For nearly two years, fibromyalgia crept into my life like a slow burn. At first, it was just fatigue and aches, but gradually it grew until every movement felt heavy. The pain became a physical representation of something I’d lived with for much longer: the invisible weight of being AuDHD in a world built for neurotypicals. Misunderstood, overstimulated, always trying to fit into spaces that didn’t feel safe — my body carried what my mind had been carrying for years.

There were moments I felt trapped, as if my spark had gone out completely. Sport, acting, even the joy of simple movement — things that once gave me freedom — now reminded me of my limits. Friends and family stood beside me, but ultimately, the only person who could decide to keep moving was me.

I can’t point to one turning moment. But slowly, I found safety — not in “fixing” myself, but in honouring who I really am. Safety in giving myself compassion. Safety in being authentic. Safety in learning to advocate for my needs instead of shrinking them. That’s where the spark began to return. Sport and creativity became places to express my truth, not to prove my worth.