I used to hide under my desk because the lights hurt. Now I’m a best-selling author whose entire industry evaporated. This is the brutal truth of being openly disabled in 2026.
Hi, my name is Lyric Rivera, and I’m Autistic (plus ADHD, also known as AuDHD).
I also have a few more differences that play into my Neurodivergent profile, which I don’t openly share. However, for most of my life, I didn’t know this about myself (that I was Neurodivergent), or even what ‘Neurodiversity‘ or ‘Neurodivergence‘ were.
Photo of Lyric, with a freshly shaved head, and the long middle part pulled back. They are posing for the camera, giving a shoulder and a closed-mouth smirk. They’re also wearing a black tank top and posing in their RV.
Before understanding these truths (about how my own brain works, the human spectrum of brain differences, and how our society stigmatizes and disempowers many of us), I used to think I was broken, because, despite my gifts, I often struggled with things the people around me found easy.
To cope with my differences before AD (before Autism Diagnosis), I managed my life by leaning heavily into my skills, strengths, and abilities, while avoiding my weaknesses like they were a deadly sickness (because I would often become physically unwell whenever I put myself under too much stress).
Over the years, this ‘mystery sickness‘, which came with migraines, vertigo, disorientation, stomach problems, and unhealthy weight loss (that I now know was Autistic burnout triggered by many factors), would come and go.
However, despite my frequent sick spells, for most of my life, no doctors could find any answers to what was going on with me.
All I knew was ‘little stressors‘ (that most people handled with ease and grace) could instantly sour my stomach and make me immediately slide into digestive distress, and episodes where time seemed to distort, and that I had experienced frequent serious headaches for most of my life.
Because I was young and struggled to describe my problems, the first doctor I saw said I had IBS, but no stomach medicines or diets gave me any relief.
My next doctor, when I was a little bit older, suggested my issues were psychosomatic and used as a way of avoiding school. That doctor suggested I keep exposing myself to stressful environments to build tolerance (which only seemed to make things worse).
The last doctor I saw (before finally being diagnosed as Autistic) decided after many months of tests that my problems were likely induced by stress or anxiety, and referred me for a mental health assessment, eventually leading me to be diagnosed as Autistic.
Looking back, knowing what I know now, I’ve realized multiple factors were leading me to become burned out and physically unwell.
For one, and perhaps most significantly, my sensory needs weren’t being met.
I had been regularly forcing myself to endure environments that triggered sensory overload (which came with headaches, dizziness, disorientation, and hyper-vigilance from the constant sensory assault), and pushing myself to stay in those environments, when most other people experiencing what I was experiencing would have excused themselves and gone home to rest.
The hyper-vigilance, triggered by my frequent sensory overloads, was wreaking havoc on my stomach and digestive system, because when we’re in fight/flight, it affects digestion. It also affected my sleep, making it difficult to fall asleep, stay asleep, and get restful sleep.
Turns out I’d spent most of my life in a hypervigilant state, and being on edge had become so normal to me that I had no idea what being calm and regulated even felt like (until very recently).
Thanks to being stuck in that state of always being on edge, ready for danger at any moment (sensory danger I wasn’t aware of), and being unable to get restful sleep, I was always teetering on the edge of burnout, barely holding myself above the threshold. As a result, any extra stress I would add to my life would almost instantly tip me over that point, sending me into burnout and sickness all over again.
A journey back to Self.
For almost ten years, since being diagnosed as Autistic, I’ve been on a journey, getting to know myself and my needs, because for most of my life I didn’t know who I was or what I needed to thrive in life (since I’d been modeling myself after the people around me whose needs, minds, and experiences were very different from my own).
From a young age, I’d been gaslit by society, convinced by the people around me that I was ‘too sensitive‘ and needed to ignore my pain and discomfort, and do my best to fit into the world (an un-flexing and uncompromising world that treated me like a problem)… but I now know that the problem wasn’t me, it was society and spaces unwilling to meet me, or my needs, where they were.
I wasn’t always disconnected from my needs.
Once upon a time, part of me knew my needs: that the lights hurt my eyes, and that other people were too loud and chaotic. But that part had been shamed into silence many years ago, by teachers and other authority figures who thought they knew what was best for me, insisting I didn’t need to wear sunglasses indoors when I tried to bring them to class, because “sunglasses were for outside” and “nobody else was complaining about the lights”.
According to my teacher, I also “couldn’t hide under my desk“ where it was nice and dark because it “wasn’t appropriate“.
My teacher and the school nurse also decided I needed to be in class, no matter how uncomfortable it was for me (or didn’t believe me when I told them about my discomfort), even when I felt sick.
