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As the oldest sibling in my family, I grew up in an environment where responsibility, control, and perfection felt safe. My role as the “example” meant that I was always trying to do things the “right” way, constantly trying to prove myself and meet expectations. The world, in my eyes, was divided into two categories: what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Anything outside that line of thinking felt unsafe. This black-and-white mindset became my lens for viewing the world, especially in my younger years. The pressure to be perfect often left me feeling like I was walking a tightrope, constantly balancing between what I thought was “right” and what I feared was “wrong.”
For much of my childhood, I lived in a constant state of survival—trying to meet the expectations of my family, school, and even my own self-imposed standards. Undiagnosed ADHD added an extra layer to this experience. I constantly felt like I was swimming upstream, struggling to meet deadlines, remember tasks, and manage my emotions. The difficulty with executive function skills only compounded the pressure, making every day feel like a challenge. At home and school, it was like I was fighting to stay afloat in a sea of overwhelming responsibilities, often unaware that I was simply responding to the internal chaos that ADHD creates.
The rigidity of this thinking made it difficult for me to navigate relationships and understand different perspectives. I was quick to judge and slow to empathize, assuming that if someone didn’t see things the way I did, they were somehow “off.” It created a distance between me and others, as I struggled to understand and accept people’s differences. I felt isolated, both emotionally and mentally, because I couldn’t find the space to just be—without the weight of perfectionism or the need to control outcomes.
As a result, my decision-making was clouded by an all-or-nothing mentality. I was either “right” or “wrong,” with no middle ground. This led to overthinking, inaction, and an overall sense of fear surrounding the choices I made. The pressure to avoid mistakes kept me stuck in a cycle of indecision. The idea that there could be more than one right answer—more than one path—didn’t make sense to me at the time. The lack of an ADHD diagnosis meant I had no tools or strategies to deal with my thoughts and behaviors. I just assumed I wasn't trying hard enough, or that I wasn't capable of doing things the “right” way.
However, my perspective began to shift when I moved to Zambia. The experience of living in a completely different culture challenged my rigid views in ways I never anticipated. I learned quickly that the world wasn’t as neatly categorized as I had believed. People from different cultures, backgrounds, and beliefs all navigated life in ways that made sense to them, often in ways that were vastly different from my own. I had to learn to let go of my desire for certainty and embrace the complexity of living in the gray spaces of life. I had no choice but to step outside my comfort zone and confront my own biases and assumptions.
But here’s the thing: you don’t need to move halfway around the world to learn this lesson. Yes, my time in Zambia helped me broaden my view, but what truly made a difference was my willingness to step outside my “bubble” and embrace discomfort. Whether it’s traveling, meeting people with different perspectives, or simply trying new things that challenge your comfort zone, life is full of opportunities to experience the gray areas. All it takes is the courage to leave behind what’s familiar and step into the unknown.
Living in the gray spaces—where both things can be true, where nuance and complexity exist—is where growth happens. It’s where I began to understand that relationships, decisions, and life itself are rarely as simple as black and white. Embracing this complexity, and the ability to see both sides of a situation, has been life-changing for me. It’s where I’ve found more peace, connection, and growth.
This shift in perspective has also been invaluable in my work with neurodivergent learners. Many of them struggle with black-and-white thinking, particularly when it comes to cognitive flexibility, and helping them see the beauty in the gray areas can be transformative. But you don’t need to travel to a far-off place to make this change—just take a step outside of the comfort zone you’ve created for yourself.
In next Monday's blog, we’ll explore the science of cognitive flexibility, why the black-and-white mindset is so prevalent, especially for neurodivergent learners, and how we can begin to embrace life in the gray spaces. Stay tuned!