Creativity, Curiosity, and NVLD: A Conversation with Mike Media

When I sat down with Mike Media, one of the social ambassadors for the NBLB Project, I knew we were in for a deep, winding conversation. Mike is an artist, illustrator, animator, and—by his admission—a jack of all trades and master of none. He lives in Florida now, but has called many states home, including Colorado, Arizona, and Montana. His creative career, like his life, has been shaped by both his passions and his experiences living with NVLD (Nonverbal Learning Disorder).

Introductions and Shared Journeys

I introduced myself to Mike as I often do to my audience—Jennifer, podcaster, creative, and fellow Jill of all trades. Like Mike, my workday never looks the same. I split my time between helping my parents’ nonprofit, managing their tech and social media, doing administrative work, and—thanks to COVID—sometimes acting as the “building hygienist.”

Mike smiled when I said that, appreciating the variety in my work. He, too, thrives on not doing the same thing every day.

When I asked what led him to filmmaking and animation, his answer was a journey in itself.

“As a kid,” Mike told me, “I had obsessions. I’d get lost in world-building and escapism. My dad knew I was quirky—though at the time we didn’t know why. He didn’t think I’d excel in much outside of something creative. When I told him I wanted to go to college, he flat-out said I’d fail. But I went anyway. And I succeeded—though it took a lot of work.”

Mike’s path led him to film school, where his imagination had space to grow. Today, he often creates animated music videos for clients, letting the music guide his ideas. “It’s free-form,” he explained. “Not many jobs give you that kind of creative freedom.”

I related immediately. My podcast is my own creative outlet—something I can nurture, watch grow, and see connect with others. We both know the satisfaction of creating something that takes on a life of its own.

Diagnosis and Self-Discovery

Mike’s NVLD diagnosis came later in life, after years of feeling socially out of step. He recalled awkward moments from childhood, like the time he joined a conversation about relatives moving by sharing that his grandfather had fled Nazi Germany—only to be met with stunned silence. “That was my childhood,” he said. “I couldn’t tell if I was weird because I’d moved a lot… or if it was just me.”

It was only after a girlfriend dismissed his self-diagnosis that Mike decided to pursue formal testing. College opened that door, offering support for students with disabilities. His evaluator explained he was right on the line between Asperger’s and NVLD, but ultimately diagnosed him with the latter.

The news was both validating and unsettling. “I felt good because it wasn’t all my fault,” he said. “But bad because I became more self-conscious.”

I knew exactly what he meant. My diagnosis at UC Berkeley had been a similar mix of relief and self-awareness. Growing up homeschooled, I’d constantly compared myself to my neurotypical brother. I needed tutors for most subjects and struggled to understand why learning came more easily to others. Getting into Berkeley had been a shock, but once there, I struggled more than ever—especially in math-heavy or essay-heavy classes.

Creativity as Connection

Mike sees filmmaking as his way of telling a story he’s been trying to articulate since childhood. “Everything I make is part of one big, interconnected story about my struggles,” he explained. “I hope other people can relate.”

I understood that instinct to weave personal experience into creative work. My podcast serves the same purpose—offering connection through storytelling, even when my mind wants to wander down endless tangents.

We talked about masking, that constant balance between showing your authentic, quirky self and adapting to neurotypical expectations. Mike shared how, even when he thought he was masking well, comments from colleagues reminded him that his differences were still visible.

Our conversation wandered into experiences of being unintentionally mocked or misunderstood—a theme familiar to many with NVLD. For Mike, the realization sometimes came years later. For me, there were moments—like dancing at a Girl Scouts outing—where I didn’t even realize I was the punchline.

Processing, Obsessing, and Adapting

We touched on the slower processing speed common in NVLD, the way it can take longer to absorb and respond to information. We also admitted to overthinking—replaying conversations in our heads, rewriting texts, obsessing over whether we’d said something the “right” way.

For Mike, scripting—whether for film or stage—comes more naturally than casual conversation. “It’s easier for me to perform than to mingle at a party,” he said. “On stage, I know the structure. In real life, it’s chaos.”

I could relate. Interviews and episodes give me a framework, but in unstructured situations, the social puzzle pieces don’t always fit.

Looking Ahead

As our conversation wound down, Mike had to leave, but we agreed to continue with a Part Two. We had covered so much—creativity, diagnosis, masking, processing—but both of us felt there was more to explore.

In the meantime, I left our talk thinking about the ways NVLD shapes creativity, the parallel paths Mike and I had walked, and how sharing those stories is part of what makes them meaningful.

Do you want me to also create a Part Two outline so that when you do the second interview with Mike, it’ll flow naturally from this chapter? That way, the two will read like a continuous, intentional narrative.