Differently fabulous

Have you ever felt out of step?

Like maybe you just didn’t fit in, but didn’t know why? Or like no matter how hard you try, you’d never be one of the cool kids? 😎

I sure have.

It started when I went to kindergarten. When everyone dutifully plonked down to take a nap, I asked to go back outside to play. Or read a book. Or play quietly in a corner.

Instead, I had to lie there looking at the kid next to me, wondering how in the world they could sleep like that, while I was bored out of my head. 🙄

My dad was a career Navy officer, so we moved a lot — almost always in the spring, so I was invariably the new kid in school. Plus, I was tall for my age, a redhead, and had an accent, so I stuck out like a sore thumb.

A few years ago I finally discovered the main reason I always felt so odd. I’m autistic and ADHD (AuDHD). I’m telling you, it was such a relief to finally know why I was perpetually confused, frustrated, and felt utterly broken. I was forever masking who I was — what I liked, what I thought, my sensory issues — all because I was so beaten down by being rejected or mocked my entire life. Not always, and certainly not by everyone. But enough that I became fearful of being myself. That’s a helluva way to exist.

So back to flowers.

My orchid started blooming a couple of months ago. The second flower popped up on the opposite side of the stem from the first, and I thought, “Oh, cool!” I thought they’d alternate like that. Eight have bloomed and only that second one has been on the other side of the stem. All on its own over there yet still blooming with the others. A bit out of step. Not isolated, but sort of. Looks like the others, but unquestionably different. Kind of with the group, but not fully part of the group.

That’s me. Toodling along, knowing I’m different, sure, but I’m acting like everyone else so I blend in, right? Right? Oh, guess not.

And then the day came when I chose to dance instead of march. Twirl instead of being in lockstep. Skip instead of trudge. Fly instead of slog. I knew the only way to truly live was to be fully, authentically ME.

I asked my mom one time what she and my dad thought about some of the clearly odd things I did as a toddler. “We thought you were normal,” she said, without a hint of irony. Every time I remember this, I laugh so hard I think I’ll crack a rib. It says everything about how loved and accepted I am by my family — and about our collective neurodivergence. We are all weird together, and, therefore, completely normal and totally beautiful. 🥰

I have a feeling that since you are reading this letter, you’re probably an orchid kinda like me. Over here just doing your thing, being your fabulous self, and maybe just feeling a bit out of step with the other flowers now and again. Believe me when I tell you that you are AMAZING. Wondrous. Beautiful to behold. You have so much to offer, so much to give. I know you are giving so much of yourself every day. You are such a bright light in this world, and I’m grateful to have you in my life. 🙏🏼💕

Celebrate your uniqueness. Let’s dance! Let’s twirl! Let’s fly!

💖

Zuzu

P.S. I saw a second hummingbird yesterday. She was at a feeder and then enjoyed the Salvia Amistad. I was so thrilled . . . AND remembered to breathe this time! 🤩

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