Going Live and the Comments That Follow

I have been going live on TikTok. Talking about neurodivergence. Sharing my experiences. Trying to build something real with people who get it.

And the comments have been getting to me.

Not all of them. Most people are kind, or at least neutral. But it only takes a few. A few comments that are designed to hurt. A few people who see someone being vulnerable and decide that is an invitation to be cruel.

What They Say

Comments about my weight. Constant comments about my weight. People asking if I am single over and over, no matter how many times I ignore it or say I am not here for that. Comments about my appearance. Comments about my voice. Comments telling me I am faking it for attention. Comments telling me I am not actually autistic because I do not look autistic. Comments telling me I am not actually ADHD because I can hold a conversation. Comments telling me to get off the internet. Comments telling me I am embarrassing myself.

The weight comments are the ones that stick the most. They are not clever. They are not original. But they target something I already carry shame about. As a neurodivergent person, I already spend so much mental energy just existing in a body that does not always cooperate - executive dysfunction affecting my eating and sleep, sensory issues making certain foods impossible, medication messing with my appetite. Having strangers zero in on the result of all that and turn it into a punchline feels like being punished for something I am already struggling with.

And it is not just the mean ones. Sometimes it is framed as concern - "I am just worried about your health" or "have you thought about trying this diet." As if my body is public property. As if I have not noticed. As if I have not spent years of my life fighting with my own reflection.

The "are you single" question every single time is a different kind of exhausting. It does not matter what I am talking about. I could be discussing autistic burnout or grief or the cost of healthcare and someone will still find a way to ask if I am available. It reduces everything I am trying to do to one thing. It turns a conversation about neurodivergence into a dating app. It makes me feel like I cannot just exist without being evaluated on whether someone would date me.

And the worst part is that if I get annoyed or brush it off, I am the rude one. I am the one who should take it as a compliment. I am the one who is being too sensitive. There is no winning. You either perform graciousness every time or you are the problem.

I know the script by now. I have heard it all before. It is not original. It is not clever. It is the same tired insults that every person who puts themselves on the internet has heard a thousand times.

Knowing that does not make it stop hurting.

The Rejection Sensitivity Factor

Having rejection sensitivity dysphoria and putting yourself on the internet is a particular kind of hell. Every negative comment lands like a physical blow. I can get fifty nice comments and one mean one, and the mean one is the one I will remember at 3 AM.

It is not vanity. It is not fragility. It is a neurological response. My brain is wired to perceive rejection as a threat. And a stranger telling me I am embarrassing myself triggers the same response as being cast out of the tribe. My body does not know the difference between one rude comment on a live stream and being excommunicated from the community I need to survive.

I know rationally that these people do not matter. They are strangers. They are bored. They are projecting their own insecurities. But my nervous system does not care about rationality. It cares about threat detection. And a threat is a threat, even if it comes through a screen.

The Cognitive Load of Going Live

There is something people do not talk about enough - the cognitive load of streaming while neurodivergent. You are trying to hold a thought, articulate it clearly, read comments in real time, decide which ones to respond to, ignore the ones that are designed to hurt you, moderate the chat, maintain eye contact with a camera, manage your facial expressions, monitor your tone, and remember you are being recorded - all at the same time.

For someone with ADHD, that is a lot of balls in the air. For someone with autism, that is a sensory and social nightmare happening in full public view. For someone with both, it is a recipe for getting overwhelmed and then beating yourself up for getting overwhelmed.

And then someone comments on your weight. Or asks if you are single for the tenth time. And you have to decide in half a second whether to acknowledge it, ignore it, delete it, or let it go. Meanwhile your brain has derailed entirely and you have forgotten what you were saying.

The people who leave those comments do not see any of that. They see a screen. They type a few words. They move on. But I am still sitting there, trying to rebuild my train of thought, trying to pretend it did not land, trying to keep going like it does not take pieces out of me every time.

Why I Keep Going Live

I ask myself this after every rough stream. Why do I keep doing this? Why put myself through it?

Part of it is practical too. I am trying really hard to get to 1000 followers so I can start making money from this. Not because I am greedy - because I am tired. Because working night shift as a CNA while managing AuDHD, bipolar, and narcolepsy is running me into the ground. Because if I could build something that sustains me, even a little, it would mean less burnout, less time in survival mode, more energy for the work that actually matters.

So every live, every video, every comment I push through - there is a goal at the end of it. And the weight comments and the "are you single" comments are not just hurtful, they are a distraction from something I am working really hard to build.

But the deeper reason I keep going is the people it helps. The DMs from people who say they have never heard anyone talk about their AuDHD experience before. The comments from people who say they finally feel seen. The one person who says they started looking into a diagnosis because of something I said.

That is why. That one person makes the fifty rude comments worth it. But I am not going to pretend it is easy. Some nights I end the stream and just sit in the quiet for a while, letting the adrenaline drain out of my body.

Some nights I read the comments and I hear them in my head for days afterward.

The Double Standard

There is a double standard that I notice every time. When neurotypical creators talk about their lives, they are brave and authentic. When neurodivergent creators talk about their lives, they are oversharing or seeking attention or making it their whole personality.

People expect us to be silent about our experiences. They want us to struggle quietly, invisibly, so they do not have to think about it. When we speak up, we are breaking an unspoken rule. And the internet punishes people who break rules.

I am not going to be silent. I have spent too many years being silent. But I am also not going to pretend the comments do not affect me. They do. And that is okay. It means I am human. It means I care. It means I am putting real parts of myself out there, and real parts hurt when they are attacked.

What I Am Trying to Remember

I am writing this to remind myself as much as anyone else:

• The people who leave cruel comments are not your audience. They are not who you are talking to. They are background noise.
• The people who benefit from your voice are quiet because they are listening. The rude people are loud because they want to be seen.
• You are not embarrassing yourself. You are being brave. Those two things can look the same from the outside.
• It is okay to take a break. Going live does not make you a creator. Taking a break does not make you a quitter.
• The same rejection sensitivity that makes the comments hurt also makes you deeply empathetic, deeply connected, and deeply real when you show up. It is the other side of the same coin.
• Your body is not up for discussion. You do not owe anyone an explanation for how you look. You do not have to be gracious about unsolicited comments on your appearance.
• You are allowed to ignore the "are you single" question. You are allowed to be annoyed by it. You are allowed to want to talk about neurodivergence without being treated like a dating profile.
• The people who matter will respect what you are there to do. The people who do not were never going to add anything to your life anyway.

I am going to keep going live. I am going to keep talking about neurodivergence. I am going to keep being myself, even when myself is messy and vulnerable and putting my foot in my mouth.

And I am going to keep working on not letting the comments live in my head rent-free.

If you are a creator too, I see you. It is hard. The comments about your body are not about you. The people treating you like a thing to be evaluated are showing you who they are, not who you are. You are not too sensitive. You are not overreacting. You are allowed to want to exist in a space without being picked apart.

Keep showing up if it still brings you something. Take a break if it does not. The people who need to hear what you have to say will wait for you. And the people who comment on your weight were never your audience anyway.