Labels have always played a significant role in my life. As a child, I was called difficult, dramatic, fat, lazy, stubborn, naughty; the list seemed endless. My parents attached so many different labels to me, and over the years, I’ve worked hard to shake them off. Letting go hasn’t been easy; some of those words stuck deep. What’s helped me most is not erasing the labels but transforming them. They still exist, but now they carry a different meaning, a new name that reflects who I am today.
I’m not lazy; I live with executive dysfunction, which means tasks can be harder to start or complete, but it’s not about a lack of will. I’m not stubborn; I simply value honesty and strive for truth in every interaction. I’m not naughty; I just don’t always fit into the mold of what’s considered “normal,” and that’s okay. I’m not dramatic; I’m simply human, experiencing emotions and expressing them as part of life’s natural rhythm. Each of these labels, once heavy and burdening, has been reframed to become a piece of my identity that enriches my narrative rather than defines it.
Learning to label and organize things, to put them in their rightful place, has been the one thing that’s helped me move past so much of what was ingrained in childhood. The wish to have continued therapy honestly and consistently while growing up still lingers, the kind that would have helped label things properly from the start. Instead of being seen as lazy, disorganized, or overly dramatic, there would have been a clear understanding: ADHD and Autism with moral OCD. Instead of being accused of trying to avoid school, there would have been an explanation rooted in reality, a diagnosis of Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, tied to migraines and relentless bouts of vomiting.
There’s a deep sting in realizing that the people closest to you didn’t push for answers or fight for solutions. It’s hard to sit with the truth of how much time was lost and how many moments were spent believing you simply weren’t good enough. Looking back, it becomes painfully clear that the real problem wasn’t a lack of effort or ambition. It was not having the tools, resources, or understanding needed to truly succeed. That gap between what you needed and what you had can leave a lasting ache, one that lingers long after the moment has passed, manifesting not just as emotional turmoil, but also as a sense of disconnection from oneself and the world.
Turning 30 was the moment when everything shifted, and I began to truly see things for what they were. Reality hit in a way it never had before. For the first time, I reached out for help in ways I’d never dared to. I found a doctor who genuinely cared about me and my health, a psychiatrist who really understood what I was trying to say, and a therapist who listened patiently when I finally felt ready to open up. It was a turning point that made me realize the power of finding the right people to support you. With their guidance and insight, I began to understand that my myriad of labels, Anxiety Disorder, Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, Bipolar II, and more, were not just burdens to carry, but parts of a vast landscape that needed to be traversed with compassion and care.
The emotional unveiling of my conditions brought a wave of relief and validation, letting me see that struggles I had endured were not mere personal failures, but legitimate challenges that deserved understanding. Anxiety Disorder, Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, and others carry weight but also clarity. This understanding enriched my life and led me to embrace not only the struggles but the joys and complexities I carry as well.
Plus, all the things I’ve gained in my adult life shaped each new facet of my identity. My labels go far beyond the medical. I’m also a mom, wife, woman, crazy cat lady, polyamorous, pansexual, witch, empath, friend, sister, caregiver, support system, blunt, burden, gardener, artist, writer, and so much more. These aspects of my identity weave a rich tapestry of who I am; a collective of experiences, feelings, and thoughts that speak to the fullness of my existence.
I’ve grown to love my labels. They bring order to my life, transforming chaos into clarity. Everything has a place, neatly arranged into boxes, rows, and columns, each piece fitting perfectly into its spot. It’s like building a map for my world, one that makes sense and feels secure. With everything sorted, I can keep it all safe, organized, and ready whenever I need it. This organization helps create a sense of predictability and comfort in a world that often feels overwhelming.
Being able to know why has been life-altering. It connects the dots of my past to the present in a way that helps me navigate my future. I’m deeply thankful for the chance to make things right and mend the mistakes that have woven their way through different chapters of my life. Each realization brings healing, turning wounds into wisdom, and transforming the shadows of past labels into the light of understanding.
Traumatized Viridimere 