Fractal You: Embracing the Patterns Within Your Personal Chaos
There’s a term in math and nature that I can’t stop thinking about lately: fractal.
A fractal is a pattern that repeats itself at every scale. Zoom in, zoom out—it’s still the same shape, just expressed differently. Think snowflakes, tree branches, seashell spirals. Gorgeous, complex, seemingly chaotic… yet completely, intimately patterned.
Which made me wonder: what if we are fractals too?
Not broken. Not inconsistent. Just… repeating the truth of who we are—over time, in changing forms.
And if that’s true (which I believe in my core it is), then maybe some of the parts of us we label as messy or inconsistent—especially when living with ADHD—aren’t wrong at all. They’re just our pattern expressing itself in a new season.
And yes, that pattern sometimes involves letting people go.
When Paths Diverge: The Quiet Ache of Releasing
I’ve lost friendships. Let’s just say it plainly.
Not through drama or betrayal or seismic fights. Just… disintegration. Gentle ghosting. Outgrown rhythms. No text back. Or simply that silent sense that someone you once loved is now walking on a road you can no longer travel.
At first, I took it personally.
I’d spiral—Was it something I said? Did I forget a birthday again? Am I too much, too intense, too weird, too boring, too not-enough?
But after enough cycles, I started to notice the pattern. And like any good fractal, it wasn’t randomness. It had meaning.
We grow. They grow. And sometimes, we grow in directions that can’t stretch far enough to keep holding hands.
And that? That’s not failure. That’s flow.
ADHD and the Social Spiral
I’ll be honest: living with ADHD adds layers to all of this.
My attention doesn’t always track timelines like other people’s do. I hyperfocus on a project for weeks, then disappear into a creative cocoon. I forget to reply, not because I don’t care, but because I had a complete thought in my head that never made it out of my fingers. (Can we normalize “sent it in spirit” as a valid excuse?)
And sometimes… people don’t understand that.
They assume I’ve ghosted them. That I don’t value them. That I’ve flaked.
And maybe, in some ways, I have.
But it’s not rejection. It’s not indifference. It’s just my brain’s rhythm. It’s the spiral I live in. And I’ve learned that the people who get me? The ones who see the pattern beneath the chaos?
They stay. Or they return. Or they bless my path and move on—with grace instead of resentment.
That’s what real resonance feels like.
You’re Not Wrong for Not Wanting to Party
Let’s be real for a moment: there was a time when I thought I had to say yes. To everything. To everyone. Just to prove I could hang.
But listen…
Loud music, small talk, drunk shouting, the exhausting peopling of it all? It makes my nervous system feel like a squirrel in traffic. It’s not fun. It’s overwhelm with a cover charge.
These days, I protect my energy like it’s sacred currency—because it is.
My bedtime is 8:00 p.m. My ideal party is a cozy conversation about alternate realities and reinvention paths, not tequila and TikTok dance-offs. And you know what?
That doesn’t make me boring. It makes me aligned.
You’re allowed to leave the social script behind if it doesn’t match your current frequency. You’re allowed to disappoint people who expected the old you. You’re allowed to put yourself first—and not apologize.
That’s not selfish. It’s soulful.
The Fractal of Friendship
Not all relationships are meant to be forever.
Some people come into your life to walk a few curves of your spiral with you. To laugh with you through a season. To teach you something. To reflect something back.
But like two fractals that drift in and out of sync, eventually your patterns may no longer harmonize.
And when that happens, you don’t owe them guilt. You owe yourself grace.
Just because the connection isn’t what it was doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.
The lesson? Cherish the overlap. Honor the divergence.
And trust that both of you are still growing—just in directions your friendship can no longer stretch to hold.
That’s love, too.
Your Pattern Is Enough
Here’s what I want to leave you with, friend:
You don’t need to hold onto everyone to prove you’re worthy of connection. You don’t need to perform extroversion to feel included. You don’t need to explain your evolution to people who stopped listening three versions of you ago.
The people who are meant to walk with you now? They’ll recognize your pattern. They’ll admire the way your chaos makes shape. They’ll meet you in your quiet, not just your performance.
And most importantly—so will you.
You’ll look back and see the pattern repeating: courage, creativity, clarity, release. You’ll realize the letting go was part of the spiral forward. You’ll feel your own wholeness in the space they used to fill.
Because you’re not a puzzle missing pieces. You’re a fractal—complete, even in your shifting.
So tonight, whether you’re curled up by 8:00 p.m. with herbal tea and a podcast about parallel dimensions, or texting your sister about which timeline future-you is thriving in (Sylvia, I see you), know this:
You’re doing it right. You’re growing the way only you can.
And it’s okay to outgrow, to reroute, to rest.
The pattern holds.
Even when it changes.
Especially then.
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