The Archive

A deeply personal reflection on identity-first language in autism - why saying “I’m Autistic” isn’t grammar, but a declaration of wholeness.

Autistic inconsistency doesn’t just shape what we do. It shapes who we get to become. This is the grief of walking away - not from failure, but from possibility.

Queer love was supposed to free us from roles—but often, old scripts sneak back in. For neurodivergent partners especially, the pressure to perform instead of co-create intimacy can feel like betrayal. Here’s a reflection on how role-free love offers liberation, tenderness, and truer connection.

Autistic inconsistency doesn’t just shape what we do. It shapes who we get to become. This is the grief of walking away - not from failure, but from possibility.

76 hours. Countless messages. Escalating rage. One weekend that ended everything. If you’ve survived narcissistic abuse, you’ll recognize the pattern. If you haven’t, you’ll understand it after this.

What does it mean to survive as a neurodivergent person in a world built to break you? This isn’t a hero story. It’s a record of what it really felt like.

What does it mean to survive as a neurodivergent person in a world built to break you? This isn’t a hero story. It’s a record of what it really felt like.

What does it mean to survive as a neurodivergent person in a world built to break you? This isn’t a hero story. It’s a record of what it really felt like.

Benevolent ableism wears the mask of kindness but quietly narrows life. It shows up as unsolicited help, endless scorekeeping, or being placed on a pedestal instead of being known. This piece unpacks the no-win choices it creates and why the grief it leaves behind is as real—and as heavy—as it feels.

Everyday ableism isn’t always loud. It shows up in kitchens rearranged, in jokes at work, in care that misses the mark. This series rates those moments—from one star to five—to show what true support feels like.

What happens when two neurodivergent queer people build love without roles, scripts, or power plays? This post explores the future of queer connection—and the freedom that comes when we stop reenacting the systems that harmed us.

When narcissistic abuse meets neurodivergence, it exploits empathy and self-doubt. This post names the tactics and offers a path back to your truth.

Why does the term neuroqueer spark discomfort? This post explores the cultural tensions, critiques, and contradictions that come with identity-in-motion.

What does neuroqueering look like when it’s not a theory - but a life? From soft resistance to weird communication, here’s how we quietly live it.

I was never hard to love. But I was taught to be quiet, to disappear, to comply. This personal essay is about what behavioral therapy took—and who I might’ve become without it.

Where did the word neuroqueer come from? This post explores its roots in queer theory, disability justice, and the lived experience of being both too much and not enough.

Identity-first language autism is more than a grammar choice—it’s about belonging, truth, and the right to define ourselves.

What does neuroqueer really mean? In this first post of the series, we explore the roots, resonance, and radical potential of a word that feels like home.

A personal reflection on autistic burnout—what caused it, how it impacted my mind, body & life, and what rebuilding capacity looks like now.

Neuroqueer gender identity is fluid, dynamic, and shaped by sensory and social experiences. This post explores how authenticity emerges when we stop performing for others.