November 1, 2022 • 44 mins
At some point in any journey of self-discovery, you just have to start living. And that’s what Lauren needs to do. But before she can get on with it, she has to make peace — with herself and with others. She needs to allow herself to be a person with jumbo-sized feelings. And she needs the help of a guitar, a paintbrush and the lead singer of the band Big Thief — Adrianne Lenker — to get her there. Viva la feelings!
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:15):
Pushkin. Not too long ago, I had a situation out
in nature. It was during a hike at a wildlife
refuge with my dog Davy and my girlfriend Hannah. Davy
was off leash, bounding through the trees, following her dumb
dumb hound dog knows. All of a sudden, the dog
(00:36):
tore past me with something hanging from her mouth. If
you have a dog, you will be familiar with this move.
The dog knows she probably shouldn't have the thing that's
in her mouth, but she's so proud of her quarry
she can't help but show it off. As Davy was
running by me, she slowed down just enough so I
could see what was in her mouth. It was a squirrel. Now,
(01:02):
as long as I have had Davy, catching a live
animal has been the dream of her life. But because
row in, birds, butterflies, and bees are all way faster
than her, she's never fulfilled her great aspiration. When I
saw the lifeless animal flopping in the dog's mouth, I
shrieked and yelled at Davy to drop it, which she
(01:24):
did immediately because she is a very good girl. As
the squirrel fell from Davy's chops, I realized something terrible.
The squirrel was alive, but barely, and that is when
our hike took a very sad turn. You're listening to
(01:48):
the Loudest Girl in the world, who I believe I've
proven irrefutably and beyond all doubt is me Lauren Ober.
The Loudest Girl in the World is a show about
finding yourself broken in a pretty dark place and emerging
from that place a mostly glued back together person. And
(02:08):
in our final episode, I guess I need to find
a way to make that happen. I need to become
whole here, or almost whole anyway, if it hasn't been
made abundantly clear in the past eight episodes, I have
very big feelings. I wander through the world as if
(02:31):
my first layer of very pale skin is missing. All
of my nerves are just hanging out, exposed, waiting to
be set off by a spiky dog hair stuck in
my bra or the Harley Davidson exhaust rumble, or the
sight of a helpless, injured squirrel, which is what happened
on our hike. The second I saw the squirrel lying
(02:54):
on the trail, struggling to move its leg, obviously broken,
I lost it I collapsed in a flood of whales.
I had enough sense in the moment to grab the
dog's collar so she didn't do more damage to the
injured creature. But that was all the control I could muster.
I squatted down on the trail, paralyzed by sobs. It
(03:19):
felt like I was weeping for ages. I just couldn't stop.
The episode wasn't a total shock to Hannah. She had
once seen me break down in the middle of a
street in Savannah when I saw a sweaty sway back
draft horse pulling a cart full of equally sweaty tourists around.
She knows that animals in distress, or animals being mistreated,
(03:43):
or old animals or unwell animals tend to elicit an
outsized emotional response in me. But still, this was a lot.
After many minutes, I was able to compose myself to
walk away from this situation, but not before telling Hannah
(04:04):
that the squirrel needed to be put out of its misery.
It would suffer and ltimately meet a gruesome end if
we didn't do something, or, more accurately, if Hannah didn't
do something, Because it was only us in those woods.
To this day, some months later, I still don't know
(04:24):
if Hannah eased the squirrel over the Rainbow Bridge. I
just know that when we pass that same spot on
the trail later in our hike, the squirrel had been
released from its earthly body journey Mercy's Little Friend. The
thing about autistic meltdowns, these immense responses to emotional overload,
(04:49):
is that they are displays of primal, unadulterated feeling. They
are raw emotions, often stripped of words, meaning, and context.
They are purer and uncorrupted, though from the outside that's
not at all what they look like. To an observer.
My meltdown stay would most likely appear unhinged, maybe even deranged,
(05:14):
and I don't like that one bit. After squirrel strife
twenty twenty two happened, I talked to my new therapist
about it. Her name is Sandra, and a big part
of her practice is dedicated to autistic women and girls,
so she is not unfamiliar with the nature of the meltdown.
Our conversation was a real turning point for me in
(05:36):
terms of embracing my own feelings. So what is it
like to walk through the world feeling these really strong
feelings that can get ignited so easily. That's Sandra obviously,
Well who wants that? No one, right, I mean, because
(05:57):
because then you are disregulated, and that is not fun.
It doesn't just affect you, It affect the people who
you are close to. It probably prevents you from being
close to other people because it's like too much. Yeah,
(06:19):
And so here you are having all these feelings and
then on top of it, you feel like you push
away the people that you really care about, or that
there's a disconnect. They don't understand what's happening with you.
And then you feel like you're left with this feeling
and what sounds like to me like almost like shame. Oh,
it's massive shame, massive, massive, right, And you are wired
(06:43):
in such a way that when you experience that emotion,
you almost become like flooded by it. And so what
happens is that you experience that and then all of
a sudden, there's this internal critic inside of you who
then tells you you're not supposed to feel that way,
You're not supposed to respond that way. There's this whole
(07:05):
narrative that's very shaming, and to walk through life like
that is so dismissive. It's like a whole secondary pain
tacked on top of how you actually feel. And I'm
wondering what would it be like to give yourself some
grace and to say that, How do you do that?
(07:25):
I don't know how to do that right? And that's
what we're here to work on. Why don't you just
tell me the answer? I'm serious, like, like, what would
it be like? What would it be like if you
lived in a world where there was permission to have
(07:47):
those feelings? Then how do you think that would also
impact your feelings the output itself. I think that part
of our time together is trying to integrate this with
your diagnosis. A sense of a new identity and being
(08:11):
able to see yourself through that lens will give you
more grace to be yourself. And that's what I'm sort
of wishing for you, which is a very lovely thing
for anyone to want for you, the ability to be
unequivocally yourself. But rather than suit with that kindness, I
(08:32):
instead corrected Sandro when she mispronounced a word, because that's
the kind of jerk I am. And you're having this
narrative inside yourself that's shaming and casticizing yourself and so
when just as pastising yourself yeah or castigating yeah yeah,
(08:52):
somewhere in between, it was a combination of those two
words together. It's a portmanteau. I don't mean to correct you,
but I'm just so. But I appreciate it. I doubt that,
but ultimately Sandra's right. I do need to have grace
about my big feelings, because big feelings are an autistic gift.
(09:13):
One of the biggest misunderstandings about autistic people is that
we are robots devoid of emotion, and that is just
patently false. Most autistic people actually have a glut of emotion,
so much so that often the pipelines and pathways to
express that emotion get clogged up. Sometimes the right emotion
(09:35):
doesn't come out at the right time, and sometimes no
emotion comes out at all because it's just too big,
like a giant emotional hairball. In this final stage of reckoning,
I'm trying to be okay with all the big feelings
I put out into the world. I'm trying to give
myself permission to feel. But before I can truly be
(09:58):
at ease with my brain and embrace the deluxe emotions
it generates, I need to do one big thing. I
have to apologize. I have to take accountability for the
way my big feelings impacted someone else. And to do that,
I have to go visit my ex partner Becca. You
(10:22):
met Becca in the last episode. She offered to be
my phone of friend after I revealed my diagnosis to
my family. It will probably be hard or the reactions,
and I could feel that you can just call me.
Becca and I dated for six years and lived together
in Vermont for four and even though we split up
a decade ago, we've stuck around in each other's lives
(10:44):
because we're family and because she can't seem to get
rid of me. Becca is easily the kindest person I know.
