Because you shouldn't have to apologize for being you.
It started with my daughter. A teacher raised the possibility that she might be on the autism spectrum, and I started reading everything I could find to understand what that might mean for her.
The more I learned — especially about high-functioning autistic adults who'd spent their whole lives masking — the more it sounded like me. At 51, I got assessed. The diagnosis was confirmed.
I no longer see my difference as something to fix.