I Am a Hat on a Hat on a Hat

The one you're hearing right now, this scripted version, is my written voice, the most articulate version of me cultivated through a lifelong pursuit to find just the right words to say what's true, which aided me in three decades of projects in film and theater and education.

But it's also a voice that's thawing out after going silent under the weight of managing a complex chronic illness.

You're also going to hear me in conversation with my guests, where I might sound quieter, slower, more measured and agreeable.

And that's real too.

That's what it sounds like when a high masking neurocomplex person is managing a live conversation while also trying to be present in it.

It's why this show has scripted reflections.

Neither version is more true than the other, and that's by design.

When I am under extreme stress, my speaking voice goes first, then my written voice.

Trauma, overwhelm, the weight of managing everything eventually wears me down to a point where, to conserve energy, my ability to keep up with conversations stops.

And eventually the writing stops too.

For the last few years, in order to cope, I went quiet.

When I go silent as a writer, that's a dangerous place for me.

And the only way to get it back is to make my underlying health needs a priority.

And so what you're hearing right now is both voices thawing out together at the same time, intentionally, in public.

It feels awkward and rusty and terrifying and glorious, all at the same time.

My written voice might sound more articulate than my speaking voice right now, But together, hopefully they show you what it looks like for someone like me to emerge, to come back, to find the words again.