I deleted my Twitter app: Facing my Neurodiversity and Parenting

But not for the reason you might think, or maybe it is

If anyone knows me IRL “in real life” (do people say this anymore?), they can vouch for my social media addiction. I am the classic case. Always glued to my phone or my laptop, refreshing, posting, posting, taking photos, taking videos, doom scrolling, doom scrolling…

So yes, I’m as shocked as anyone may be to be writing this sentence: I deleted my Twitter app from my phone. And no, it’s actually not because I’m disappointed in where the Twitter/X ecosystem is going (though I am), or to break my social media habit (which I do need to do). It’s because I pulled my toddler out of daycare.

A little past 8AM on a Saturday morning, and my husband whisked the babies to the gym. I ate my toddler’s left over breakfast, cleaned up the dining table, poured myself some coffee (chugged half of it), and am once again sitting down at my computer. By now, I’m sure I only have about half an hour left before the loud assembly comes home. Let’s see how far I can get!

Recently, I read the book, “The Highly Sensitive Parent: Be Brilliant in Your Role, Even When the World Overwhelms You” by Elaine N. Aron (all of the book links on this post are affiliate links!) upon recommendation from a friend. While there were parts that deeply resonated, and other parts that seemed a little too permissive, one concept really stood out to me.

It was that “we” as “highly sensitive” people are fundamentally wired “differently” than about 80% of the population, and as one of those who are “highly sensitive” and easily overstimulated, it makes sense to get more help, utilize any resources we have, and do whatever necessary to maximize the benefits of being a highly sensitive parent and minimize the potential downsides of being an easily overstimulated parent.

Reading the book gave me a great start in beginning to formulate my thoughts around my identity as an easily overstimulated and chronically fatigued mom, who never seems to be able to do “enough” because I’m so tired all the time.

While there are many detriments to being so easily exhausted (the author mentioned how if you do deny yourself the help you need because you want to be “normal,” you could potentially do yourself and your kids a lot of disservice by becoming authoritarian and short with the kids because you’re so overwhelmed and exhausted), there are many benefits to being a caretaker who is observant and highly in-tuned with the kids’ development and emotions.

Since there’s nothing I can do about who I am, I decided I need to take steps to bring out more of the positive sides of being a “highly sensitive” parent and try to minimize the detrimental aspects of being “highly sensitive.”

I’ve known I have sensory overload/overstimulation issues for a long time. I probably grew up with it, but the overwhelm became much more apparent after I had a craniotomy in college to remove a few vascular tumors from my left frontal lobe.

If you’re interested in reading a bit about my journey with brain surgery and surviving vascular tumors called Arteriovenous Malformations in my brain, you can check out some of my older blog posts:

• On Facing Death, 7 Years Later

• Lost and Found: My “words” after brain surgery

• How Brain Injury and ADHD helped me find my dream career in Tech

Though the brain surgery itself was a success, I was left with severe anxiety, executive function disorder, and sensitivity to anything from flickering lights from a ceiling fan at the restaurant to the buzzing of cellphone chargers plugged into the wall, but not charging phones (IYKYK).

Innately Overstimulated and “Masking”

For the past 10 years after my surgery, I thought that my proclivity to overstimulation and exhaustion came from the brain surgery or my chronic fatigue. It is only recently, in my mid 30’s, that I began to realize that perhaps I’ve always been having these same issues, and that I have always had ADHD (not just Executive Function Disorder as result of brain injury from my surgery).

Listening to my mom talk about how I was as a child is a model list of ADHD symptoms, and my old psychologist who had seen me through my decade-long depression as a tween and teen has told me that if anything, I’m probably on the Autism spectrum. I knew I was different, I knew I’m not “neurotypical,” but I hadn’t realized that my quirky traits and personalities might have labels that could help me uncover resources that could help me live easier or, god forbid, “forgive” myself - no, give myself permission to live fully without guilt, for not being “adult” enough.

After my near-miss with death (I recently learned that I had sustained a mini-stroke when I was in high school) and my brain surgery that gave me a second lease at life, I was eager to attempt to “prove everyone wrong” and to live independently, get a job, and support myself. All around me, professionals and well-meaning adults told me that I couldn’t possibly ever drive, live independently away from my parents, or obtain and keep a full-time job.

As a 24 year old fresh out of college and graduate school, I felt that leaving my status as a “student” was one of the last naturally-occurring chances to break free from the verbal shackles that could hold me back for decades, if not my whole life. I figured that if it didn’t work out, I could always come back to my parents’ house to nurse my wounded pride, and then live off them for the rest of my life.

I spent the next half decade trying my hardest to “function as a normal adult,” moving to New York City, juggling multiple side gigs on top of a full-time job in tech (that paid me $37k/yr!), picking up hobbies and food, and “masking” the best that I could.

And then, at 27, I was diagnosed with stress-induced Rheumatoid Arthritis. After few years of attempting to “grit it out,” and not finding myself any closer to relief or remission from my symptoms and inflammations, I decided I needed to drastically change my life.

Right after my 30th birthday, I left the rat race of corporate America, moved out of New York City (still my favorite city in the world), and began a new decade of my life with nature, walks, and self-employment.

That was five years ago. Now, I’ve become fairly well established in my solo-preneur career as a content creator and writer, traditionally published a book, and have birthed 2 children. What a change!

I’m not a “bad mother,” just an overstimulated one

So, in my typical fashion, I really really really digressed. But the reason why I deleted my Twitter app from my phone was because I took my toddler out of daycare.

