The Courage To Be Different
At 5 years old, my family joined a swim club. I “decided” that I knew how to swim and insisted on taking the swim test, which meant I would have to swim all the way to the deep end. Despite my mom’s insistence that I didn’t know how to swim, I convinced her and the life guard to let me try. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I couldn’t do it. With the life guard’s help, I got out of the pool, but not without making a brazen declaration: “By the time the summer ends, not only will I pass the swim test, but I will also jump off the high diving board!” Despite the seeming outrageousness of my declaration, before Labor Day that season, wearing my very official “deep end certified bracelet,” I climbed the stairs of the diving board, looked out at the lifeguards, waved to my mom, and leapt into the air, falling 10 feet before splash landing.
That same bold, brave, and stubborn kid also grew up believing that she was “too serious and too sensitive,” that there was something inherently wrong with her that needed to be “fixed.”
I was different from my peers and often acutely aware of it. My emotions were often “big emotions.” I couldn’t understand why kids were so mean to one another. I couldn’t figure out why drugs, sex, and alcohol were so cool. Why didn’t more people recycle? Why was power so popular when it seemed anything but kind. Why were honesty and integrity so hard to come by?
I can remember many instances when my passions and emotions differed from my peers. My entrepreneurial spirit and quest to save the earth in elementary school. Finding immense joy through community service with the elderly in high school and my passion for natural medicine and spirituality. Protesting Hummers and advocating for a woman’s right to choose in college. As an adult, I can appreciate the ways that I was kind, deep, courageous, purpose-driven, and unique. But back then, feelings of loneliness, depression, brokenness, and anxiety got in the way, and my connection to my innate value was barely recognizable.
When I stumbled upon my first opportunity to teach yoga to families with autistic kids in 2009, that brave, bold kid burst forth in me in a brand new way. She leapt at the opportunity, having no idea that she was diving into a life-changing moment. The parts of myself that I had long ago deemed “broken and inexcusable” transformed into my greatest assets. I still remember a stressed out parent who dragged her screaming son toward the door, so accustomed to not being accepted in public spaces. I walked over and showered them with love and acceptance without thinking twice. Pretty soon, that same kid was helping me teach the class, showing great focus and enthusiasm. The Infinite U was born a few months later, and my sensitivity, kindness, gentleness, depth, courage, and stubbornness have led the way.
Whether in my private sessions with kids, teens, or families, or as I lead groups for adolescents, I am intent on highlighting the gifts within every individual’s uniqueness. Knowing the pain of losing sight of my innate value and misunderstanding my difference, I want more for others. I had no idea when I was 5, 12, 19, or even 25, that it would become my life’s mission to support other young people-especially those who are highly sensitive, creative in their thinking, and often easily overwhelmed-to stay in close connection with their uniqueness and inherent value. I believe it is in their unique ways of thinking and being that they will make their greatest contributions to this planet. With 99% of the population considered neurotypical, and our society’s current state of rampant violence, power struggles, over-stimulation, lying, and pressure to “fit in”, I believe that neurodivergence offers the creative solutions, kindness, and honesty that we need to create a more peaceful, accepting, and safe world for all beings. We don’t need more of the same. We need people courageous enough to be different-to be their unique and amazing selves-to teach us the way forward.
