Naked in the Town Square
And I put myself there
Hey, folks. I hope the past couple of weeks have contained nuggets of play, quality time or at least some good grub. I, myself, am emerging from the holidays with a relatively full cup, and a hankering for some time on the slopes.
If you don’t follow me on social media, you might have missed this — but last week I made a video recounting a recent experience I had at a queer club in Portland, Oregon. I approached a group outside the venue and almost immediately upon my joining their circle, a girl turned to me and asked, “Do you have autism?”
This was — obviously — very jarring. Unbeknownst to her, for the past year I had been investigating that very possibility with my therapist and loved ones. Upon explaining this, she responded, “I have autism, and I think you do too.” Now, this woman was kind, and gentle, and received my rather emotional response graciously and with warmth, but a revelation like that knocks the wind out of you. In the following days, I spoke with friends, family and my therapist about this strange experience, and was met with a variety of reactions ranging from validating to skeptical.
Candidly, this encounter — though somewhat destabilizing — made me feel vindicated. Was my hypothesis about my own neurodivergence accurate? And if so, what does that mean for my life?
Then, I made a decision I have come to regret; I filmed and posted a video discussing that night and my subsequent reaction. I first uploaded it to TikTok, where I (ironically) tend to feel comfortable sharing vulnerably. Then, I debated uploading it to Instagram, where most of my followers are personal connections rather than strangers, and decided to send it on a whim. In my mind, I had long been combatting this festering belief that people think I’m weird, and felt that this anecdote could provide them with an explanation for why they may find me quirky or odd. The choice came from a place of insecurity and shame, sadly. It was ultimately an attempt at controlling others’ perceptions of me.
The next morning, I woke up with a pit in my stomach — why on EARTH did I post that fucking video???? It was teeming with raw vulnerability and emotion. And despite the fact that I had been in conversations about the potential of such a diagnosis for the past year, it felt half-baked given the event’s recency. Before posting, I knew it was a risk to share something so unresolved, but felt frustrated by the fact that so much of the vulnerability we’re shown online comes from people who have tied a bow on a given quandary or challenge. It’s not often that I see someone talk about the muck they’re currently submerged in. And after last week, I understand why.
While I acknowledged the fact that the “diagnosis” I’d received wasn’t a credible one, I felt icky about having jumped the gun and sharing my inner turmoil before arriving at a more even-keeled place. This experience really helped me understand the value of processing offline, and the danger of processing online. While the responses on both TikTok and Instagram were overwhelmingly positive, I had people in the comments saying things like, “I’ve thought this about you for a while and didn’t want to say anything,” and“I can tell by your eye movement…”
Scrutiny like this feels pretty incompatible with arriving at a place of personal clarity; others’ observations (especially those of people who don’t know me) can really cloud the process. I simultaneously lent immediate credibility to these strangers given their removed and “objective” angle, and questioned whether their observations held any water given the tiny snapshot they were working with. And while I was stunned and honored that a handful of people in my personal life reached out generously sharing their own experience with navigating this same thing, I felt preoccupied (and nauseated!) by how many people on Instagram had shared/sent my post, and were likely gossiping about me behind closed doors (or so I anxiously suspected).
So, I woke up that morning feeling as though I was naked in the town square, and had carelessly placed myself there willingly. I temporarily deactivated my Instagram and TikTok, talked to friends, talked to family, talked to my therapist (squad up), and came to the conclusion that I need a reset. I want to get really clear about what the point of social media is for me, and approach decisions of what to post and what to keep private with discernment and patience. Thankfully, I have this forum which feels safe, creatively stimulating, and well-aligned with my longterm goals. So I won’t be abandoning this project any time soon :)
The Mel Robbins Podcast: “How to Make Next Year the Best Year: Ask Yourself These 7 Questions” (link)
In this episode, she makes a case for reflecting upon the past year before setting resolutions for the upcoming one. In her words:
“I always think about planning and goal-setting in this time of year like creating a set of directions. Have you ever had the experience where you’re trying to find a friend’s house, right? And maybe you’ve never been there before and you’re a little lost. And so you call your friend, you’re like, ‘I know I’m close, but how do I get to your house? Can you help me get there?’ What’s the first thing they ask you? ‘Can you tell me where you are?’ The reason why somebody asks you where are you is because mathematically-speaking, it’s impossible to give somebody directions unless we know two things: where are you, and where do you want to go?”
This type of audit helps us distill the wisdom we’ve garnered, and jog our memory of all that’s occurred over the past 12 months. I’m recommending this one prematurely — I’ll be doing this with a couple pals and my cousin in the next day or so. But Mel offered this reflective exercise last year, and I was a big fan.
“Teddy Knit Top” from Reformation (link)
I bought this shirt a couple weeks ago and wow, is it sexy. I wore it to a holiday party as someone’s plus one, which garnered me many a compliment (and honestly many a kiss…) A gentleman did spill red wine down the front, so that’s not great but can’t win em all.
I love it so much I bought it in black, too (which is ON SALE for 30% off????) This is a run don’t walk typa thing. Also I wear a medium cause I like the bottom to flair out a bit.
New readers: welcome!! So happy to have you. I’d love if people would drop a comment — to draw from Mel’s wisdom, maybe tell us something you’re proud of from this past year. Or anything else you’re reflecting on as we transition away from 2024.
Looking forward to hearing from you, and to returning here next week.
Xx
Bec