Fists pound and expletives echo as our friendly family Rummy game becomes an all-out war. My friend, Alayna, shakes her head and smiles at me, “You and your family are crazy, Lara!” I roll my eyes as if to say, “I know right.” My grandmother quickly quips, “She gets it from the Italian side of her dad’s family.” Our family laughs at the inside joke. Actually, it’s not funny at all. I look around our family table and name the labels: ADHD, GAD, MDD, Bipolar, others - all of us, neurodivergent. Yes, it has its genealogical roots from my dad’s side of my family lineage, though the “Italian” part has nothing to do with it. A few years ago, I formally added my name to that list of family “lunatics” (another word I disdain). I too am neurodivergent. Classmates tell me, “Chill out! You are too stressed. Always worrying.” I wish I could "chill out." My teachers attempt to be sympathetic saying, “High school can be a difficult time. It's normal.” But, it's not. My friends assure me, “It will get better.” I’m not always certain it will, but cling to that hope. After many episodes of uncontrolled worrying, and panic attacks, my family knew it was more than just typical teenage angst and stress. It was time for real answers. Being diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and Panic Disorder changed my life. Though I finally had a name for what I experienced, it did not mean I understood it. I had lived my entire life thinking I was the only person who felt this way. Now, I know I'm not alone. It felt like someone finally got me. Having this diagnosis provided me with an explanation of what I was feeling and why. I began to explore my thoughts and feelings in different ways, through a different lens. I grew to learn my “tells” when I was progressing toward a full-out panic attack. This knowledge provides me with enough time to take action to prevent it. I have also learned to harness this feeling as an indicator that something isn’t right about the situation. Being in tune with my body’s alarm system provides a heightened awareness of my surroundings, my actions, others' actions, and responses to the situation. My anxiety, though mocked and discounted often by peers, is a personal private detective agency, exploring and ruminating every potential scenario and outcome of a situation. Though it may focus on negative outcomes, this information has been invaluable for decision-making. It provides me with the ability to weigh those potential negatives against the positives. It has been a difficult journey of self-realization and understanding of my neurodivergence. I learned that I could live in harmony with it and use it to my advantage. But many who are afflicted with the same disabilities, haven’t been as successful. They continue to struggle alone like I once did. This is why I advocate for neurodiversity insight and understanding. I share my personal struggles and experiences, providing examples of how incorrect assumptions and slang can harm someone's perception of their battle. Though we are a society of labels, neurodivergence doesn’t have to define you/me/them/us. We are all more than one attribute. We are intersectional beings. Our parts make the whole, not the other way around. I am proudly neurodivergent. I fiercely advocate for those called “crazy,” whether they are Italian or not. I will continue this for my own future, my family, and others with neurodivergence who may not be strong enough yet to advocate for themselves.

Fists pound and expletives echo as our friendly family Rummy game becomes an all-out war. My friend, Alayna, shakes her head and smiles at me, “You and your family are crazy, Lara!” I roll my eyes as if to say, “I know right.” My grandmother is quick to quip, “She gets it from the Italian side of her mom’s family.” Our family laughs at the inside joke. Actually, it’s not funny at all. I look around our family table and name the labels: ADHD, GAD, MDD, Bipolar, others - all of us, neurodivergent. Yes, it has its genealogical roots from my mom’s Italian lineage, though the “Italian” part has nothing to do with it. A few years ago, I formally added my name to that list of family “lunatics” (another word I disdain). I too am neurodivergent. Classmates tell me, “Chill out! You are too stressed. Always worrying.” I wish I could "chill out." My teachers attempt to be sympathetic saying, “High school can be a difficult time. It's normal.” But, it's not. My friends assure me, “It will get better.” I’m not always certain it will, but cling to that hope. After many episodes of uncontrolled worrying, and panic attacks, my family knew it was more than just typical teenage angst and stress. It was time for real answers. Being diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and Panic Disorder changed my life. Though I finally had a name for what I experienced, it did not mean I understood it. I had lived my entire life thinking I was the only person who felt this way. Now, I know I'm not alone. It felt like someone finally got me. Having this diagnosis provided me with an explanation of what I was feeling and why. I began to explore my thoughts and feelings in different ways, through a different lens. I grew to learn my “tells” when I was progressing toward