Resilience is not an inherent trait – it’s built through constant trials and tribulations that push you close to a breaking point, forcing you to learn how to adapt and eventually overcome any challenge that life throws at you.

I had to learn this the hard way.

When I was a little kid, I had unending intrusive thoughts about a whole host of topics, ones that I devoted almost all my energy to fighting nearly every day. This caused me to act in weird ways. 

I wouldn’t initiate social interactions for fear of letting my concentration slip and I’d gravitate towards certain topics that would put my mind at ease. Even if someone started talking to me, my attention would be heavily divided between that and asserting control over my own mind to the point where I struggled to make proper eye contact. My teachers and doctor caught on and started to suspect that I might have some sort of disorder. 

Despite some initial suspicions, nobody was really able to pin down what I had for years. I was cleared of autism pretty early on because I didn’t overstimulate or fit the diagnostic criteria. Despite suspicions of ADHD, no medication had the desired effect of quieting my mind. No matter what disorder was suggested, I would never fit the diagnosis enough for anyone to say I had it.

It wasn’t until I got treatment for an unrelated illness in third or fourth grade that anyone could pin anything down.

When I took the medicine for this unrelated illness, my mind began to clear up. While I would still act up, I was able to think clearly and communicate more effectively. My teacher even reported that I had suddenly started making eye contact as if I had done it like normal for my whole life. 

My reaction to the medication got my doctor thinking, and she eventually discovered that I didn’t have a disorder — I had a disease. Somehow, I was experiencing a rare allergic reaction to strep that had been affecting my brain. Though symptomatically similar to a lot of disorders, it was different in one crucial way — it could be treated and made to go away permanently with enough time and effort.

Throughout middle school and into early high school, I fought my own thoughts day in and day out, refusing to give an inch to what I now know was an illness. The progress was slow and hampered by a lack of effective treatment. I pushed through all the same, knowing that my only other choice was to surrender to the harmful thoughts inside my head. It hurt more than I thought possible, but I was too resolute to quit.

Eventually, I succeeded.

One day, after years of painful treatment, antibiotics and fighting, the disease finally dissipated, and the intrusive thoughts, already dying, were finally silenced. My immune system finally figured out how to end it for good. 

For the first time that I could remember, I was in full control of my thought process, standing triumphant over the great beast that had plagued me throughout my life. Perhaps, I thought, I could finally be able to live the normal life that I had desired for so long.

I had no such luck.

Although I was totally in control, the years of fighting had left me rather awkward socially. I had the basics all internalized, but my speech pattern was slightly off and I was still expecting intrusive thoughts to ambush me at any moment. Though I picked up on my problems quickly and made a lot of improvements over just a few short years, my social life in high school took a long time to come online.

Nowadays, I’ve been doing what I can to move on from my past. Though I still have moments where I question if I really am neurotypical or if the disease is really gone, these fears are slowly fading, left as echoes of a distant past. Though I still have moments of awkwardness, they have grown fewer and further between as my social skills slowly improve. 

I know that I will still have problems down the line, but I’m ready for them. If there is one thing life has taught me, it’s that there is no problem that cannot be solved if you keep standing up for yourself, no matter what the world throws at you. When you know something is going to hurt, there isn’t any benefit to letting it do so. Even if you can’t guarantee success, at least you can say that you tried.