Like most of us, I was largely unaware of neurodiversity until an autoimmune diagnosis at 36. Until then, I had simply assumed everyone experienced the frequencies and emotions of others the same way I did. It took several years into my healing journey before the pieces finally clicked into place.

The awakening I had experienced at 17 was far more profound than what my friends described after encountering DMT. It wasn’t merely enlightenment, but my self coming online. Back then, I had no language for healing or kundalini energy, so I concluded there was something wrong with me — that I was too sensitive, too fragile to handle what was happening.

If I had understood neurodivergence at the time — that different nervous systems require different approaches, that unique wiring calls for unique paths — I might not have buried this story for twenty years. Shame kept it hidden: the discovery of my gifts arriving through a then-obscure scheduled shamanic medicine felt like proof I was broken, not blessed.