When we look back on our lives, we all recognize those milestones, those moments that made our lives turn 180 degrees in an instant. A marriage, a baby, a business, a death, or an accident. Life becomes divided into ‘before’ and ‘after.’ My car accident in July 2023 was one of those moments for me.
Before the accident, I worked remotely as a graphic designer and, on my days off, I was a happy hiker who could be found in the forests of Oregon. After the accident, I lay flat on my bed 24/7. Before the accident, I had many projects and a good income. After the accident, I was at a loss. For a long time. The accident took mere seconds, but its physical and emotional aftermath lasted much longer. I firmly believe it’s better to break a leg than your head—bones heal faster than the brain.
On January 10th, exactly one year after my second surgery, I decided I was done being a victim and a patient. I had to get more active again. I couldn’t keep eating into my savings forever. So, I decided to sign up for networking meetings. For someone on the spectrum, networking is never really one of my favorite things to do. But sometimes, you really have to show up before someone will start working with you.
The first meeting I signed up for was free, low-key, and mostly an impulsive decision: half an hour before the doors opened, I registered via the website. It was busy. About fifty entrepreneurs were chatting away in what seemed to me to be an acoustic hell. No one seemed to mind, except me. I felt the pressure in my brain increase. Mind over matter, Mireille, I thought to myself. Put a smile on my face and go. I had nice conversations and made good connections, but it was exhausting. After two hours, I crawled back to my car. I had to recover from it for a day and a half.
The second networking event I had registered for was at an organization I had been a member of a long time ago: a women’s network of expats in The Hague. The theme of the evening particularly appealed to me: Neurodivergence and ADHD. I wanted to go, but I was also dreading it. I didn’t want to, but I forced myself. Again: mind over matter and go.
In the end, I was so glad I did go. In a small group of fifteen women, we discussed ADHD and neurodivergence. Not only was there so much recognition and acknowledgment, but I also met many old acquaintances from my early days at this network. My brain let me do my thing and floated around calmly in the brain fluid that no longer leaked away. At the end of the evening, I wasn’t exhausted. I was full of energy, happy, and so glad I had gone.
Networking is still a challenge for someone on the spectrum with a mild brain injury. But when you fall into a warm group with great women, it suddenly doesn’t feel so terrible anymore.