Famous, or Just Functioning? Either Way, I'm Writing It Down

Today was therapy day with Jennifer—who, let’s be honest, is basically a fan at this point. I gave her several of my recent blog posts: the one about the crown, the hot jerky shutdown one, and the recovery post. (Yes, that flaming cow meat tried to take me out, and yes, I lived to tell the tale.)

Anyway, she loved them. She even asked for my blog link. Apparently, she wants to share them with the practice owner and some of the other therapists at the clinic.

She said I’m one of her success stories.

Me? A success story?

Honestly, I don’t feel like one. I’m just an autistic person trying to survive in a world that’s too loud, too bright, and absolutely allergic to clear instructions. I write because I need to. Because if I don’t, the thoughts pile up like unsorted laundry. It’s not about being seen—it’s about staying sane.

But something shifted today. The idea that my words could actually help someone? That maybe what I’ve been surviving could offer someone else a bit of light? That’s… huge.

I’m still not sure I believe it. But I’m willing to sit with it.

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🧠 Reflection

Being recognized for something you didn’t do on purpose—like surviving—is strange. I didn’t write to become someone’s “story.” I wrote because I didn’t know what else to do. But maybe the raw, real stuff is the story. Maybe surviving isn’t just about making it through. Maybe it’s also about making it count.

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🧰 Coping Strategies I Used Today

Shared my personal writing in therapy (which felt scary, but good).

Let myself laugh and be weird instead of masking.

Accepted that sometimes being “noticed” doesn’t mean being judged—it means being valued.

Gave myself permission to take up space with my voice and words.

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📚 What I Learned

Sometimes, other people can see your progress before you do. That doesn’t make it less real.

Also: if writing is a lifeline, then sharing it might be a lighthouse for someone else.

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🔄 What I Need to Do Differently

Stop brushing off compliments like lint.

Start seeing my writing as more than survival—it’s community, connection, and maybe even change.