When we were together, she was always doing little mitzvahs,
like driving our elderly not all their neighbor to pick
up cat food at the pet store. Becca is the
type of person who politely listens to a political Canvasser's
(11:07):
whole sidewalk Biel, whereas I rudely walked past without giving
them a second glance. No, I do not have a
minute for the environment, sir. Before Becca and I moved
in together, neither of us had lived with a partner,
so already our cohabitation was going to be an adventure. Also,
we were young in gay years, late twenties, early thirties,
(11:32):
so we were kind of primed for a little drama.
Or maybe it was just me. Becca's not naturally a fighter,
and I always have my fists half cocked figuratively. When
we shared a home, I would freak out about things
that would seem like no big deal to someone else,
and I felt like I had no ability to control
(11:54):
those freakouts. Exhibit A. One time I went out of
town and Becca rearranged some furniture. When I came back,
I was a total junk show. I just couldn't handle
the change. Another time, I remember a vigorous debate on
the merits of Becca's supernumerous coffee mug collection, which ended
(12:16):
with one of us and tears not me. For years,
I felt wretched about all that, the yelling and the
crying and the totally blown out of proportion reactions. But
it's only recently, in the wake of my autism diagnosis,
that I have fully been able to process my behavior
(12:36):
throughout our relationship. And what I've come to understand is
that if only I had the information then that I
have now. Our life together would have been fewer landmines
and more clearly understood needs. There would have been more
open lines of communication and less misunderstanding, and I definitely
(12:57):
wouldn't have lost my marbles over mugs Before I could
move on with my cool, new autistic life. I had
to talk to about about all of this. I had
to be accountable. If I didn't, what would I've learned
from all of this? So after the break, I hop
(13:19):
on a plane to see Becca in Atlanta, sort of
an explanation slash apology tour. Huh. I should have had
t shirts printed for the occasions when you are me,
(13:52):
the flying experience is less than enjoyable. Not because I'm
scared of flying, because I'm not, but because the sheer
crush of people flying to and fro means there are
a whole lot of things you can't control. To wit,
the guy sitting next to me in the terminal must
have put hand sanitizer on his hands fifty two times
(14:16):
in five minutes, just rubbing his hands over and over
and over and over and over and over and over again.
And it felt bad for him, but also I wanted
to punch him, See what I mean? May ever one Sadly,
I was not flying on air Autismia and the pilot
(14:39):
was not Captain Autismo, though he did sound an awful
lot like him. We'll trying to find him a smooth
ride for you, as as message with him, thanks for
joining us once again. We I'm a board. When I landed,
Becca was there to pick me up with her dog,
disco Into, who momentarily forgot how much she actually loved
(15:01):
and missed me. Hello, how did you give yourself fast?
That's waiting for you. I'm sorry about he rules. Becca
lives and works in one of my favorite cities, Atlanta.
My trip this time was brief, so we mostly just
had time to eat at exceptional breakfast spots I love grits,
(15:25):
walk her dog, and talk about why she still doesn't
own a real sofa at forty three years of age.
On my last morning there, I pulled out all my
recording equipment and we got into the real reason for
my trip. It made me anxious to be accountable. It's
hard to admit when you've been kind of sucky, but
(15:48):
Becca was a safe person to do that with. Okay,
are you comfortable there? Relatively comfortable? Okay? Oh my God,
your dogs looking if I move around a little bit
and shift, is that okay? Yeah? I mean unless you
like walk out of the room. No, no, but I
might just need to like move my butet onto a
(16:08):
different cheek or boy, where are we right now? Are
we starting? We started like ten minutes ago? Oh where
are we? Yeah, we're in my house in Atlanta? So
where are we? Specifically? Right now? We're in the main
sitting area. I'm on a futon and you're on a
(16:28):
bean bag chair. And how old are you? I don't
see how that's relevant. I mean just I'm just wondering
what type of people have futons bean bag chairs. Well,
I am planning to get it actual sofa, actual so
but I'm going to keep my bean bag chair for
(16:49):
the reading book what the reading nook? Yes? Okay, Well,
clearly I didn't fly all the way down to Atlanta
from DC to talk to Becca about her interior design.
We had some business to attend to, but first we
had to take a brief detour down memory Lane. We
(17:09):
talked about how we met, which was on a group
bike ride when we both lived in Vermont. Was supposed
to be a mountain bike ride, but we couldn't do
a mountain bike ride because it was rainy, so we
ended up on a road bike ride. Then we talked
about dating and why we were drawn to each other.
Why did you want to go out with me? Well,
(17:30):
you were art from my stunning good luck. I loved,
absolutely loved your sense of humor. I had just never
enjoyed being around someone maybe laugh so much. And we
talked about our decision to move in together, which was
the first for both of us. I guess I don't
remember the moment when we made the decision. I don't either,
(17:54):
because I feel like it wasn't so much significance. It
was like, oh, your lease was up. I didn't like
my place. It was very it felt very practical. It
was lovely to amble down the old lane of memories
with back up, but that wasn't what I was there
to do. We had to get into some hard stuff.
I definitely have a lot of recollections of like when
(18:19):
things were not so easy, and they're generally because of me.
But I wonder if you have like recollections and don't
really won't hurt my feelings about like things that were
like not easy or challenging or whatever. The things that
I remember being difficult were had to do with like
(18:44):
cleaning or maybe things that I did that would bring
up something really intense for you specifically, Like I don't
think you were a messy person. I just think like
maybe they were like bits of paper lying around or
what were they called? Yeah, what did I call? There
was just one word, your piles. Oh yeah, you had piles.
(19:06):
And then but sometimes there were like little shreds paper
I would I put put I would put all of
my notes. Yeah, so I hated on scraps of paper. Yeah.
So there were some scraps and things that um, I'm
I cleaned up behind you that didn't go over so well. Often,
(19:28):
like in retrospect, I probably should I know, I should
have handled that differently, handled what well? Just um, if
there was something that you were doing that I wanted
that bothered me to just talk to you about it, Okay,
just we were just getting going on our chat. So
Becca wasn't quite emboldened to tell the full story. Basically,
(19:52):
my organizational system at the time was little piles of
scrap paper. I don't know why, but that's just how
I kept my life organized. And for Becca that was
dysfunctional and created lots of clutter. So she would gather
up all the piles to one master pile, and predictably,
I would lose it, yelling, pouting, a whole panoply of
(20:16):
outsized emotional responses. Becca moving my piles was like Becca
snuffing out my humanity. I don't mean to be dramatic,
but that's how it felt at the time. And I
know Becca didn't want to say it, but a person
like that is not easy to live with. The piles
weren't the only cleaning issue we had. Well, I remember,
(20:39):
like I did all of the cooking, yeah, mostly, and
it was vegetarian cooking, and that was okay. So then
I really was hoping you would have cleaned the kitchen,
which you did sometimes what was but you you wanted
to be done right aft, right away, and so my
(21:03):
feeling was, well, whether it gets done tonight or tomorrow morning,
what does it matter. I thought you were going to
say when you said that you largely cooked vegetarian the
time that you made meat in the pods, when I
was like away and I had like a full blown meltdown. Okay,
basically I'm a strict vegetarian. Becca is not. One time
(21:26):
I came home from a trip and realized that while
I was away, she had been cooking meat in our
shared cookware, which in my mind was verboten. I can't
remember a specific time that you did that, though, oh
like when I cooked meat while you were gone, But
it was because it was the first time, and I
had a full on meltdown about it, Like I we
(21:49):
had a massive fight. It's such bad behavior and it's
so gross to recount now, like I'm embarrassed, But I
was so upset that there would be any kind of
animal product in a thing that would later be used
to make food I would eat. It was more like
the prince bowl was so upsetting and I couldn't move
(22:12):
away from that position. Looking back, your reaction was so
strong and emotional and overblown, you know, we both would say.