Coming up to the first day of no daycare, I was feeling overwhelmed and exhausted just with the idea of dealing with my life the next day. Reading “The Highly Sensitive Parent” made me realize that the only way for me to navigate this change was to cut down on my distractions and overstimulation.

Being with babies and being fully attentive is exhausting, but it’s even more exhausting (and frustrating) when I’m thinking about everything else I have to do, constantly flitting from one task to another, and getting pulled back by someone calling me or crying. And then there’s my phone, beckoning me to check, reply, post, or scroll.

It seems horrible to say, but I honestly think the social media brain really takes away from my real life and makes me think differently (“Scarcity Brain: Fix Your Craving Mindset and Rewire Your Habits to Thrive with Enough” by Michael Easter, which I’m reading now, seems to agree).

After reading “Listen: Five Simple Tools to Meet Your Everyday Parenting Challenges” by Patty Wipfler and Tosha Schore, and “Good Inside: A Guide to Becoming the Parent You Want to Be” by Becky Kennedy, I realized that one of the biggest reasons why I felt that staying home with and parenting my older child was so difficult was because our personalities and proclivities to activities did not match.

My children are inherently good (I knew that). But I’m also inherently good (sometimes, I’m not so sure). Just because our activity and energy levels don’t match doesn’t mean that I can’t find a way to meet both of our needs.

Stimulation-Need Mismatch

My toddler is extremely energetic, loves active play, never sat or stood still as an infant, and is still always on the move and always requests attention. I love that about him, but I was always burned out and exhausted by the seemingly endless amount of energy and need for my attention in his first year of life.

I, on the other hand, love nothing more than peace and quiet (overstimulated much?), and to roll around lazily in the living room building something, and to read a book or take a walk.

Reflection after 2 years has helped me realize that it was not that I was a “bad mother” for not feeling like I loved this full-time motherhood experience, but my child and my dispositions just weren’t matching. He needs stimulation, and I need much less stimulation. Apples and oranges.

I would look around and notice how positively other mothers were talking about their experiences being with their babies all day, and how much they loved it, and wondered over and over if I am just not meant to be a mother, or if I’m deficient because I’m just too exhausted and wanted to get away every day. I loved my baby more than anything in the world, and at the same time, I desperately craved a minute of silence to sit on the toilet.

These books taught me that no, it’s just that I have a certain tendency, and my child has another, and sometimes they match, other times they do not, and it’s just a bit more difficult to parent when your tendencies don’t match up. But knowing that there’s a mismatch has been the first step to finding ways to cope, and hopefully enjoy the experience more.

If I’m constantly overstimulated and feel pulled in too many directions… Then my only solution to preparing for having a 2 year old and an infant at home with me all day, every day, was to reduce my stimulation and emotional obligations so much that I could focus fully on my kids and the day.

Addicted to Stimulations (Notifications)

With 2 babies in the house, I wanted to reduce the amount of “obligations” I have so I can be fully present with my kids. So I deleted my Twitter app, and have even begun leaving my phone at home when I take walks or go to the park with my kids (thanks, cellular connection Apple Watch!).

I thought it was going to be extremely difficult. After all, if I checked my “screen time” usage report, the amount of time I spent on social media was always extremely disturbing. But I was extremely pleasantly surprised to notice that I didn’t “crave” my hits (almost) at all once the app was gone.

I even deleted my favorite game, 2048, which was also a time-suck (mindless games that you flick flick flick flick endlessly? According to “Scarcity Brain,” that’s just the recipe for an addictive app). While for the first few hours, I had the itch to play or open the apps, picking up my phone and navigating to the page where I had the app icons, I quickly lost that automatic tick as well.

Yesterday, I realized that I hadn’t even thought about Twitter until past when my kids were asleep. To think, just last weekend, it was the first thing I did when I woke up and the last thing I did before I went to bed (way later than I intended)!

Once I started disconnecting, even having notifications on my Apple Watch has started to feel intrusive… What a change from constantly checking my phone for messages or rushing to pick it up the moment I saw a notification!

As someone who has to document every part of my and my kids’ lives (I think it stems from the extreme memory issues I experienced after surgery, where I felt like if I didn’t write it down or take photos of what was happening, I’d “lose” the experience because I’d forget about them), this was something I’d considered often, but could never execute.

Now, I’m telling myself that I have way too may photos and videos of them already, and for things like core memories, less is more. There’s no way I could go through all of the photos and videos I have at the rate I’m taking them in a decade, so I can relax and decrease the records, and me in 20 years looking back will probably even thank me for the curation.

I don’t know how long this will last, but for now, few days in, I’m surprisingly feeling great. It might just be the adrenaline rush (like the first 2 days postpartum), but I’m more energized and ready for the morning, and feel 150% more present.

Even when I’m juggling 8 things at once (puking infant, toddler yelling for help with his Legos, pot boiling, carrots waiting to be mashed, and thinking about whether to take the kids to the park or on a walk, and what snacks to pack), I feel less overstimulated. I still have my moments of exhaustion and overstimulation, but I feel what runners must feel after a good, long, run every day.

“I’ve accomplished it. I’ve survived, and hey, I don’t feel that horrible!”

I’ve been quickly adjusting my routines to do the food prep for the infant and toddler at night so we have less-chaotic mornings, and learning how to pack snacks and water bottles in advance so we can just leave on our next adventure.

I don’t want to change my kids or myself, but there are things I can do to change the way we react to situations and stimuli. Hopefully we’ll continue discovering what makes us tick, what doesn’t work, and keep on adjusting and growing as a family in the decades to come.