Life Updates, and Olivia’s Journey

It was a Friday on the West Coast—at least where I was sitting. I had a few updates before diving into today’s interview.

First, a long-overdue thank-you: earlier this year, I had my podcast logos redesigned by the talented Max Klein. He not only helped me create the fresh look for Learning, Living with an Invisible Learning Challenge and The Sleepy Butterfly Podcast, but he made them look polished and professional in a way I couldn’t have imagined on my own. I plan to interview him in the future so he can share his creative process. And, because I may have lost my mind a little, I’ve commissioned him to design logos for three more podcasts I’m launching. Yes—soon I’ll be running five shows.

On top of that, I’m turning this very podcast about NVLD into a book. Between that, the new shows, and everything else on my plate, I’ve had to move my neurodivergence support group to every other month, at least for now. I hope everyone understands—it’s just a busy season.

With those updates out of the way, it was time to share the second half of my interview with Olivia, one of the NVLD Project’s Social Ambassadors. We’d posted the first part a couple of weeks ago, and I’d promised the rest sooner… but life happened. Olivia lives on the East Coast and has NVLD, low muscle tone, and other learning challenges. In this part of our conversation, she opened up about her early diagnosis, family dynamics, navigating school life, and the emotional journey toward accepting NVLD.

Family Conversations and Realizations

Olivia began with a story about a family dinner—her parents, her brother, and herself. Her sister, who lives in another town, wasn’t there. The topic of her niece, who has autism, came up, and Olivia commented that she could relate to some experiences because of NVLD.

Her brother, surprised, pushed back. “Don’t say that. NVLD isn’t like autism—it’s not on a spectrum.”

Her parents and Olivia quickly corrected him: NVLD is often described as existing on a mild-to-severe continuum. This was a moment that reminded her how much misinformation still exists, even among those close to her.

The Early Signs

Olivia’s journey toward diagnosis began before she could remember—literally. At nine months old, she couldn’t sit up on her own without toppling over. At a routine checkup, her doctor referred her to Pathways, a pediatric clinic, where she was diagnosed with low muscle tone. Physical therapy helped her walk and sit independently.

As she grew, her parents noticed her rapid speech and occasional unclear articulation. A speech therapist diagnosed an articulation disorder. Later, during a Girl Scout trip, another mother recognized similarities between Olivia’s behavior and her own son’s, who had NVLD. That conversation led to testing, and finally, the diagnosis.

Shared Challenges

When she told me this, I related immediately. I also had speech therapy as a child—my challenges were with blends like th and sh, and even today, certain words still trip me up.

Olivia and I both knew what it was like to work around these quirks, especially when talking to people who had no idea we were neurodivergent. Sometimes, the misunderstanding wasn’t about speech—it was about tone, sarcasm, or social cues.

Sarcasm, Social Cues, and Misunderstandings

For Olivia, sarcasm could be baffling. As a teenager, she often missed it entirely or took it literally, leading to awkward moments. Over time, she learned that each person had a unique “tone of sarcasm” that she could recognize with enough exposure.

We talked about how this could make relationships tricky. Olivia recalled a conversation with her cousin, who had been teasing her sarcastically. Once she explained her difficulty detecting sarcasm, he adjusted his approach.

Acceptance: A Gift and a Curse

When I asked how she felt about having NVLD, Olivia called it “a gift and a curse.” The gift: exceptional long-term memory, creative problem-solving, and deep tolerance for others. The curse: the social and practical challenges that could make daily life exhausting.

She also spoke about keeping her diagnosis a secret in high school. Only after building trust with certain friends—sometimes by deliberately “testing” whether they could keep smaller confidences—did she share her NVLD openly.

The High School Years

Olivia’s high school experience was full of both learning curves and small victories. She recalled an early moment of denial, when instead of admitting she couldn’t give verbal directions to a classmate, she offered to walk him to his room… and then promptly got lost trying to find her class afterward.

She navigated shifting friendships, learning which groups truly accepted her and which drained her energy. Her speech therapist played a crucial role, helping her decode situations that confused her—like why someone might “get back at her” for a comment she’d meant innocently.

The Turning Point

The real turning point came during a spiritual retreat called Kairos. There, Olivia finally shared her diagnosis with a trusted friend, Kelly. She was terrified—unsure whether Kelly would laugh, judge, or accept her. But Kelly simply hugged her. That moment lifted a huge weight from Olivia’s shoulders.

From then on, she told more friends, starting with those she’d known the longest. Most reacted with compassion and understanding.

Olivia’s story is a reminder that acceptance—both of oneself and from others—is a process. It’s a mix of small steps, awkward missteps, and moments of profound connection. And it’s in those moments, whether during a quiet walk to class or a heart-to-heart on retreat, that the path toward self-acceptance becomes a little clearer.