And I didn't understand how seemingly out of your control.
It felt about like foods in general, because you know,
(22:35):
we had other instances. There was this dish that I
often made. It was like a Puerto Rican bean and
pumpkin stew and capers were an ingredient in this dish,
and it was vegetarian. I loved it. I knew you
(22:58):
didn't like capers, but I was, like, I didn't think
that they'll just dissolve into the stew Editor's note. They
did not, so I'd put them in. I did not leave,
not expecting the backlash that I received. Who knew the
depth of emotion that could be triggered by the mere caper.
(23:24):
I mean, I'm laughing now, but it's like I think
I'm laughing through the embarrassment. I mean, I think that
you're being very generous in your description of it, because basically,
like again like full like meltdown mode. But but I
need to pop in and explain that my reaction was disgusting.
(23:44):
A caper caught my eye on my spoon and I
asked Becca what it was. She told me flat out,
it's a caper, and then I screamed at her for
purposely putting capers in even though she knew I didn't
like them. I grilled her about why she had done
such a thing, and I would not stop yelling until
I got all my stress out. Remember, I'm a fighter
(24:07):
when it comes to fight, flight or freeze. Yeah, and
I don't think I've ever seen your respond like that
before to anything related to food. But I wonder I
wish that I could go back and ask myself if,
like I had a moment where I was like, this
isn't personal, Like this isn't about me. There's something going
on with Lauren. This is this is real. This is
(24:30):
her feelings are real her. It's not like, yeah, she
just doesn't like the caper. But I think part of
my reason for wanting to talk to you that like
I am coming to understanding, was about my own behavior
and you know, things that sort of have set me
off in the reasons why and how that manifests itself.
(24:54):
And again, this is not like me trying to absolve
my behavior, but I want to explain to you kind
of where I think this fits, which is that it's
when the hypersensitivity kicks in or the stimulus is too much,
like the response is like this feeling of like everything
(25:18):
feels so out of control. It feels like there's like
full on like rage at the thing that created, yeah,
the stimulus or the overstimulus or whatever. There were other
instances that I wanted to apologize for, that time when
(25:38):
we almost broke up painting the bathroom a new color.
Many autistic people, myself included do not like change. Or
then there was the time when I made Becca cry
by yelling at her to walk faster because we were
going to be late to a concert. Some autistic people
struggle with executive functioning, which can create overwhelming anxiety around timing.
(26:04):
The time I threw her wallet out the window of
my car while we were driving, Yeah, I don't think
that has an autistic explanation. That just seems like I
was being an asshole. I think where the rub is
is like not understanding the origin of the emotion and
then not understanding how to manage the emotion after that.
(26:27):
And that is very hard because you were and continue
to be a person who I'd love and care about
a great deal and also somebody who was always good
in being thoughtful and taking care of me. And to
treat somebody like that is really repugnant. Do you need
(26:52):
anything from me in terms of like more of an
explanation or an apology or an atonement or anything about temper,
bad behavior or bad reactions that or anything that made
(27:14):
you feel particularly bad about yourself? Or I mean, no,
I don't need And you know, even I get that
you're without saying that you're sorry or apologizing you are.
I mean, I know that that's how you feel. I
don't need you to s I am sorry, and I
(27:34):
do apologize. I know I think you said it, but
I also feel it, and I think I would have
felt it even if you weren't didn't have this diagnosis.
And we're taking on this project and made in getting
all these realizations. I want to be really clear here,
I was not asking Becca for forgiveness. I wanted to
(27:57):
explain my behavior, not excuse it. Using this new lens
of neurodivergence, I needed to take accountability without teetering into
a shamed spiral or getting all of Haiti. The more
I am able to unpack my big feelings of the past,
the more I am able to manage future situations without
(28:17):
crying or shouting or losing my mind, and the more
compassion I am able to have for myself. We had
to wrap up our chat disco. The dog was losing
her patience and there wasn't much left to say. Oh no,
I think I just like look forward to learning more
(28:38):
about it now. I think now like since then, and
moving forward like I'm I'm definitely going to leave the
capers out of the stew It's just not like. It's like,
I'm not I'm not, and I'm not gonna like. I
left Atlanta feeling lighter than I arrived. I accomplished what
(29:02):
I set out to do, not just with Becca, but
with all of it. There just wasn't really anything left
to do on the autism front. I found a doctor
and got evaluated. I got my education on and read
all the books I told my friends and my family,
and I began seeing an autism competent therapist. Seemed to
(29:24):
me it was time to just live, to fully inhabit
my autistic self and all the jumbo emotions that come
with it. It was time to step out of the
box that Miss Patterson put me in all those many
years ago and step into a kinder, more expansive way
of thinking about myself and my feelings. But that doesn't
(29:47):
come naturally to me. I might need a little help
on that front. So after the break, the lead singer
of the Grammy nominated band Big Thief comes to my aid.
(30:09):
When I was in the middle of making this project,
almost a year after I got my diagnosis, a friend
of mine asked if I might be interested in house sitting.
She lives in the far west Texas town of Marfa,
known for its ultra cool art scene and mystery light phenomenon.
So of course I said, yes, your girl needed a rest,
(30:29):
and what better place for a very fair ginger to
do that than the largest desert in North America. One
evening during my Marfa's Day, I hopped in my rented
Ford escape to catch the sunset on a precipitous canyon
road near the Mexico border. The scenery was unlike anything
(30:51):
this devoted East Coaster had ever seen. The canyons and
the hills shimmered with luminous reds and golds, and the
rolling ranch land was just miles and miles of undulating green.
As the sunset changed the sky from a soothing blue
to an opalescent purple, I put on an album songs
(31:19):
by Adrian Lanker. It's the twenty twenty solo release from
the lead singer of the indie rock band Big Thief,
a sort of low fig breakup slash pandemic record, and
it just kind of fit my driving moved three songs in.
(31:50):
During a track called anything, I just lost it, Big
fat tears dropped from my eyes and I couldn't see
the ribbon of gravel road ahead of me. I was overcome.
I'm driving to see the sun that in a canyon.
A friend told me that it was worth going to see,
(32:12):
and so that's what I'm doing. And I felt like
I needed to pull over because I was driving in
this extremely beautiful landscape, like unlike anything I've ever seen
in my life, like and it just like struck me
(32:34):
because I feel so moved by the scenery and also
feels so sad about how I felt about myself for
so long. You know, I've just been holding on to
so much pain with regard to my diagnosis. You know,
(33:01):
I feel like, for forty three years, I've never gotten
any relief about how I feel different than other people,
capable of certain things that other people are capable of.
