AWRYTE | Weekly Post | ~1,115 words “You’re so articulate.” It’s always meant as praise. Said with a smile. Sometimes even surprise. But what they’re really saying is, “You don’t sound like you’re struggling.” And that’s the problem. I’ve always had a way with words. Teachers noticed it early. Grown-ups praised me for it. I was the kid who could explain things clearly, make a case for anything, read the room well enough to adjust my tone on cue. They called it a gift. But no

AWRYTE | Weekly Post “You’ll get used to it.” I’ve heard that my whole life. About lights. Noise. Smells. Clothing. Touch. Crowds. Fluorescent classrooms. Humming appliances. Sudden change. “You’ll get used to it,” they say, like it’s a matter of time or toughness. Like I just need to stop being so dramatic, and eventually, my nervous system will catch up. But I don’t get used to it. I go away from it. When something is too much for me—too loud, too bright, too sudden, too un

Sometimes I laugh so you don’t see me cry. Sometimes I nod so you stop asking questions. Sometimes I smile because I was trained to, not because I feel okay. That’s what masking looks like—on a good day. The phrase “masking” sounds theatrical, like a costume you put on for a few hours and then take off when the curtain falls. But for me, it was never a show. It was how I kept my place in rooms that never felt built for me in the first place. I didn’t start faking emotions to

I’ve been called intense, cold, fake, shy, oversensitive, oblivious, dramatic—and that’s just by people who claimed to care about me. It’s not that they were cruel. It’s that they were wrong. My entire life, I’ve been misread. People think they’re seeing the real me, but they’re only getting the version I’ve rehearsed well enough to survive the moment. What they don’t see is that everything I say, do, wear, or hold back is calculated. Not in a manipulative way—but in a self-p

As I reflect on my past—through the lens of autism and the slow, sometimes clumsy work of self-acceptance—I had a moment of clarity that...

There’s something undeniably magical about a perfectly timed pun or a clever play on words. For me, these little linguistic gems aren’t...

Let’s get one thing straight: I’m irrationally attached to my favorite spoon. Not just any spoon— the spoon. It’s that one piece of...

hanging plans feels like pulling the rug out from under me, leaving me scrambling to find my balance in a situation.

When I respond to someone's shared story with one of my own, it's my way of saying, 'I hear you, I understand you, and you’re not alone.'

There’s something about cooking and eating alone that just feels right to me.

It’s taken me a long time, but I’m finally learning to own my “extra” and embrace it as a fundamental part of who I am.

"Common sense." It’s a term people throw around casually, as if it’s something everyone naturally has. The assumption is that we’re all...

Parenting is challenging on the best of days, but raising a neurodivergent child brings a unique set of difficulties that many can’t...

For those of us on the autism spectrum, survival mode is not an occasional state; it's a constant. We're navigating an environment...

You know the move—slipping out of a gathering without saying a word, no drawn-out farewells, no obligatory small talk.