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Dear Label Infatuated,


At age 30 I joined a very distinct group of women who were learning through official diagnosis processes or through self diagnosis processes of taking tests, reading books, and exploring perspectives.

I had been missed.

I had been overlooked.

I had been assumed to be too perfect to possibly warrant the labels, that I knew, deep in my heart, were accurate.


At age 30 I learned life alternating and perspective shifting news.

All of my eccentricities, sensitivities, quirks and challenges had a name, Autism.


One year later, I proudly walk through life with my new proud label of neuro-divergent person.


‘Autistic’ is too narrowly defined and doesn’t celebrate my creativity, my wonder at the world's beauty.

‘Disabled’ frames my challenges as deficits rather than differences.

Woman fails to acknowledge the lack of comfort that I have always felt with girlfriends due to the underlying nuance and social cues I have never understood. The discomfort and dysregulation of tight clothes, scented make-up, restrictive shoes.

I am rediscovering what it means to be me by challenging expectations that I achieve, achieve, achieve.

Always be willing to take on problems and turn things around. Smile. Look pretty. Be pleasing.

This journey has been about pushing back on what it means to be a woman, but also what it looks like to be an appreciated and thriving member of society.


To my uncle who asks why I’m not smiling, to my grandmother who asks why I’m not married, to my sister who asks why I don’t look more put together…

I am enough.

Just as I am.

I don’t need that validation from you all anymore.

I know I am enough and that I cannot be contained by your labels.


-Unbound







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