As I was driving and listening to that album, I
remember being struck by the fact that Adrian seemed to
be so in control of her feelings and had such
(33:22):
easy access to them. Her understanding of herself and her
emotions seemed effortless. Loving listening to this music, thinking like
there's just the beauty of it, and how she was
able to express what she wanted. And I could so
(33:44):
very frequently do that. I just feel very moved and
also very sad about all of those pain and I
just want to find a way to let it go
and to move on. And also I want to know
what the hell of ranch is, Like, I haven't seen
a cow once, and I've been driving for an hour
(34:04):
and they're no cows. I don't know. I just want
to feel better. That drive was profound, setting the music,
(34:24):
the fact that I saw a whole herd of pronghorn
antelope bounding across open ranch land. It was an unlocking
of sorts for me, a cracking open, and on the
drive back after the sunset, I kept thinking that Adrian
the singer could help me. Maybe if I talked to her,
(34:45):
I could learn better how to deal with the emotions
that draped over me like an oversized sweater, Like she
could help me honor the grande feelings and the vulnerability
that comes with them. It was a silly flight of fancy.
Should I set an hour? Yeah, yeah, that's great. Well,
maybe it wasn't that silly. Like that kind of motion
(35:09):
is so hard for me to find, or to access,
or to touch. It feels dangerous, also kind of wild
and scary. You know, I wanted to chat for our
show because it felt like there was a way in
which you figured it out. I think that sadness emotion,
(35:36):
you know, feeling things like deeply is not it's not
really nurtured, Like we're not really given the tools from
an early age. There's already so much stifling that happens.
And I just think that there's so much around feeling
your feelings and emotions that is just like oppressed. Like
(36:01):
it's no wonder that in this world it's scary to
emote and like feel the full rowdness of feeling like
you figured out how to access an appropriate amount of
emotion and vulnerability. So that's I think my wonder is
that I'm just so curious about how you get there,
(36:25):
you know, I guess just being able to be like,
you know what, I'm going to be there for myself
no matter what, and like the sadness is not bad,
the emotion is not bad, Like all that I am
is not bad. It can all be here, and like
honestly just a lot of like self soothing and trying
(36:48):
to like believe in good, believing in like love, believing
that love is a real force that it's a real
thing that I really am surrounded with it and made
out of it. To do that, Adrian said, she conjured
the best friend she could imagine for her little self.
But I just imagine that person just being like, come here,
(37:11):
like I love you so much, You're so special. I'm
with you. I'm not going anywhere, and you can feel
all you feel and you can be all you are
and it's powerful, like you're amazing, Like I love you, sweetheart.
I'm here listening to Adrian. I want to be this
(37:31):
type of friend to myself too, to give myself permission
to feel big and to love the parts of me
that seem extra. But after nearly a lifetime spent trying
to tamp all that down, the idea felt overwhelming, even dangerous,
you know, Like I'm not saying that that's something I've
mastered by any means. That's the kind of friend to
(37:54):
myself that I want to be, Like, I want to
be just so steadfast least sticking by my own spirit.
And so when all that emotion comes out, that's honestly
what got me through is just time and I'm again
coming to a point of like this can all be
here and it's okay, and like you can feel this all.
(38:17):
I can feel it all. It's not too much, it
just is, you know, and yeah, and I fall out, spails.
Just strum out some notes on your guitar with a
paintbrush from the hardware store. That's what Adrian does. I
can show you if you want, Yeah, yeah, please, I'd
love to see it. I've been thinking a lot about
(38:53):
my chat with Adrian as I write this show, and
I've come to the understanding that making this project, inhabiting
the mantle of the loudest girl in the world, is
my gift to myself. I am being the friend that
I need. I am, in Adrian's words, sticking by my
own spirit. But now me and autism in sixth grade,
(39:19):
Pippi Longstocking, we just need to go live a little.
We're going to bust out of that dumb cardboard partition,
and we're going to give our big emotions an even
bigger squeeze, because no one puts Pippy in a box.
As I write these very words, I am sitting at
(39:41):
a table on my mother's porch in a suburban cul
de sac just outside of Pittsburgh. Of course, this is
not how I envisioned this project drawing to a close.
I figured, for the final episode, I would take myself
on a writing retreat to some idyllic wooded haven in
New England or some fancying northern California spread overlooking the Pacific. There,
(40:04):
I would no doubt find the perfect ending for this story,
one that would wrap all the emotions and epiphanies into
a lovely little cado of meaning. This ending would be poetic,
maybe even romantic, an elegant disquisition on difference, acceptance, and compassion. Instead,
I'm dog sitting my mother's ridiculous party poodle who won't
(40:27):
stop barking in my face. In the tree next to
the patio, there's a squirrel aggressively grooming its nether regions.
Oh and I have COVID, which has temporarily left me
with the lung capacity of a nonagenarian with emphysema. A
most unceremonious end to a project all about discovery and revelation,
(40:50):
struggle and affirmation. But in a way it's fitting because
even though I learned so much about myself and my neurology,
and even though I'm working towards embracing who I am,
and even though I was able to get it all
out in a podcast, so maybe other people, maybe you
wouldn't feel so alone in your brain. The dogs still
(41:13):
need to be taken out, the COVID still needs to
be nursed, the male still needs to be brought in.
Real life doesn't stop for your big news or your
big feels. In the end, my autism diagnosis means everything
and nothing. It has manifestly changed my life, and yet
(41:33):
I am exactly the same, And maybe that's just as well.
You've been listening to the Loudest Girl in the World.
It's hosted, written, and executive produced by me Lauren Ober.
(41:54):
Our senior producer is Writer Alsop. Our associate producer is
David John. Sophie Crane is our showrunner and senior editor.
Jake Gorski is our mix engineer. Music imposed by my
autistic Kiwee pal, the Inimitable Lady Hawk. Our artwork was
created by the autistic illustrator Loretta Ipsum. The show is
(42:17):
fact checked by Andrea Lopez Cruzado, and our autism consultant
is Sarah Cappitt. Our executive producers are Mia Lobell and
Lee Tom Mullad. Much appreciation to Josh Lindgren at Cia
and Bianca Grimshaw at Granderson de Roche. Also a great
many thank yous to the ridiculously talented Kevin Zach for
(42:39):
all the voices, and to number one head shrinker Sandra
Wolf for putting up with me. And mega big love
to the numerous people who shared their autism stories and
expertise with me. Your insight and time is so appreciated.
An offering of extreme gratitude to Sharda Blechandr Uruela, Callie Cyrus,
(43:01):
Molly Harris, Lulu Miller, Megan Reid, Laura Starcheski, Rob Quinn,
Claire Thomas, Becca Van Dyke, Emily vesseland and my autism
fairy godmothers Donna Henderson and Sarah Wayland. I don't deserve
your keen ears and your kind hearts. To my best guy, Jacob,
(43:23):
thank you for making me all the better. And finally,
Anna Rosen, who's boundless understanding, occasional teasing and above all
love made this project possible. Ani javit Otak, The Loudest
Scar in the World is a production of Pushkin Industries.
If you love this show, consider subscribing to Pushkin plus
(43:45):
offering bonus content and ad free listening across our network
for just or ninety nine a month. What a deal.
Look for the Pushkin Plus channel on Apple Podcasts or
at pushkin dot fm. To find more Pushkin podcasts, listen
on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen
(44:05):
to your podcasts. Our executive team include Dudes Jacob Weisberg,
Malcolm Gladwell, Heather Fame, John Schnars, Carrie Brody, Carly Mgliori,
Christina Sullivan, Jason Gambrelle, Lieta Mullad, Mia Lobell, and Gretta Cone.
