I was always searching. Not for belonging, but for understanding.

That search led me down unexpected paths, including time spent with African tribes, where I experienced trance dance. There was something deeply familiar in it. The way the body moved, the way the mind shifted, the way difference was not something to hide but something that opened a doorway into another state of being. It felt like a language I had always known but never been taught.

Maturity came as a kind of reprieve. Not because life suddenly became easy, but because I began to understand myself more honestly. I started to explore what it means to live a neurodivergent life. I learned when to adapt and when not to. I stopped trying to force myself into shapes that were never meant for me.

More than anything, I learned to accept myself, not from pity or victimhood, but from a clear and grounded understanding of how my mind works. What once felt like separation, I now see as part of my creativity, my intuition, and my way of moving through the world.

The way I think and act might seem unusual to others, if they get close enough to notice, but it is the only way I know. It is also the way that has allowed me to survive.

And more than survive, to live a life that is rich in its own way.

I am deeply grateful to those who have met me along the way, those who try to understand my quirks. Perhaps because, in some ways, we recognise something of ourselves in each other. The same, but different.

Embracing difference is essential if we are ever to truly connect. Not as an idea, but in practice. Letting go of the expectation that one way fits all. Allowing people to be who they are, even when we do not fully understand them.

Because difference is not something to fix. It is something to listen to.

If this resonates with you, I share more on my podcast, A Neurodivergent Soul. I would love to hear your story too.

You can visit the podcast here: https://shows.acast.com/how-to-find-our-soul-purpose

Or on my new YouTube platform here: https://www.youtube.com/@CarolineCarey-NeuroSoul

Caroline,

May 2026