I was ‘sick’ almost every day at school, but with no fever or clear reason for my sickness, it was assumed I was faking sick to get out of class.
Not being allowed to go to the nurse or call home whenever my head or stomach ached (because I had no fever and wasn’t contagious) taught me to ignore my discomfort, and that I had to keep pushing myself even when what I needed most was rest.
All of this was the perfect storm, because I grew into an adult completely disconnected from my body and its signals, which were supposed to tell me when I needed things like food, hydration, and rest.
Exploitive employers loved this about me: that I wouldn’t call in or complain, and was willing to neglect myself and my needs, putting the needs of my work and employer above my own.
Unfortunately, every person has their breaking point, and I met mine in corporate America.
The combination of fluorescent lighting, an open office, and employers who treated me like a problem when I struggled to conform to the environment around me brought up old traumas and familiar struggles.
It was the type of job I had been told I should aspire to, but when it came down to it, the dream I’d been told I “should have“ quickly turned into a nightmare.
My previous approach of focusing on my strengths and avoiding my weaknesses didn’t work in this job because my employer expected me to be good at everything she threw my way.
If I wasn’t good at something yet, she expected me to figure it out or practice until I was, even things I had no natural aptitude for.
In her mind, you could be good at anything with enough practice, and therefore, whenever people weren’t good at things, it meant they hadn’t practiced or put in enough effort (a similar attitude my teachers had when I was growing up).
Keep in mind, when I took that job, I didn’t yet know I was Autistic, and at the time, I also believed that all skills could be learned if I just tried hard enough.
The environment was full of ableist ideas, and I also had a lot of internalized ableism back then.
My boss watched as I got sicker and sicker, wasting away in front of everyone’s eyes.
At first, I would come to work sick, but eventually, as things escalated, the sickness became so intense that I couldn’t keep myself together and started calling out of work multiple times a week.
Everyone in the office knew I was going through something.
My boss and managers knew I was attending many doctors’ appointments, trying to find out what was going on with me.
Unfortunately, once I had the answer as to what was making me sick (sensory overload from not having my sensory needs supported as an Autistic person), and what could help me alleviate my sickness (being permitted to work in an environment I had more control over, with less sensory stimuli, specifically a quieter space without fluorescent lights), I was told I “must be high functioning“ (since I’d not been diagnosed sooner).
To make things worse, once I knew what I needed and requested it, our HR lead told me that the accommodations I needed weren’t available to me because “everyone wanted what I was asking for, so they couldn’t give me special treatment“ because I needed to “earn“ a quiet seat by the window, or an office, since those spaces were reserved for management and top performers and I, in my sickly state, was not a top performer.
One thought, that I kept to myself, stayed stuck in my mind after my request was denied… on the inside, I was screaming, “If everyone wants what I’m asking for, then your system SUCKS!“ However, my employer had made it perfectly clear they didn’t care about my health or well-being, and I felt sharing any more would be a waste of time and energy.
That’s when I realized that traditional work environments might never work for me, so I quietly started looking for something better. Frustrated with the experience, I also started working on my first book (Workplace Neurodiversity Rising).
Back then, I wanted desperately to make things better and to help, so I accepted multiple advisory board positions with various autism-related charities and organizations as an openly Autistic person.
The rest of this story is available on Substack and Patreon.
This post was written with the assistance of Focused Space (a sponsor of the Neurodivergent Rebel blog).
What is Focused Space?
Focused Space is an ADHD-focused, Neurodiversity affirming, goal‑setting, and online co‑working / body‑doubling platform designed to help people prioritize, stay motivated, and bust through procrastination (and it is something I believe in and personally use every day).
More info:
Learn more about how I use it here!
I get requests (that I mostly ignore) to do brand partnerships all the time, because I don’t want to partner with products unless I actually find them useful and high-quality. I also want to work with brands whose owners and processes align with my personal standards and ethics.
That’s why I’m excited to announce that the Neurodivergent Rebel Blog is officially partnering with Focused Space, and our community members can now get access to Focused Space at a special rate of 20% off forever when you use the code “NEURODIVERGENTREBEL” at checkout via the button below or at get.focused.space/neurodivergentrebel:
Now when you Get Focused Space via the link above you’re getting discounted access to a great tool as while supporting the work I do here at the NeuroDivergent Rebel Blog.
Also, if you ever join a 7am CST wakeup call, or pop into an un-hosted Quiet Owl session on a week day, you might bump into me.
Not sure if Focused Space is for you?
- You can start with a free 14-day trial.
- And because this is an ADHD-friendly app, Focused Space will send you an email reminder 7 days before you are billed, so you can cancel after the first week if it’s not a good fit for you.