a full-out panic attack. This knowledge provides me with enough time to take action to prevent it. I have also learned to harness this feeling as an indicator that something isn’t right about the situation. Being in tune with my body’s alarm system provides a heightened awareness of my surroundings, my actions, others' actions, and responses to the situation. My anxiety, though mocked and discounted often by peers, is a personal private detective agency, exploring and ruminating every potential scenario and outcome of a situation. Though it may focus on negative outcomes, this information has been an invaluable asset for decision-making. It provides me with the ability to weigh those potential negatives against the positives. It has been a difficult journey of self-realization and understanding of my neurodivergence. I learned that I could live in harmony with it and use it to my advantage. But many who are afflicted with the same disabilities, haven’t been as successful. They continue to struggle alone like I once did. This is why I advocate for neurodiversity insight and understanding. I share my personal struggles and experiences, providing examples of how incorrect assumptions and slang can harm someone's perception of their struggle. Though we are a society of labels, neurodivergence doesn’t have to define you/me/them/us. We are all more than one attribute. We are intersectional beings. Our parts make the whole, not the other way around. I am proudly neurodivergent. I fiercely advocate for those called “crazy,” whether they are Italian or not. I will continue this for my own future, my family and for others with neurodivergence who may not be strong enough yet to advocate for themselves.

Fists pound and expletives echo as our friendly family Shang-High Rummy game becomes an all-out war. My friend, Alayna, shakes her head and smiles at me, “You and your family are crazy, Lara!” I roll my eyes as if to say, “I know right.” My grandmother is quick to quip, “She gets it from the Italian side of her mom's family.” Our family laughs at the inside joke. Actually, it’s not funny at all. I look around our family table and name the labels: ADHD, GAD, MDD, Bipolar, others - all of us, neurodivergent. Yes, it has its genealogical roots from my mom’s Italian lineage, though the “Italian” part has nothing to do with it. A few years ago, I formally added my name to that list of family “lunatics” (another word I disdain). I too am neurodivergent. Classmates tell me, “Chill out! You are too stressed. Always worrying.” I wish I could "chill out." My teachers attempt to be sympathetic saying, “High school can be a difficult time. It's normal.” But, it's not. My friends assure me, “It will get better.” I’m not always certain it will, but cling to that hope. After many episodes of uncontrolled worrying, and panic attacks, my family knew it was more than just typical teenage angst and stress. My dad works in the disability field and called it neurodivergence. It was time for real answers. Being diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and Panic Disorder changed my life. Though I finally had a name for what I experienced, it did not mean I understood it. I had lived my entire life thinking I was the only person who felt this way. It felt like someone finally got me. Having this diagnosis provided an explanation of what I was feeling and why. I began to explore my thoughts and feelings in different ways, through a different lens. I grew to learn my “tells” when I was progressing toward a full-out panic attack. This knowledge provides me with enough time to take action to prevent it. I have also learned to harness this feeling as an indicator that something isn’t right about the situation. Being in tune with my body’s alarm system provides a heightened awareness of my surroundings, my actions, others' actions, and responses to the situation. My anxiety, though mocked and discounted often by peers, is a personal private detective agency, exploring and ruminating every potential scenario and outcome of a situation. Though it may focus on negative outcomes, this information has been an invaluable asset for decision-making. It provides me with the ability to weigh those potential negatives against the positives. It has been a difficult journey of self-realization and understanding of my neurodivergence. I learned that I could live in harmony with it and use it to my advantage. But many who are afflicted with these same disabilities, haven’t been as successful. They continue to struggle alone like I once did. This is why I advocate for neurodiversity insight and understanding. I share my personal struggles and experiences, providing examples of how incorrect assumptions and slang can harm someone's perception of their struggle. Though we are a society of labels, neurodivergence doesn’t have to define you/me/them/us. We are all more than one attribute. We are intersectional beings. Our parts make the whole, not the other way around. I am proudly neurodivergent. I fiercely advocate for those called “crazy,” whether they are Italian or not. I will continue this for my own future, my family and for others with neurodivergence who may not be strong enough yet to advocate for themselves.

