Wait, where are my pants?

Reflecting on the difference between writing about my younger self and who I am now. Full comic in Island Magazine, Issue 174.

Who I Was, Who I Am

I recently created an eight-page comic for Island Magazine, Issue 174. For now, the full comic is only available in print, but this is the moment that inspired it and some of what sits underneath the surface.

I see little me as a completely different person to who I am now. It’s easier to write about “Little A” as a character, to separate the embarrassments, missteps, and bad judgement calls with grace as a teenager. I know I’ve grown into a different human and have shed multiple skins since then.

Writing about my current self feels far more jarring. I don’t yet have the wider lens of time and space to reflect, but I do trust my instincts. I recognise my present shortcomings with more compassion than I would have ten years ago. I’m still evolving, still experimenting with new ways of getting through each day.

Realising that I’m one of the many women who flew under the ADHD radar until her thirties has helped me make peace with a lot of those flaws. Like so many others, it came with a sense of grief for not knowing sooner, and a tremendous apology to myself for being so demanding and guilt-ridden. Now it all seems so obvious. Are there any neurotypical graphic novelists? I haven’t openly shared that I too received a later-in-life diagnosis. While I had begun to question it before motherhood, it wasn’t until my baby arrived that the true brain glitches became impossible to ignore. I couldn’t mask my way through it anymore.

After becoming a parent, I began doing things that even surprised me with how scattered and spacey I felt. My husband Sam, our 13-month-old daughter, and I travelled to the US and Canada for a month to visit friends and attend a few professional events. While staying in Bellingham, Washington, at my childhood friend’s house, we spontaneously decided to drive to Whistler, BC, for a few days. We packed quickly, trying to prioritise our daughter’s nap schedule as the reason for heading out immediately instead of waiting until evening. Already running on empty from the demands of a jet-lagged, breastfeeding baby, we pushed through the fatigue. Sam was so excited to mountain bike in Whistler that we just went for it, driving about three hours north to start the adventure.

We dropped off our things and headed out to explore. It wasn’t until we returned to the hotel that night that I realised something awful: I had left literally every single one of my belongings at my friend’s place in Washington. While packing, I had focused entirely on organising my daughter’s essentials and completely forgot I also had my own items to gather. I didn’t even bring a single shirt. It’s hard to describe the sinking feeling of disbelief and shock, the humiliating moment of confessing this to my husband, and the extremely embarrassing message I had to send to my friend back in Bellingham.

This story, like so many others, is familiar and relatable to women with ADHD, caregivers trying to recalibrate, and people in general doing their best while juggling too much. This particular moment (and others I shared in this comic) are cringeworthy, but they’re also a gentle reminder to everyone out there to forgive themselves when things fall apart.

Joshua Santospirito, the Graphic Narratives editor at Island Magazine, wrote this in regards to this piece for Island Magazine: “There are few people foolish enough to attempt the graphic novel: it effectively involves writing a feature-length movie and then following that up with years of drawing, colouring and then drawing some more. Pushing out a doctorate would be better for your social life and posture. Alyssa Bermudez has created two graphic novels in her life now. Chalk the first one up to naivety, but the second? But her stories are all about mistakes. In her comic for this issue you can see the two ever-present components to any classic Bermudez story, the two sides of her wisdom coin. Side one is the generosity and kindness Alyssa has for past versions of herself and her past poor decisions. Side two is how she laughs and laughs and laughs at past versions of herself and her past poor decisions. Plenty to admire.”

I’d love to hear from you in the comments. And if you enjoyed the comic snippets, the full piece appeared in Island magazine, and I would love if you checked it out.

Thanks for being here, and thank you for making space for the messy parts too.