I had a pretty big “aha” moment recently. I realized that I haven’t been thriving, but have been stuck living in survival mode for a long time. For far too long, my days had a pretty specific pattern to them. I’d wake up and struggle to even get out of bed. I would spend at least an hour trying to work up the energy to get through the next few hours working. I would drag myself through my workday. Then I would come home and collapse. The next day I would repeat the pattern. I certainly wasn’t thriving in my life…I was surviving it. And for a while, that had become so comfortable that just surviving felt like enough. But it isn’t.
If you’re neurodivergent like me, you probably know that feeling. I learned early in my life how to mask, adapt, and work twice as hard just to convince the world that I was keeping up. And I got frighteningly good at flying under the radar.
But survival mode has a cost. And at some point, I started to wonder: Is this all there is?
What survival mode actually looks like
Survival mode doesn’t always look like chaos. Sometimes it looks like you have a spotless house because cleaning is the only thing that quiets the noise in your brain (I’ve definitely done this). Sometimes it looks like being the most reliable person in the room, because letting people down feels too dangerous (I definitely have done this…sometimes I still do). And sometimes it looks like I’m completely fine from the outside, when I’m hiding how much I’m struggling.
What’s going on inside? It’s exhausting. Every decision I make costs more than it should. I was always bracing for something to go wrong. You spend so much energy managing yourself that there’s nothing left over for the things you actually want.
For me, the turning point wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a breakdown. It was just a quiet Tuesday when I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something purely because I wanted to. I was so focused on being productive, or doing things because someone needed me to for so long. But I hadn’t done something just because it sounded good.
The weird, uncomfortable feeling of things getting better
It’s easy to want to be out of survival mode when you’ve spent so long just surviving. I certainly longed for some relief. But here’s something nobody really warns you about…moving out of survival mode doesn’t feel like relief right away. In fact, it feels strange. It’s pretty uncomfortable.
I spent so many years waiting for the other shoe to drop, and because of this, when a calm day came, it didn’t feel like rest. It felt like the calm before the storm. My nervous system had been running on high for so long that it didn’t quite know what to do with things being “okay.”
I remember the first time I had a whole weekend with no crises, no meltdowns, and no major sensory issues. I spent most of it anxious that I was forgetting something. It felt like there was something wrong that I was somehow missing. I guess it takes some time to get used to being in thriving mode.
What thriving actually feels like (for me, anyway)
Thriving doesn’t look the way I thought it would. I used to think it would feel like I was “fixed” and that I could finally relax. But that’s not really what happened.
Instead, it felt more like I had permission. Permission to stop pretending I was someone else and to say “this environment doesn’t work for me” without apologizing for it. Permission to build a life that fits my actual brain, not the neurotypical brain I was supposed to have.
For me, that meant doing some pretty practical things. I used noise-canceling headphones and had to learn not to be embarrassed about them. I adopted a work schedule that works for my natural rhythms instead of fighting them or trying to change them. And I started saying no to things that drain me, even when they’re “good opportunities.” I even let my house be a little messier when my energy is low so that my brain can be a little quieter. It’s amazing how much having permission to do even small things can ultimately make a big difference.
But with the small changes, I also made some bigger shifts. I had to learn to ask for what I need instead of white-knuckling through life, which is still something I struggle with from time to time. I also had to find people who get it and get me…not just tolerate me. I’m starting to trust, slowly, that I’m not too much.
It’s not linear, and it’s not permanent
I want to be honest about something: I still have survival-mode days. Weeks, sometimes. Especially when life gets extra busy, or throws curveballs my way. The difference is that they don’t feel like my whole life anymore. Yes, they feel like a rough patch, but now it’s something I’m moving through, not something I’m stuck in.
That shift in perspective is maybe the biggest sign of thriving for me. It’s not that everything is easier for me. But I’ve stopped treating the hard moments as proof that things will never get better.
If you’re still in survival mode right now, I’m not going to tell you to just think positive or push through. That’s not helpful, and you’ve probably already tried it. And honestly, that doesn’t exactly work well when you have a neurodivergent brain. What I will say is this: the fact that you’re still here, still adapting, and still figuring it out…that matters. Being in survival mode takes real skill. Thriving just gets to build on top of it. You’re not starting from zero. You never were.
