Shoulder season is the Goldilocks zone of travel. It’s not peak season, when the world’s collective vacation days collide, but it’s also not dead season, when half the restaurants are closed and your only food options come from a vending machine. For those of us who experience sensory overload, decision fatigue, and novelty-seeking tendencies, this matters.

In 2015, I packed my backpack and began walking north on the 2,200-mile Appalachian Trail where I learned that less is more. I ugly-cried while I watched my best friend drive away from the Appalachian Trailhead in Georgia. The trees stood tall all around me, ominous and forboding. Suddenly, it was just me and a 40-pound pack against the world. I felt like I’d made a terrible mistake. 

“Cozy Games” have taken the internet by storm, a genre of video game involving low-stakes missions, cute aesthetics, and soothing sounds. Think: Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, and A Short Hike — really, any game that pairs well with the ambiance of a crackling fire. With their simple effects and clear frameworks, cozy games have naturally found their way into the hearts of neurodivergent gamers.

I feel an intense shame in admitting that I find the summer intolerable. The hot season beckons intense stimuli: glaring sunlight, high temperatures, strong smells, and loud noises — this persistent attack on the senses can leave me feeling just about ready to snap somebody's head off. But during the ‘Ber months, I’m at my peak.

What happens when you get diagnosed as bipolar but really, you have ADHD? For 16 years, I lived under an incorrect diagnosis, silencing every hunch that something deeper was at play. My new diagnosis explains the impulsivity I’d mistaken for recklessness, the chronic procrastination that was actually executive dysfunction, my hair-trigger sensitivity to injustice, and the sensory overwhelm that often left me melting down in silence.