A prayer for people investigating their neurodivergence
Feb 21, 2022![](https://kajabi-storefronts-production.kajabi-cdn.com/kajabi-storefronts-production/blogs/2147508959/images/6NhvpCMZT0y6ZQgYds7H_ScreenShot2022-02-10at9.49.22AM.png)
Spirit of the living God
fall afresh on me
as I ask fresh questions of my life,
and seek out answers I’ve never sought before.
They say you made us by hand.
No machine or factory to mass produce humanity
which means you were there when my genes combined
when the alchemy of identity yielded one me,
in all eternity,
the first of my kind.
I’ve always felt different.
as though perhaps I came from a different planet
Dropped by accident
among a species so similar to me that no one can tell
from the outside
that I am not made of the same material.
![](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/61ef01727cc4253a354e0c45/8e8c808f-d4eb-44a5-8975-ffc3aed8fa47/Screen+Shot+2022-02-10+at+9.43.45+AM.png)
Did you switch up the fabric for me somehow?
Did you choose a different shade of clay
without ever revealing your sleight of hand?
Now I ask questions like “Is there a name for people like me?”
And comb lists of criteria, assembled in intimidating order
in the Diagnostic Statistical Manual
a new holy text over which I pour my identity.
Will I settle into a patterned flow?
Do the drops of my story combine into rivulets, creeks, rivers,
flowing into enough evidence to achieve that holy grail,
diagnosis?
![](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/61ef01727cc4253a354e0c45/90a6c7ce-e82c-4096-b97f-2ad0c4db102a/Screen+Shot+2022-02-10+at+9.49.22+AM.png)
The book is filled with words that sting
“Abnormal”
“Fixated”
“Fails”
“Careless”
“Severe”
“Excessive”
These words worm into my secret places, sitting alongside the tender ones I hold close
Beloved
Beautiful
Created
Desired
And yet I persist in my investigation, determined
desiring these labels to apply to me
because then I will know who I am
and who else in this great wide creation might be like me?
Is there a reason some things always feel so hard?
Is there a chance I’m not lazy, too little, too much, too broken, malformed, wrong?
My deepest longing
is to know me as you know me,
so I beg you to guide my search with your eyes of grace
that I can see my inner terrain, filled with your fingerprints
marks of the artist’s hand.
And if there is an Other Side for me
where I emerge, labeled, named,
may it be a homecoming to myself, a blessed resolution to a lifetime of lostness
a new beginning
with a new tribe
of fellow wanderers
who get what it is like
to be crafted from a different shade of cloth.
Quiz: "Why is everything so hard?"
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