The more life experience I gain, the more I find that even the most seemingly separate areas of my life can be connected in some way. When I want to pursue a budding interest in a topic, I link it to the things I’m already doing so that I can give it a proper place in my life. After recently becoming an adult, it’s compelling to see how interests from my childhood appear and interact in my current life.
Growing up, one of the first things that noticeably set me apart from my classmates was my interest in bugs. I raised a mealworm for a school project in second grade, and this little creature soon became a beloved pet. I then looked for more bugs around me every day and discovered a new, fascinating world. I was never particularly bothered by the fact that most other second graders didn’t share this fascination. I simply found the few that loved bugs or would at least tolerate them and chose to spend more of my time with them.
As I grew older, being the only person in a space who enjoyed certain things became lonelier. My peers appeared to invest all their time and energy in things I had no interest in, and I suppressed my own seemingly misplaced enthusiasm. I gradually developed the idea that others would be driven away if I expressed too much emotion towards anything. I felt a big rush of excitement on the rare occasion that I heard someone mention one of my interests, but I had no idea what to do with it. Speaking was so difficult for me that I routinely went days or weeks without talking to anyone outside of my immediate family. I now wonder how many opportunities to connect I missed while I was working so hard to gain acceptance from everyone around me.
Since I struggled with spoken words, I learned to express myself through action and creativity. I was always a prolific writer in my English classes, going well over the minimum word count for all of my writing assignments. If I couldn’t talk during a group project, I could help guide the group by demonstrating my vision through my work. Learning to navigate my interests and identity in this way has a multifaceted impact on my life today. I now attach a large part of my sense of self-worth to my productivity, which frequently puts me at risk of burnout. However, it has also created many opportunities to start passion projects and teach myself new skills that I might not have otherwise pursued.
One thing I have always enjoyed creating is art, which is now a critical part of the way I navigate the world as a neurodivergent person. The earliest times I remember feeling truly connected to new people were when I was viewing the work of creators I enjoyed. Interacting with art and writing felt much safer than trying to navigate real-time social dynamics where I was often left feeling ostracized. When people create art, they are willing to plunge into the depths of their genuine personalities without shrinking themselves to conform to social expectations.
Viewing art lets me know that others also find comfort in the same things I do. Since I often took comfort in nature whenever the rest of the world felt too confusing to handle, I am often drawn to images of whimsical critters in cozy woodland scenes. The quaint, earthy environments that I once longed to be a part of can be brought to reality in some way. People make art of everything, from possums, to gnomes, to toads baking cookies. I think that this art has the ability to make people view the world in a new light. It’s easy to understand how someone can develop a love of frogs after seeing an endless array of adorable drawings of them.
I now document my own art with an Instagram account, @coolbugdoodles, where I post drawings of bugs along with information about them. I hope that these drawings can encourage people to see insects in a new light and discover how fascinating and diverse they are. After you spend time observing a bug attempting to capture it in detail, it’s hard to see it as anything other than gorgeous. Drawings can communicate the complexity and beauty I find in the insect world far clearer than any words I could formulate. As my drawing practice develops, it continues to feel more like an act of love and a form of connection.
Although I now have a clearer vision behind my art, the purpose behind my bug drawings wasn’t as defined when I first started. In high school, I happened to find a book full of unique insects that my aunt had sent me while I was searching for something to do over winter break. I decided to start drawing the bugs in the book one by one and post each drawing in a centralized location. The idea seemed to spontaneously develop in my mind with little thought beforehand.
This thinking process happens for me quite often. I start doing something on a whim and soon find myself deeply invested in it with a long-term vision. I usually discover the purpose behind my actions well after the actions themselves take place. I’m not sure if this happens for anyone else I know. Due to the time spent slowly discovering my neurodivergence, I have also spent a great deal of time examining the way my mind works. Sometimes it feels like this is a necessity in order to find ways that I can function in the world.
My drawings are both an expression of one of my interests and a representation of a sustained effort to form a meaningful connection with the world around me. After realizing the function that art plays in my life, I have also become interested in learning about other neurodivergent artists. I want to support their work and see how art impacts their lives. I believe that all art can be a form of communication, and I want to explore the dynamics of this. Discovering and acknowledging diverse forms of communication enables us to elevate and understand the perspectives of people who are often marginalized and misunderstood.
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