When you lose track of time doing something you love, people call you disorganized. Lazy. Careless. But here’s the truth: I’m autistic. I experience time blindness. When I dive into one of my special interests, I don’t just focus—I disappear into it. Hours slip by. I forget to eat. I forget to sleep. Sometimes, I even forget I exist. It’s not a lack of discipline. It’s a different experience of time. A Timer and a Compass My papa understood this before I had the words to explain it. He’d gently say, “Keep a timer nearby, kiddo.” Not as a rule or punishment, but like a little life hack. “Set it so you remember to take a break.” He didn’t want to stop my passion—he wanted to help me protect my body while letting my mind soar. That small kindness stuck with me. A timer became not just a reminder to eat or stretch—but a quiet message: You matter, too. The World Thinks I’m Disorganized—But They Don’t See the Whole Picture People see the missed meals, the forgotten texts, the way I disappear...