Most of my housemates had ADHD, PTSD, bipolar, autism, or some combination of those. I might have been the only one who didn’t realize I was neurodivergent—that is, not neurotypical. In that house, for the first time since childhood, I didn’t feel like an introvert. I got energy from being around people, because I didn’t feel the need to play a role—I could just be. Stimming was common and accepted. People dressed however they liked. Meltdowns were an occasional part of life, not a big and scary event.
