I had a conversation today that struck deeper than I expected.
We were talking over Zoom; me half-propped up in bed with a glass of water, laptop balanced on a pillow, watching rain streak down the window beside me.
One of those conversations that sneaks up on you. No awkward silences. Just the kind of quiet that means something true is about to be said.
It was one of my first mentors in the autism world. Someone who knew me before I had the language to explain myself. We were talking about community; what it’s given us, what it’s rescued us from.
And then I said something that came out half-laugh, half-truth:
“This happy-go-lucky attitude of mine doesn’t happen in a vacuum.”
I blinked. Let it land.
Because it doesn’t. And it never has.
People see the smile. The humor. The part of me that keeps showing up even when life’s throwing furniture.
But what they don’t see is the scaffolding.
The friends who remind me who I am when I forget.
The texts that say, “You’ve got this,” when my brain is playing reruns of every time I didn’t.
The ones who just sit next to me in the mental chaos—no fix-it energy, no agenda—just presence.
I used to think strength meant doing everything solo.
Now I know better. Strength is knowing who your people are when your emotional weather turns fast and unforgiving.
It’s the text you send when you feel like a mess.
It’s the call you take even when you feel like you have nothing good to say.
Community isn’t bonus content. It’s emotional duct tape.
It’s the soft net that keeps you from cracking your soul on the pavement.
Turns out, I’m not self-made.
I’m community-made. Relationship-reinforced. Held together by a group project I finally stopped trying to do all the slides for by myself.
So if your happy-go-lucky has gone suspiciously quiet lately…
If getting through the day feels like dragging your brain uphill in a thunderstorm…
Maybe it’s not that you’re broken.
Maybe you’re just trying to do what was never meant to be done alone.
Turns out, none of us grow in a vacuum.
We grow in connection.
And that’s not a weakness.
That’s the design.
Want more than just perspective?
Book a Power Hour with me — one focused, no-fluff session to get clarity, strategy, or a solid kick in the gears.
Thanks for being you.
— Brian