We’ve Lost the Plot — and Some of Us Feel It Twice as Hard

On masking, meaning, and the quiet grief of waking up inside a society asleep

Let’s be honest: we’ve lost the damn plot.

And by “we,” I mean society. American culture in 2025 is one long fever dream.
War is content. Elections are game shows. Climate collapse gets a vibe check and a Canva infographic.

We’re watching the end of empire livestreamed in high-def—and we’re supposed to keep grocery shopping and reporting on our silly little KPI’s like it’s all fine.

This is the dissonance we’re living in.
And it’s burning people out from the inside.

But if you’re a late-diagnosed neurodivergent woman?
You might be feeling it even harder.

Being a neurodivergent woman waking up to herself in a world that’s falling apart is disorienting.

It’s like finally fixing your glasses in the middle of a house fire.

The Grief After the Diagnosis

Getting diagnosed with ADHD in adulthood gave me language. Gave me context.
Gave me permission to stop white-knuckling my way through every broken system.

But it also cracked open a deep, inconvenient grief.

Grief for all the years I thought I was just lazy or chaotic or too much.
Grief for the masking, the code-switching, the performative “normal.”
Grief for the girl I used to be—smart as hell but always second-guessing her wiring.

Now I see it all more clearly. The patterns. The lies. The cost of surviving in a world that only rewards you if you contort.

And clarity is a bitch.

Because once you see the systems that gaslit you, you can’t unsee them.
And you definitely can’t go back to pretending they’re neutral.

Living Awake in a Culture That’s Asleep

Try healing while capitalism whispers, “You sure you’re not just lazy?”
Try resting in a culture that only values you when you’re producing.
Try feeling anything real when everyone else is performing “authenticity” on LinkedIn.

The tension is real. And relentless.

You want to be real—but not too real.
You want to unmask—but not in a way that freaks people out.
You want to exist—but in a way that doesn’t make the normies uncomfortable.

So you double-mask. You hide the rage. You hide the brilliance.
You hide the work it takes just to be here.

And still—you’re here. You’re literally doing the thing and making shit happen. RIGHT NOW.

If You’re Feeling This:

You’re not broken.
You’re not “too sensitive.”
You’re not imagining things.

You’re just awake in a world that’s built to stay asleep.
And it hurts because you’re finally seeing clearly.

There’s grief in that.
But there’s power too.

And you’re not alone.

P.S. New here? Welcome to the rebellion, babes. We're the difficult ones who won't shut up about the intersection of power, politics, and gender.

Labeled 'too much' by those who are so clearly NOT ENOUGH — we're reclaiming the power and knowledge they gaslit us into forgetting we already have.