Our marketing team includes Eric Sandler, Maggie Taylor, Morgan Ratner,
(44:26):
Nicole Morano, Mary Beth Smith, Jordan McMillan, Isabelle and Our Vaz,
and Sean Carney. We have operations support from Nicole Upton Bosch,
Maya Kane Egg and Daniella Lacan. Thanks for listening, friend,
I'm Lauren Ober
Pushkin. Not too long ago, I had a situation out
in nature. It was during a hike at a wildlife
refuge with my dog Davy and my girlfriend Hannah. Davy
was off leash, bounding through the trees, following her dumb
dumb hound dog knows. All of a sudden, the dog
(00:36):
tore past me with something hanging from her mouth. If
you have a dog, you will be familiar with this move.
The dog knows she probably shouldn't have the thing that's
in her mouth, but she's so proud of her quarry
she can't help but show it off. As Davy was
running by me, she slowed down just enough so I
could see what was in her mouth. It was a squirrel. Now,
(01:02):
as long as I have had Davy, catching a live
animal has been the dream of her life. But because
row in, birds, butterflies, and bees are all way faster
than her, she's never fulfilled her great aspiration. When I
saw the lifeless animal flopping in the dog's mouth, I
shrieked and yelled at Davy to drop it, which she
(01:24):
did immediately because she is a very good girl. As
the squirrel fell from Davy's chops, I realized something terrible.
The squirrel was alive, but barely, and that is when
our hike took a very sad turn. You're listening to
(01:48):
the Loudest Girl in the world, who I believe I've
proven irrefutably and beyond all doubt is me Lauren Ober.
The Loudest Girl in the World is a show about
finding yourself broken in a pretty dark place and emerging
from that place a mostly glued back together person. And
(02:08):
in our final episode, I guess I need to find
a way to make that happen. I need to become
whole here, or almost whole anyway, if it hasn't been
made abundantly clear in the past eight episodes, I have
very big feelings. I wander through the world as if
(02:31):
my first layer of very pale skin is missing. All
of my nerves are just hanging out, exposed, waiting to
be set off by a spiky dog hair stuck in
my bra or the Harley Davidson exhaust rumble, or the
sight of a helpless, injured squirrel, which is what happened
on our hike. The second I saw the squirrel lying
(02:54):
on the trail, struggling to move its leg, obviously broken,
I lost it I collapsed in a flood of whales.
I had enough sense in the moment to grab the
dog's collar so she didn't do more damage to the
injured creature. But that was all the control I could muster.
I squatted down on the trail, paralyzed by sobs. It
(03:19):
felt like I was weeping for ages. I just couldn't stop.
The episode wasn't a total shock to Hannah. She had
once seen me break down in the middle of a
street in Savannah when I saw a sweaty sway back
draft horse pulling a cart full of equally sweaty tourists around.
She knows that animals in distress, or animals being mistreated,
(03:43):
or old animals or unwell animals tend to elicit an
outsized emotional response in me. But still, this was a lot.
After many minutes, I was able to compose myself to
walk away from this situation, but not before telling Hannah
(04:04):
that the squirrel needed to be put out of its misery.
It would suffer and ltimately meet a gruesome end if
we didn't do something, or, more accurately, if Hannah didn't
do something, Because it was only us in those woods.
To this day, some months later, I still don't know
(04:24):
if Hannah eased the squirrel over the Rainbow Bridge. I
just know that when we pass that same spot on
the trail later in our hike, the squirrel had been
released from its earthly body journey Mercy's Little Friend. The
thing about autistic meltdowns, these immense responses to emotional overload,
(04:49):
is that they are displays of primal, unadulterated feeling. They
are raw emotions, often stripped of words, meaning, and context.
They are purer and uncorrupted, though from the outside that's
not at all what they look like. To an observer.
My meltdown stay would most likely appear unhinged, maybe even deranged,
(05:14):
and I don't like that one bit. After squirrel strife
twenty twenty two happened, I talked to my new therapist
about it. Her name is Sandra, and a big part
of her practice is dedicated to autistic women and girls,
so she is not unfamiliar with the nature of the meltdown.
Our conversation was a real turning point for me in
(05:36):
terms of embracing my own feelings. So what is it
like to walk through the world feeling these really strong
feelings that can get ignited so easily. That's Sandra obviously,
Well who wants that? No one, right, I mean, because
(05:57):
because then you are disregulated, and that is not fun.
It doesn't just affect you, It affect the people who
you are close to. It probably prevents you from being
close to other people because it's like too much. Yeah,
(06:19):
And so here you are having all these feelings and
then on top of it, you feel like you push
away the people that you really care about, or that
there's a disconnect. They don't understand what's happening with you.
And then you feel like you're left with this feeling
and what sounds like to me like almost like shame. Oh,
it's massive shame, massive, massive, right, And you are wired
(06:43):
in such a way that when you experience that emotion,
you almost become like flooded by it. And so what
happens is that you experience that and then all of
a sudden, there's this internal critic inside of you who
then tells you you're not supposed to feel that way,
You're not supposed to respond that way. There's this whole
(07:05):
narrative that's very shaming, and to walk through life like
that is so dismissive. It's like a whole secondary pain
tacked on top of how you actually feel. And I'm
wondering what would it be like to give yourself some
grace and to say that, How do you do that?
(07:25):
I don't know how to do that right? And that's
what we're here to work on. Why don't you just
tell me the answer? I'm serious, like, like, what would
it be like? What would it be like if you
lived in a world where there was permission to have
(07:47):
those feelings? Then how do you think that would also
impact your feelings the output itself. I think that part
of our time together is trying to integrate this with
your diagnosis. A sense of a new identity and being
(08:11):
able to see yourself through that lens will give you
more grace to be yourself. And that's what I'm sort
of wishing for you, which is a very lovely thing
for anyone to want for you, the ability to be
unequivocally yourself. But rather than suit with that kindness, I
(08:32):
instead corrected Sandro when she mispronounced a word, because that's
the kind of jerk I am. And you're having this
narrative inside yourself that's shaming and casticizing yourself and so
when just as pastising yourself yeah or castigating yeah yeah,
(08:52):
somewhere in between, it was a combination of those two
words together. It's a portmanteau. I don't mean to correct you,
but I'm just so. But I appreciate it. I doubt that,
but ultimately Sandra's right. I do need to have grace
about my big feelings, because big feelings are an autistic gift.
(09:13):
One of the biggest misunderstandings about autistic people is that
we are robots devoid of emotion, and that is just
patently false. Most autistic people actually have a glut of emotion,
so much so that often the pipelines and pathways to
express that emotion get clogged up. Sometimes the right emotion
(09:35):
doesn't come out at the right time, and sometimes no
emotion comes out at all because it's just too big,
like a giant emotional hairball. In this final stage of reckoning,
I'm trying to be okay with all the big feelings
I put out into the world. I'm trying to give
myself permission to feel. But before I can truly be
(09:58):
at ease with my brain and embrace the deluxe emotions
it generates, I need to do one big thing. I
have to apologize. I have to take accountability for the
way my big feelings impacted someone else. And to do that,
I have to go visit my ex partner Becca. You
(10:22):
met Becca in the last episode. She offered to be
my phone of friend after I revealed my diagnosis to
my family. It will probably be hard or the reactions,
and I could feel that you can just call me.
Becca and I dated for six years and lived together
in Vermont for four and even though we split up
a decade ago, we've stuck around in each other's lives
(10:44):
because we're family and because she can't seem to get
rid of me. Becca is easily the kindest person I know.
