Before I knew I was autistic, I just thought I was bad at communication. Too long-winded. Too intense. Too much. In this episode, I share two workplace stories that shook my confidence, and how years later, I finally understood what was actually happening beneath the surface. This is a story about masking, misunderstanding, and the invisible rules of professional tone. It’s also about reclaiming my voice, and the tools that helped me do it.

I’ve always been a reader.

At 12, it was comic books under the covers with a flashlight at 2am.

At 9, it was Little Women in a plum tree in Bolivia.

And yes, at 14, I figured out how to read in the shower.

I wedged the book against the wall, body shielding it from the spray.

Crusty pages, warped covers, no regrets.

Books have always been my escape. My regulation. My joy. Long before I knew I was autistic.

There’s a reason I have a tattoo that says paper has more patience than people.

Books don’t judge. They let me exist as I am: curious, quiet, intense.

Reading isn’t just a hobby for me. It’s a core part of my identity. A special interest. A sensory sanctuary. A way to quiet my brain in a world that never stops buzzing.

And honestly? I’ve built a life around that.

I bought a house with a pool not to swim, but to float and read.

I drive with audiobooks.

I consider 100 Years of Solitude the greatest novel of all time, and I’ve read it in Spanish, on paper, and in audio.

Fiction lets me exist in alternate realities.

It lets me rest.

There’s a graveyard of unfinished projects behind me. Passion sites, half-written blogs, domains I forgot to renew. But every single one was born from that same place: A mind that needs to go deep.

Hyperfocus isn’t a flaw.

It’s how I survive.

It’s how I win.

At work, it means I hit deadlines early and see patterns no one else does.

At home, it means I get lost in magical realism and come out more whole than before.

So if you’ve ever felt “too much” because you love something so fiercely it consumes you:

You’re not too much.

You’re just tuned in.

This episode is for the readers, the overthinkers, the audiobook apologists. The ones who know the story isn’t an escape. It’s a return to self.

If this episode resonated, I’d love to have you along for the ride. You can stay tuned by subscribing and considering supporting my work.

Y’all, I did it.

The first episode of Off on a Tangent is out in the world.

It’s called The Diagnosis, and it tells the story of how I found out I was autistic at 41.

Not just suspected. Not joked about in therapy. Not “maybe I should get tested.”

Confirmed. In writing. Alone in my house. Staring at a PDF from a neuropsychologist.

Level 2 autism. Two comorbidities. (Not ready to talk about those yet.)

That one moment reframed my entire life.

I finally understood why I was always exhausted. Why I kept getting sick. Why I felt like I was never quite getting it at work even though I was giving it everything I had.

So I did what the paperwork said I could: I asked for accommodations. Written instructions. Scheduled calls. Nothing wild.

Instead, I got laid off.

I signed the severance. I can’t name names. But I can tell the story.

This episode is about what it felt like to be handed the truth about who I am and then punished for it.

But it’s also about what I did next:

How I chose visibility.

How I started telling my story.

How I began to unmask, in public, on purpose.

And how this podcast was born.

Please listen to the first episode and consider subscribing. 💌