Radical Authenticity
For most of my life, I hid who I really was. I masked my autistic traits, adjusted my behavior to blend in, and chased acceptance from people who didn’t really see me. But one day, I realized—what’s the point? I was exhausted, miserable, and never truly happy. So I started letting my real self show. It was terrifying, but for the first time, I felt a sense of freedom. Being radically authentic is hard, but it’s the only way to find people who truly get you.
Horns & Jazz Are My Nemesis
I’ve always known I don’t like jazz—especially when horns are involved. My brother tried every trick in the book to convince me otherwise, but nothing could change my mind. Turns out, I might have misophonia, which means my brain just can’t handle certain sounds. Now armed with earplugs and a bit of validation, I’m finally able to enjoy concerts (well, some concerts) without feeling like I’m losing my mind.
Our End State: Liberated Authenticity
As I sat in that dimly lit auditorium, I couldn’t keep my eyes on the stage. My son, just a few rows ahead, was shifting, chatting, and drawing the frustrated looks of everyone around him. My heart sank. I knew what was coming—the stares, the whispers, the “your son is disruptive” comments. I wanted to shout, “Please, just sit still!” But why? Was I more worried about him… or everyone else?
The Art of Cringe
I’ll never forget my first real cringe moment. I was in middle school, correcting a math problem the teacher got wrong—only to realize, in front of the entire class, that I was wrong too. Cue the snickers, the flushed cheeks, and that awful sinking feeling. It’s funny now, but back then, it was the ultimate “want to disappear” moment. Yet, looking back, it’s these awkward missteps that taught me to own my voice.