When we were together, she was always doing little mitzvahs,
like driving our elderly not all their neighbor to pick
up cat food at the pet store. Becca is the
type of person who politely listens to a political Canvasser's
(11:07):
whole sidewalk Biel, whereas I rudely walked past without giving
them a second glance. No, I do not have a
minute for the environment, sir. Before Becca and I moved
in together, neither of us had lived with a partner,
so already our cohabitation was going to be an adventure. Also,
we were young in gay years, late twenties, early thirties,
(11:32):
so we were kind of primed for a little drama.
Or maybe it was just me. Becca's not naturally a fighter,
and I always have my fists half cocked figuratively. When
we shared a home, I would freak out about things
that would seem like no big deal to someone else,
and I felt like I had no ability to control
(11:54):
those freakouts. Exhibit A. One time I went out of
town and Becca rearranged some furniture. When I came back,
I was a total junk show. I just couldn't handle
the change. Another time, I remember a vigorous debate on
the merits of Becca's supernumerous coffee mug collection, which ended
(12:16):
with one of us and tears not me. For years,
I felt wretched about all that, the yelling and the
crying and the totally blown out of proportion reactions. But
it's only recently, in the wake of my autism diagnosis,
that I have fully been able to process my behavior
(12:36):
throughout our relationship. And what I've come to understand is
that if only I had the information then that I
have now. Our life together would have been fewer landmines
and more clearly understood needs. There would have been more
open lines of communication and less misunderstanding, and I definitely
(12:57):
wouldn't have lost my marbles over mugs Before I could
move on with my cool, new autistic life. I had
to talk to about about all of this. I had
to be accountable. If I didn't, what would I've learned
from all of this? So after the break, I hop
(13:19):
on a plane to see Becca in Atlanta, sort of
an explanation slash apology tour. Huh. I should have had
t shirts printed for the occasions when you are me,
(13:52):
the flying experience is less than enjoyable. Not because I'm
scared of flying, because I'm not, but because the sheer
crush of people flying to and fro means there are
a whole lot of things you can't control. To wit,
the guy sitting next to me in the terminal must
have put hand sanitizer on his hands fifty two times
(14:16):
in five minutes, just rubbing his hands over and over
and over and over and over and over and over again.
And it felt bad for him, but also I wanted
to punch him, See what I mean? May ever one Sadly,
I was not flying on air Autismia and the pilot
(14:39):
was not Captain Autismo, though he did sound an awful
lot like him. We'll trying to find him a smooth
ride for you, as as message with him, thanks for
joining us once again. We I'm a board. When I landed,
Becca was there to pick me up with her dog,
disco Into, who momentarily forgot how much she actually loved
(15:01):
and missed me. Hello, how did you give yourself fast?
That's waiting for you. I'm sorry about he rules. Becca
lives and works in one of my favorite cities, Atlanta.
My trip this time was brief, so we mostly just
had time to eat at exceptional breakfast spots I love grits,
(15:25):
walk her dog, and talk about why she still doesn't
own a real sofa at forty three years of age.
On my last morning there, I pulled out all my
recording equipment and we got into the real reason for
my trip. It made me anxious to be accountable. It's
hard to admit when you've been kind of sucky, but
(15:48):
Becca was a safe person to do that with. Okay,
are you comfortable there? Relatively comfortable? Okay? Oh my God,
your dogs looking if I move around a little bit
and shift, is that okay? Yeah? I mean unless you
like walk out of the room. No, no, but I
might just need to like move my butet onto a
(16:08):
different cheek or boy, where are we right now? Are
we starting? We started like ten minutes ago? Oh where
are we? Yeah, we're in my house in Atlanta? So
where are we? Specifically? Right now? We're in the main
sitting area. I'm on a futon and you're on a
(16:28):
bean bag chair. And how old are you? I don't
see how that's relevant. I mean just I'm just wondering
what type of people have futons bean bag chairs. Well,
I am planning to get it actual sofa, actual so
but I'm going to keep my bean bag chair for
(16:49):
the reading book what the reading nook? Yes? Okay, Well,
clearly I didn't fly all the way down to Atlanta
from DC to talk to Becca about her interior design.
We had some business to attend to, but first we
had to take a brief detour down memory Lane. We
(17:09):
talked about how we met, which was on a group
bike ride when we both lived in Vermont. Was supposed
to be a mountain bike ride, but we couldn't do
a mountain bike ride because it was rainy, so we
ended up on a road bike ride. Then we talked
about dating and why we were drawn to each other.
Why did you want to go out with me? Well,
(17:30):
you were art from my stunning good luck. I loved,
absolutely loved your sense of humor. I had just never
enjoyed being around someone maybe laugh so much. And we
talked about our decision to move in together, which was
the first for both of us. I guess I don't
remember the moment when we made the decision. I don't either,
(17:54):
because I feel like it wasn't so much significance. It
was like, oh, your lease was up. I didn't like
my place. It was very it felt very practical. It
was lovely to amble down the old lane of memories
with back up, but that wasn't what I was there
to do. We had to get into some hard stuff.
I definitely have a lot of recollections of like when
(18:19):
things were not so easy, and they're generally because of me.
But I wonder if you have like recollections and don't
really won't hurt my feelings about like things that were
like not easy or challenging or whatever. The things that
I remember being difficult were had to do with like
(18:44):
cleaning or maybe things that I did that would bring
up something really intense for you specifically, Like I don't
think you were a messy person. I just think like
maybe they were like bits of paper lying around or
what were they called? Yeah, what did I call? There
was just one word, your piles. Oh yeah, you had piles.
(19:06):
And then but sometimes there were like little shreds paper
I would I put put I would put all of
my notes. Yeah, so I hated on scraps of paper. Yeah.
So there were some scraps and things that um, I'm
I cleaned up behind you that didn't go over so well. Often,
(19:28):
like in retrospect, I probably should I know, I should
have handled that differently, handled what well? Just um, if
there was something that you were doing that I wanted
that bothered me to just talk to you about it, Okay,
just we were just getting going on our chat. So
Becca wasn't quite emboldened to tell the full story. Basically,
(19:52):
my organizational system at the time was little piles of
scrap paper. I don't know why, but that's just how
I kept my life organized. And for Becca that was
dysfunctional and created lots of clutter. So she would gather
up all the piles to one master pile, and predictably,
I would lose it, yelling, pouting, a whole panoply of
(20:16):
outsized emotional responses. Becca moving my piles was like Becca
snuffing out my humanity. I don't mean to be dramatic,
but that's how it felt at the time. And I
know Becca didn't want to say it, but a person
like that is not easy to live with. The piles
weren't the only cleaning issue we had. Well, I remember,
(20:39):
like I did all of the cooking, yeah, mostly, and
it was vegetarian cooking, and that was okay. So then
I really was hoping you would have cleaned the kitchen,
which you did sometimes what was but you you wanted
to be done right aft, right away, and so my
(21:03):
feeling was, well, whether it gets done tonight or tomorrow morning,
what does it matter. I thought you were going to
say when you said that you largely cooked vegetarian the
time that you made meat in the pods, when I
was like away and I had like a full blown meltdown. Okay,
basically I'm a strict vegetarian. Becca is not. One time
(21:26):
I came home from a trip and realized that while
I was away, she had been cooking meat in our
shared cookware, which in my mind was verboten. I can't
remember a specific time that you did that, though, oh
like when I cooked meat while you were gone, But
it was because it was the first time, and I
had a full on meltdown about it, Like I we
(21:49):
had a massive fight. It's such bad behavior and it's
so gross to recount now, like I'm embarrassed, But I
was so upset that there would be any kind of
animal product in a thing that would later be used
to make food I would eat. It was more like
the prince bowl was so upsetting and I couldn't move
(22:12):
away from that position. Looking back, your reaction was so
strong and emotional and overblown, you know, we both would say.
