Your Neuroverse

This morning, I woke up far later than I intended, weighed down by the nagging realization that I’ve been slowly drifting away from the plan I set to maintain my sense of balance. Pushing yourself to follow through on tasks—especially when the payoff is uncertain and distant—is no small feat. It’s even harder for those of us with neurodivergent tendencies who lean toward instant gratification over delayed rewards. When the effort to keep going feels greater than the promise of success, it becomes all too easy to take a break—and then let that break stretch into abandonment.

This train of thought brought me back to the famous Stanford marshmallow experiment. Conducted in 1970 by psychologist Walter Mischel, the study explored delayed gratification. Children were left alone in a room with a single marshmallow (or another treat) on the table. They were told they could either eat it immediately or wait until the researcher returned to receive two marshmallows as a reward. Hidden cameras captured how some children ate the marshmallow right away, while others managed to wait by distracting themselves—singing, playing, or looking away.

Follow-up studies revealed that the children who waited longer tended to achieve better life outcomes. However, as the experiment was replicated on more diverse samples, researchers found that factors like socioeconomic background were stronger predictors of future success than sheer willpower. Validating, isn’t it?

How often have we been told that our struggles stem solely from laziness or a lack of discipline? How many of us internalized those messages, adapting to a life that dismisses the complexity of our challenges? How much of our worth gets tied to our ability to fit into society’s idea of “normal”?

But what is normal, anyway?

Looking at definitions of “normal,” with words like “unremarkable,” “ordinary,” and “unexceptional,” I’m certain I don’t want to be normal. Add “vanilla” to the list, and I’ll pass—though I do love plain vanilla ice cream. That’s probably the only vanilla thing about me.

Last night, I finished watching the show Beef. What began as entertaining quickly turned dark, exploring themes like anger, resentment, class divides, family, loneliness, and connection. In the final episode, the two main characters have a striking exchange: “Maybe we aren’t normal. Maybe we’re too messed up. Or maybe all normal people are just delusional, messed-up people.” That hit close to home.

One of my favorite songs is Eminem’s “Rap God.” A record-breaking masterpiece from a lyrical genius, it includes the line: “You want normal? F*** being normal!” If anyone proves that normalcy doesn’t lead to greatness, it’s Eminem. Rising from rock bottom, he made a fresh start, pulled himself up, and created a legacy.

While we’re not all destined for legendary greatness, we each have something extraordinary within us. Yet, so many of us are told to “keep our heads down” and conform, losing our unique spark along the way. This isn’t to say that ordinary paths lack value, but no one should have to dim their light to fit in or to make others feel comfortable.

My thoughts tend to wander, jumping from one idea to another. Somehow, in my mind, it all connects—though perhaps with a few missing threads. One day, I’ll revisit these musings, refining and stitching them into a cohesive narrative. For now, they remain a collection of ideas I believe are worth exploring.

To my daughters, I want you to know how proud I am of you. Sometimes, I wish you had a “normal” family, living a “normal” life in the community we’ve found ourselves in. It might be easier, clearer, more predictable. But the world is so much bigger, richer, and more magical than the boxes we’re often asked to fit into.

My hope for you is to see the beauty in your uniqueness. To understand that the limits people impose are often built out of fear, not truth. You are extraordinary, and I hope you never let anyone dim your spark. Grow up feeling comfortable in your own skin. Express yourselves authentically, even if it means walking away from places that don’t celebrate you. That’s okay. Find your tribe—the people who cherish you for who you are.

Sending you the energy of my infinite love.

XO, Mom