Conference Thoughts

Takeaways from the Neurodivergent Publishing Conference, 2024

I am writing this on the eve the conference ended while still experiencing the rush and weariness of the experience of all of it. The joy and emotional highs are carrying me through, though. However, I wanted to address a very specific experience I had this weekend that I feel needs to be shared. Careful, this ventures into “vulnerable feels” territory.

This conference I learned a lot of things. Not the least of which was getting slapped in the head for not delegating more and for not paying attention to my needs in a timely manner. I had a health emergency a few weeks ago that has me going in for surgery the end of this week. Because I didn’t delegate and kept everything in my own head, things almost went off the rails as a result. They didn’t. My people did an amazing job, and I am so deeply grateful for them, for my community, and for everyone who brought this together.

Photo by Shane Rounce on Unsplash

Anybody who knows me for about fifteen minutes will swiftly pick up on the fact that I work extremely hard and invest in being a safe person to talk to. I do everything I can to put others at ease, make them feel seen, heard, and cared for. I have had complete strangers confess their deepest secrets to me on the train a few times, or within a few minutes of meeting me. I just have that effect on people. It’s not a brag — it can be a lot of emotional heavy lifting, and can be a challenge. However, it is a deep honor of mine to carry those things with people and to be present in a world that so often would rather be anywhere else when someone is in distress.

However, relying on others is a challenge for me.

Being relied upon I can do and hold and manage all damn day with a smile. If I need someone to carry me on occasion, though, I’m truly awful at it. Not because I don’t like people around me, but both because trust is not something I give well or easily, and because I detest the idea of not being able to do things on my own. Needless to say, that all comes out of facets of my own trauma and psychology that I deal with in therapy, but… it’s still real.

This year, that need to rely on others (and the fact that I can rely on others in my community to help carry me when I stumble) was shown to me in stark relief. From the person who sent me a crate of meal shakes because I was unable to eat, to the friend who DoorDashed me soup multiple times when I couldn’t get out of bed to get a meal, to the people who stepped up at the conference to help manage things and handle problems that arose. I also had personal friends catch me when I had a terrible emotional breakdown just before the conference as a product of both being in unrelenting physical pain as well as not having been able to eat for a week.

It was eye-opening and kind of a stark reminder that yes, in fact, I need to learn to rely on others, and not only that, they will catch me. I really needed that lesson, and it’s something I am trying to internalize. Also, being vulnerable about this in a public space is more a matter of me trying to share this in case someone else benefits from it. While not every situation or group will catch you, the right people will. Finding those people can be hard won and difficult, but the right folks will catch you when you struggle, and you don’t need to handle everything.

I can’t tell you how often I’ve said those words to other people over the years. I’ve said it over and over again while holding space for folks and catching them whenever I can. Having it done to me was very different, and I have a lot of feelings about it that’ll make me emotional mush if I think about them too long. Mostly gratitude, though I definitely am fighting a battle with the ghosts of people in my past who told me that accepting help was shameful. Generational trauma and internalized ableism and classism, for sure. It’s things I’m trying to unknot in myself.

The reason I’m telling you all this is because vulnerability is a form of strength. Being open, honest, and raw is terrifying. I don’t like having written this, and it’s making me bristle a little because I have an image of being bulletproof with a lot of people. I’m not. That said, I also know I am extremely strong and enduring after everything I’ve experienced.

Part of my “brand” is this unvarnished honesty. I am a human being just like you are. We are human beings. The world is human beings. Everybody is just as much of a weird disaster as you think you are, and the only folks who say otherwise are lying. Even if that lie is only to themselves.

While we all face different struggles (and some are more significant than others — not going to hide that one), we all at times need grace, support, and tenderness. We all have times we fall apart and need to be caught. We all have moments that things just plain unravel for us. We all make mistakes. What defines us is the fact that we can look at those mistakes, learn from them, and grow.

Next year, I am going to allow people to do the work that I have tried to do myself until it almost knocked me to the ground and buried me. Next year, I am going to share the burden. Next year, and going forward, I am going to choose trust. It may not always be met, but I am going to choose it. And I am going to choose to be vulnerable, open, and try and let people in.

I don’t need to pretend to be bulletproof. I already am. And I have the scars to show it.