And I didn't understand how seemingly out of your control.
It felt about like foods in general, because you know,
(22:35):
we had other instances. There was this dish that I
often made. It was like a Puerto Rican bean and
pumpkin stew and capers were an ingredient in this dish,
and it was vegetarian. I loved it. I knew you
(22:58):
didn't like capers, but I was, like, I didn't think
that they'll just dissolve into the stew Editor's note. They
did not, so I'd put them in. I did not leave,
not expecting the backlash that I received. Who knew the
depth of emotion that could be triggered by the mere caper.
(23:24):
I mean, I'm laughing now, but it's like I think
I'm laughing through the embarrassment. I mean, I think that
you're being very generous in your description of it, because basically,
like again like full like meltdown mode. But but I
need to pop in and explain that my reaction was disgusting.
(23:44):
A caper caught my eye on my spoon and I
asked Becca what it was. She told me flat out,
it's a caper, and then I screamed at her for
purposely putting capers in even though she knew I didn't
like them. I grilled her about why she had done
such a thing, and I would not stop yelling until
I got all my stress out. Remember, I'm a fighter
(24:07):
when it comes to fight, flight or freeze. Yeah, and
I don't think I've ever seen your respond like that
before to anything related to food. But I wonder I
wish that I could go back and ask myself if,
like I had a moment where I was like, this
isn't personal, Like this isn't about me. There's something going
on with Lauren. This is this is real. This is
(24:30):
her feelings are real her. It's not like, yeah, she
just doesn't like the caper. But I think part of
my reason for wanting to talk to you that like
I am coming to understanding, was about my own behavior
and you know, things that sort of have set me
off in the reasons why and how that manifests itself.
(24:54):
And again, this is not like me trying to absolve
my behavior, but I want to explain to you kind
of where I think this fits, which is that it's
when the hypersensitivity kicks in or the stimulus is too much,
like the response is like this feeling of like everything
(25:18):
feels so out of control. It feels like there's like
full on like rage at the thing that created, yeah,
the stimulus or the overstimulus or whatever. There were other
instances that I wanted to apologize for, that time when
(25:38):
we almost broke up painting the bathroom a new color.
Many autistic people, myself included do not like change. Or
then there was the time when I made Becca cry
by yelling at her to walk faster because we were
going to be late to a concert. Some autistic people
struggle with executive functioning, which can create overwhelming anxiety around timing.
(26:04):
The time I threw her wallet out the window of
my car while we were driving, Yeah, I don't think
that has an autistic explanation. That just seems like I
was being an asshole. I think where the rub is
is like not understanding the origin of the emotion and
then not understanding how to manage the emotion after that.
(26:27):
And that is very hard because you were and continue
to be a person who I'd love and care about
a great deal and also somebody who was always good
in being thoughtful and taking care of me. And to
treat somebody like that is really repugnant. Do you need
(26:52):
anything from me in terms of like more of an
explanation or an apology or an atonement or anything about temper,
bad behavior or bad reactions that or anything that made
(27:14):
you feel particularly bad about yourself? Or I mean, no,
I don't need And you know, even I get that
you're without saying that you're sorry or apologizing you are.
I mean, I know that that's how you feel. I
don't need you to s I am sorry, and I
(27:34):
do apologize. I know I think you said it, but
I also feel it, and I think I would have
felt it even if you weren't didn't have this diagnosis.
And we're taking on this project and made in getting
all these realizations. I want to be really clear here,
I was not asking Becca for forgiveness. I wanted to
(27:57):
explain my behavior, not excuse it. Using this new lens
of neurodivergence, I needed to take accountability without teetering into
a shamed spiral or getting all of Haiti. The more
I am able to unpack my big feelings of the past,
the more I am able to manage future situations without
(28:17):
crying or shouting or losing my mind, and the more
compassion I am able to have for myself. We had
to wrap up our chat disco. The dog was losing
her patience and there wasn't much left to say. Oh no,
I think I just like look forward to learning more
(28:38):
about it now. I think now like since then, and
moving forward like I'm I'm definitely going to leave the
capers out of the stew It's just not like. It's like,
I'm not I'm not, and I'm not gonna like. I
left Atlanta feeling lighter than I arrived. I accomplished what
(29:02):
I set out to do, not just with Becca, but
with all of it. There just wasn't really anything left
to do on the autism front. I found a doctor
and got evaluated. I got my education on and read
all the books I told my friends and my family,
and I began seeing an autism competent therapist. Seemed to
(29:24):
me it was time to just live, to fully inhabit
my autistic self and all the jumbo emotions that come
with it. It was time to step out of the
box that Miss Patterson put me in all those many
years ago and step into a kinder, more expansive way
of thinking about myself and my feelings. But that doesn't
(29:47):
come naturally to me. I might need a little help
on that front. So after the break, the lead singer
of the Grammy nominated band Big Thief comes to my aid.
(30:09):
When I was in the middle of making this project,
almost a year after I got my diagnosis, a friend
of mine asked if I might be interested in house sitting.
She lives in the far west Texas town of Marfa,
known for its ultra cool art scene and mystery light phenomenon.
So of course I said, yes, your girl needed a rest,
(30:29):
and what better place for a very fair ginger to
do that than the largest desert in North America. One
evening during my Marfa's Day, I hopped in my rented
Ford escape to catch the sunset on a precipitous canyon
road near the Mexico border. The scenery was unlike anything
(30:51):
this devoted East Coaster had ever seen. The canyons and
the hills shimmered with luminous reds and golds, and the
rolling ranch land was just miles and miles of undulating green.
As the sunset changed the sky from a soothing blue
to an opalescent purple, I put on an album songs
(31:19):
by Adrian Lanker. It's the twenty twenty solo release from
the lead singer of the indie rock band Big Thief,
a sort of low fig breakup slash pandemic record, and
it just kind of fit my driving moved three songs in.
(31:50):
During a track called anything, I just lost it, Big
fat tears dropped from my eyes and I couldn't see
the ribbon of gravel road ahead of me. I was overcome.
I'm driving to see the sun that in a canyon.
A friend told me that it was worth going to see,
(32:12):
and so that's what I'm doing. And I felt like
I needed to pull over because I was driving in
this extremely beautiful landscape, like unlike anything I've ever seen
in my life, like and it just like struck me
(32:34):
because I feel so moved by the scenery and also
feels so sad about how I felt about myself for
so long. You know, I've just been holding on to
so much pain with regard to my diagnosis. You know,
(33:01):
I feel like, for forty three years, I've never gotten
any relief about how I feel different than other people,
capable of certain things that other people are capable of.
As I was driving and listening to that album, I
remember being struck by the fact that Adrian seemed to
be so in control of her feelings and had such
(33:22):
easy access to them. Her understanding of herself and her
emotions seemed effortless. Loving listening to this music, thinking like
there's just the beauty of it, and how she was
able to express what she wanted. And I could so
(33:44):
very frequently do that. I just feel very moved and
also very sad about all of those pain and I
just want to find a way to let it go
and to move on. And also I want to know
what the hell of ranch is, Like, I haven't seen
a cow once, and I've been driving for an hour
(34:04):
and they're no cows. I don't know. I just want
to feel better. That drive was profound, setting the music,
(34:24):
the fact that I saw a whole herd of pronghorn
antelope bounding across open ranch land. It was an unlocking
of sorts for me, a cracking open, and on the
drive back after the sunset, I kept thinking that Adrian
the singer could help me. Maybe if I talked to her,
(34:45):
I could learn better how to deal with the emotions
that draped over me like an oversized sweater, Like she
could help me honor the grande feelings and the vulnerability
that comes with them. It was a silly flight of fancy.
