My therapist has encouraged me to organize my thoughts and memories into chapters, helping me create an index for my life. Right now, I’m in Chapter 2, which spans ages 25 to 50. I turn 49 this year—24 more years than I ever thought I’d see—but here I am, and I’m grateful.

I’ve faced many challenges, countless difficulties. Sometimes it feels like my life is running on empty: mov eax, 0—no experience loaded. Adjusting to synchronicity has been a struggle. I sense so many mental strings waiting to be plucked, each carrying a story that could be heard, shared, and experienced by others. But right now, I feel my focus needs to turn inward, giving my “shell” the attention it requires.

The voice of Thomas is settling into the house of Thomas. I’m adjusting the volume, fine-tuning the levels to make the final stretch of Chapter 2 as harmonious as possible. It’s not beyond my capability. I’ve always discouraged unnecessary curiosity, especially indulgence, in things that don’t serve me. I’m playing by the rules of this game. Others may try to rewrite the code or hack their way through life for personal gain, and that’s fine—everyone has their path. But here, I don’t seek validation or yearn to belong. I ask myself, “Will I fit in? Do I have a place?” It doesn’t matter because I’m here. What matters most is that I get to be my authentic self.

My Superpower

With ASD, ADHD, and dyslexia, I’ve learned to shift my vibrations to either match or harmonize with others. It’s a skill I recently discovered, called empathetic resonance. I need to practice listening with intent. My therapist has helped me realign with my life force, reminding me of the value of this gift: the ability to blend in while staying true to myself.

I don’t always know my role in the grand orchestration of life. Living with duality means I can empathize with and understand the extreme swings in life’s choices. Some choices are ours, while others simply are. Five fingers per hand, not four or six. Two eyes, two ears, one mouth, one brain. And yet, coordinating all those parts into one cohesive “Voltron” of physical self without diminishing others feels like a constant challenge. I don’t want to rise above anyone else. We don’t need to be better than anyone; we just want to be better together. We each contribute our wisdom to the collective pool of knowledge and experiences.

I’ve fallen down many rabbit holes, but tonight, I’m here to make sense of it all. Am I falling behind, or am I racing ahead so quickly that others can’t keep up? Damned if I do, damned for even thinking about it. There’s this shell I want to tear off, but beneath it, there’s only my purest self—no mask, no pretense. I’m just me, short of shaping myself into something more like everyone else.

I often find myself caught between being true to myself and wanting the best for my team, my family, and my loved ones. At times, I feel the need to detach entirely. I help others untangle their aether webs, whether that means offering something as simple as a warm pair of socks or buying an absurd amount of candy for Boo Bash. She absolutely crushed it, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.

But then, there’s this lingering question: How do you explain the struggle in simple terms? Imagine being stuck in a place where you feel dumber than you are, finding comfort in misery because you can’t understand why anyone would choose to live this way. You had every opportunity to help pull me out of the darkness, but you chose to stay where you were, rooted in who you are, not who you could become.

As the holiday season approaches, I wish everyone joy and peace. I need to give my mind and soul the time to heal. Chapter 3 begins in just under a year, and I want to be ready for it.

By the way, trash day is Monday. Happy Holidays, indeed.