Diversity. This is a word used to label our differences. I'm this or that. I check a box. I'm a woman. I'm white. I'm neurodivergent. I'm bisexual. Yay! We celebrate our differences, and we are put into our diverse categories and labeled as diverse. But I'm so much more than that. So are you. So is everyone. Diversity is a label; the intersectionality of that diversity is what makes me who I am. I am a woman, but not just a woman. I am neurodivergent, but not just neurodivergent. I identify as bisexual, but I am more than my sexual preferences. The entirety of who I am is what makes me who I am. I began my high school career at a private, Catholic high school. I can appreciate the structure and commitment to their morality. This experience drove my need for academic success. This experience also provided me with clarity about who I am. I am not Catholic. This posed issues for my attending events that my friends participated in at the school. My scientific brain doesn't allow my beliefs to align with the dogma of Catholicism. At this school, I was unwelcome to participate in some events. I'm not saying I wanted to participate, but I was separated and called out for not being eligible for participation. The school and administration were very clear about their stance on sexual preference, abortion rights, and other differences of thought. Those were unwelcomed as well. By the end of my sophomore year, it had become clear the intersectionality of who I am could not continue at this school. So, I made a change. My community school was significantly more accepting of who I am. Though there are exceptions. There will always be exceptions. A couple of teachers. Some students. They hold strong beliefs that do not align with mine. But this has been a better place for me to be me. This is a requirement for my collegiate search as well. My passion is science, biology, and neuroscience. I am fascinated by the 'why' of things. The reasoning. The impact of its result. I have always been an explorer of information and truth. I am excited about the opportunity to continue this exploration further throughout my college experience. Hopefully culminating in a career where I can collaborate with others to provide future generations with the insights we have uncovered. The truths I had a hand in determining. Along that journey, I will continue to advocate for more understanding of the intersectionality within diversity. I am more than my differences. We all are. It is the convergence of those differences and varying perspectives that will provide increased value to whichever company and its workplace I ultimately work in. I am who I am. Unapologetically me.

Diversity. This is a word used to label our differences. I'm this or that. I check a box. I'm a woman. I'm white. I'm neurodivergent. I'm bisexual. Yay! We celebrate our differences and we are put into our diverse categories. Labeled as diverse. But, I'm so much more than that. So are you. So is everyone. Diversity is a label; the intersectionality of that diversity is what makes me who I am. I am a woman, but not just a woman. I am neurodivergent, but not just neurodivergent. I identify as bisexual, but I am more than my sexual preferences. The entirety of who I am is what makes me who I am. I began my high school career at a private, Catholic high school. I can appreciate the structure and commitment to their morality. This experience drove my need for academic success. This experience also provided me with clarity about who I am. I am not Catholic. This posed issues for my participation in events that my friends participated in at the school. My scientific brain doesn't allow my beliefs to align with the dogma of Catholicism. At this school, I was unwelcome to participate in some events as a result. I'm not saying I wanted to participate, but I was separated and called out for not being eligible for participation. The school and administration were very clear about their stance on sexual preference, abortion rights, and other differences of thought. Those were unwelcome as well. By the end of my sophomore year, it had become clear the intersectionality of who I am could not continue at this school. So, I made a change. My community school was significantly more accepting of who I am. Though there are exceptions. There will always be exceptions. A couple of teachers. Some students. They hold strong to beliefs that do not align with mine. But, as a whole, this has been a better place for me to be me. This is a requirement for my collegiate search as well. My passion is science, biology, and neuroscience. I am fascinated by the 'why' of things. The reasoning. The impact of its result. I have always been an explorer of information and truth. I am excited about the opportunity to continue this exploration further throughout my college experience. Hopefully culminating in a career where I can collaborate with others to provide future generations with the insights we have uncovered. The truths I had a hand in determining. Along that journey, I will continue to advocate for more understanding of diversity versus intersectionality. I am more than my differences. We all are. It is the convergence of those differences and varying perspectives that will provide increased value to whichever company and its workplace I ultimately work in. I am who I am. Unapologetically me.