“The Attributes of Becoming Me”

 

“The Attributes of Becoming Me”

I thought I was magic.

Witch - born.

Star - touched.

Reading signs in black cats

and rainbows

and sparks in the air.

But it wasn’t magic.

It was my brain —

wired loud,

wired bright,

wired to feel everything

as if it’s happening to me.

Every film,

every tear,

every heartbreak

that wasn’t mine

but still felt like it was.

I saw patterns everywhere —

not because the universe whispered,

but because my mind

connects dots

like constellations.

And my “witchy friends”?

Just my people.

My pack.

Brains tuned to the same frequency,

hearts turned up too high,

empathy spilling over the edges.

Growing up without Google,

without guidance,

you learn your own rulebook.

You survive on instinct,

on hope,

on believing the ending

will be good.

But midlife hits

and suddenly the truth lands:

It wasn’t magic.

It was autism.

It was ADHD. (audhd)

Not superpowers —

but still mine.

Now I’m learning.

Researching.

Naming the things

that shaped me.

Balancing my scales —

one side full

for the first time,

the other holding

everything I thought I was.

And somewhere between them

is the real me —

finally understood,

finally seen,

finally whole.