Should I set an hour? Yeah, yeah, that's great. Well,
maybe it wasn't that silly. Like that kind of motion
(35:09):
is so hard for me to find, or to access,
or to touch. It feels dangerous, also kind of wild
and scary. You know, I wanted to chat for our
show because it felt like there was a way in
which you figured it out. I think that sadness emotion,
(35:36):
you know, feeling things like deeply is not it's not
really nurtured, Like we're not really given the tools from
an early age. There's already so much stifling that happens.
And I just think that there's so much around feeling
your feelings and emotions that is just like oppressed. Like
(36:01):
it's no wonder that in this world it's scary to
emote and like feel the full rowdness of feeling like
you figured out how to access an appropriate amount of
emotion and vulnerability. So that's I think my wonder is
that I'm just so curious about how you get there,
(36:25):
you know, I guess just being able to be like,
you know what, I'm going to be there for myself
no matter what, and like the sadness is not bad,
the emotion is not bad, Like all that I am
is not bad. It can all be here, and like
honestly just a lot of like self soothing and trying
(36:48):
to like believe in good, believing in like love, believing
that love is a real force that it's a real
thing that I really am surrounded with it and made
out of it. To do that, Adrian said, she conjured
the best friend she could imagine for her little self.
But I just imagine that person just being like, come here,
(37:11):
like I love you so much, You're so special. I'm
with you. I'm not going anywhere, and you can feel
all you feel and you can be all you are
and it's powerful, like you're amazing, Like I love you, sweetheart.
I'm here listening to Adrian. I want to be this
(37:31):
type of friend to myself too, to give myself permission
to feel big and to love the parts of me
that seem extra. But after nearly a lifetime spent trying
to tamp all that down, the idea felt overwhelming, even dangerous,
you know, Like I'm not saying that that's something I've
mastered by any means. That's the kind of friend to
(37:54):
myself that I want to be, Like, I want to
be just so steadfast least sticking by my own spirit.
And so when all that emotion comes out, that's honestly
what got me through is just time and I'm again
coming to a point of like this can all be
here and it's okay, and like you can feel this all.
(38:17):
I can feel it all. It's not too much, it
just is, you know, and yeah, and I fall out, spails.
Just strum out some notes on your guitar with a
paintbrush from the hardware store. That's what Adrian does. I
can show you if you want, Yeah, yeah, please, I'd
love to see it. I've been thinking a lot about
(38:53):
my chat with Adrian as I write this show, and
I've come to the understanding that making this project, inhabiting
the mantle of the loudest girl in the world, is
my gift to myself. I am being the friend that
I need. I am, in Adrian's words, sticking by my
own spirit. But now me and autism in sixth grade,
(39:19):
Pippi Longstocking, we just need to go live a little.
We're going to bust out of that dumb cardboard partition,
and we're going to give our big emotions an even
bigger squeeze, because no one puts Pippy in a box.
As I write these very words, I am sitting at
(39:41):
a table on my mother's porch in a suburban cul
de sac just outside of Pittsburgh. Of course, this is
not how I envisioned this project drawing to a close.
I figured, for the final episode, I would take myself
on a writing retreat to some idyllic wooded haven in
New England or some fancying northern California spread overlooking the Pacific. There,
(40:04):
I would no doubt find the perfect ending for this story,
one that would wrap all the emotions and epiphanies into
a lovely little cado of meaning. This ending would be poetic,
maybe even romantic, an elegant disquisition on difference, acceptance, and compassion. Instead,
I'm dog sitting my mother's ridiculous party poodle who won't
(40:27):
stop barking in my face. In the tree next to
the patio, there's a squirrel aggressively grooming its nether regions.
Oh and I have COVID, which has temporarily left me
with the lung capacity of a nonagenarian with emphysema. A
most unceremonious end to a project all about discovery and revelation,
(40:50):
struggle and affirmation. But in a way it's fitting because
even though I learned so much about myself and my neurology,
and even though I'm working towards embracing who I am,
and even though I was able to get it all
out in a podcast, so maybe other people, maybe you
wouldn't feel so alone in your brain. The dogs still
(41:13):
need to be taken out, the COVID still needs to
be nursed, the male still needs to be brought in.
Real life doesn't stop for your big news or your
big feels. In the end, my autism diagnosis means everything
and nothing. It has manifestly changed my life, and yet
(41:33):
I am exactly the same, And maybe that's just as well.
You've been listening to the Loudest Girl in the World.
It's hosted, written, and executive produced by me Lauren Ober.
(41:54):
Our senior producer is Writer Alsop. Our associate producer is
David John. Sophie Crane is our showrunner and senior editor.
Jake Gorski is our mix engineer. Music imposed by my
autistic Kiwee pal, the Inimitable Lady Hawk. Our artwork was
created by the autistic illustrator Loretta Ipsum. The show is
(42:17):
fact checked by Andrea Lopez Cruzado, and our autism consultant
is Sarah Cappitt. Our executive producers are Mia Lobell and
Lee Tom Mullad. Much appreciation to Josh Lindgren at Cia
and Bianca Grimshaw at Granderson de Roche. Also a great
many thank yous to the ridiculously talented Kevin Zach for
(42:39):
all the voices, and to number one head shrinker Sandra
Wolf for putting up with me. And mega big love
to the numerous people who shared their autism stories and
expertise with me. Your insight and time is so appreciated.
An offering of extreme gratitude to Sharda Blechandr Uruela, Callie Cyrus,
(43:01):
Molly Harris, Lulu Miller, Megan Reid, Laura Starcheski, Rob Quinn,
Claire Thomas, Becca Van Dyke, Emily vesseland and my autism
fairy godmothers Donna Henderson and Sarah Wayland. I don't deserve
your keen ears and your kind hearts. To my best guy, Jacob,
(43:23):
thank you for making me all the better. And finally,
Anna Rosen, who's boundless understanding, occasional teasing and above all
love made this project possible. Ani javit Otak, The Loudest
Scar in the World is a production of Pushkin Industries.
If you love this show, consider subscribing to Pushkin plus
(43:45):
offering bonus content and ad free listening across our network
for just or ninety nine a month. What a deal.
Look for the Pushkin Plus channel on Apple Podcasts or
at pushkin dot fm. To find more Pushkin podcasts, listen
on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen
(44:05):
to your podcasts. Our executive team include Dudes Jacob Weisberg,
Malcolm Gladwell, Heather Fame, John Schnars, Carrie Brody, Carly Mgliori,
Christina Sullivan, Jason Gambrelle, Lieta Mullad, Mia Lobell, and Gretta Cone.
Our marketing team includes Eric Sandler, Maggie Taylor, Morgan Ratner,
(44:26):
Nicole Morano, Mary Beth Smith, Jordan McMillan, Isabelle and Our Vaz,
and Sean Carney. We have operations support from Nicole Upton Bosch,
Maya Kane Egg and Daniella Lacan. Thanks for listening, friend,
I'm Lauren Ober
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