Breaking Out of My Shell

(Slowly… Like a Turtle)

by Micaiah, former professional hermit, current social experiment in progress

For a long time, social interaction felt like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded, underwater. While someone asked me how my day was, I knew there had to be a pattern to the whole ask questions and respond in real-time kind of thing. Other people seemed to know the pattern but didn't tell me their secrets to interacting, so I developed my own, I guess. They would walk into a room, say words, laugh at the correct times, and somehow leave with new friends. Meanwhile, I was in the corner doing advanced-level overthinking. Well, it's advanced to me, I guess, but it works.

Being 23 years old and on the autism spectrum (which means high functioning, high thinking, occasionally high overprocessing) means there is always a lot happening inside my head. Ideas. Observations. Jokes that are actually funny but require a short explanation and maybe a PowerPoint. Even though PowerPoint is cool, I don't like to use it much. The problem wasn’t that I had nothing to say; it was getting it out smoothly.

My mom calls me brilliant. For a long time, I thought she was just being a mom. Now I’m starting to think she might be onto something. So I’ve decided I should probably start acting like someone who believes that. Yep, you guessed it right. She gives me a task to watch at least 2 motivational videos in the morning while I work out, so I guess she's trying to help me remember that I am kind of great. They say the same thing she says, but I would be honest if I said I like their way a little better.

This post is about how I’m slowly breaking out of my shell and finding people who are just as different and brilliant as I am, in case you were wondering what I'm talking about. I can be hard to follow some days, I think, so there it is for you to figure me out if you would like to. I am figuring myself out more each day, and I think it's good that we, as breathing people, every day take time to try to learn something new and to learn something about ourselves. Trust me, you never know everything about yourself. Yesterday I learned that red, black, and white have been my favorite colors since I was 6 years old, and I don't plan on it changing any time soon.

For years, I built a shell around myself. Honestly, I call it my comfort fortress. Not a cool superhero shell. More like a mental one made of routines, caution, and the belief that socializing was a high-risk activity.

Social situations felt like a minefield. One awkward pause and my brain would yell, “RETREAT.” One joke that didn’t land and I’d replay it for the next three to five business days.

So I stayed inside my shell because it was safe, because inside my shell, I didn’t have to guess what someone meant or I didn’t have to respond quickly. I didn’t have to decode facial expressions like I was in a live-action puzzle game.

But here’s the thing, I accidentally learned that safe doesn’t always mean happy. But I guess that you never really learn things on accident. I think life is always waiting to teach you something, and it depends on whether you want to learn. I think that if you don't open your mind to learn something when life is trying to teach you the lesson, then one day you will have to learn it, and it might be more painful and inconvenient, honestly.

Truthfully, I didn’t actually want to be alone all the time, although I like to hang out with myself because I get me, but I wanted to connect with other people. I wanted to share my thoughts and laugh at other people’s jokes, even if I don't always get them. I even wanted people to laugh at mine, even the weird ones. Especially the weird ones.

At some point, I decided I should try joining groups. Which, for me was terrifying, felt like volunteering to walk into a room full of unpredictable variables. It was terrifying, actually. My mom always asked me to do things and go places to get involved, but I think I made it hard for her to take me sometimes because I was uncomfortable. When I used to get uncomfortable about something, I would most likely shut down and pace back and forth and listen to my music because it felt safe there. She did try to talk me out of that headspace and taught me some other kinds of techniques that I can use, so I'm all good now.

I used to think about what if I didn’t fit in? What if I said something awkward? What if I stood there too long thinking and someone thought I powered down? I haven't mastered doing that thing my mom taught me about telling people I need a little more time to process or think about things and to thank them for their patience. I still don't fully see the point, but I'm getting there.

So I started small and I looked for groups connected to things I actually care about, like books, games, interesting conversations, Marvel movies and characters, and stuff that already lives in my brain rent-free.

The first few meetings were intense. Not “Running Man” intense, but close. I showed up. I listened. I waited for openings in the conversation like I was merging onto a busy highway. I don't have my license yet, but I'm working on it. I feel like it would be a good idea now to get it, even though I already know how to drive, I can't because it wouldn't be right for me to drive without an actual license, so I get it.

Sometimes I stumbled over my words in the groups and sometimes I paused too long. But sometimes, this is important, I made people laugh, and that was cool. Sometimes I said something thoughtful and saw people nod. That felt like unlocking a new level.

Slowly, the shell started to crack.

Apparently, Different Is Actually a Good Thing

Here’s something I’m learning: being different is not a glitch. It’s more like a special feature.

Being autistic means I notice details other people skip. I think deeply about things. I care about fairness. I analyze patterns. I have a sense of humor that might take a second to land, but when it does, it lands with style.

The groups I’ve been joining aren’t full of “perfectly smooth social experts.” They’re full of interesting humans with their own quirks. Some talk too fast. Some ramble, and some overshare. The good part is that some are quiet like me, and I like to be quiet sometimes because talking too much doesn't really make sense to me.

And instead of just tolerating differences, we kind of celebrate them. It turns out I wasn’t supposed to sand down my edges. I was supposed to find people whose edges fit with mine, and that feels important.

I started paying attention to how I felt after each meeting. Not in a dramatic way, but just noticing patterns. From Tuesday to Tuesday, I realized I was a little more confident speaking up. A little less anxious walking in. I started laughing more and overthinking slightly less. Even forming small friendships.

Not instant best-friend movie montages. Just slow, steady connections.

It’s not a straight line. Some weeks I feel like a social ninja. Other weeks I feel like a confused background character. But overall? The trend is upward, and my brain likes trends.

What’s helping me most is starting small and talking about things I genuinely care about. It’s easier to speak when the topic already excites my brain. I also set tiny goals, like saying one thing during a meeting or asking one question. That might sound small to some people, but to me, that’s growth that I can measure, not with a ruler, but I'm paying close attention. I’ve also learned that progress doesn’t have to look dramatic. Some days you feel confident. Some days you feel like hiding in your hoodie. Both days count.

And finding your tribe, as my mom says, makes a huge difference. When people appreciate your quirks instead of trying to edit them out, you relax. And when you relax, you shine more.

Breaking out of my shell isn’t about turning into the loudest person in the room. It’s not about pretending socializing is effortless. It’s about letting the real me show up.

The thoughtful, slightly awkward me. The brilliant (yes, I’m using the word now) me.

If you’re reading this and you feel like you’re stuck inside your own shell, I get it. Shells feel safe. But sometimes there are really good conversations happening just outside of them.

You don’t have to smash your shell in one day. You can crack it slowly. Turtle style.

And if you’re lucky, you might have people who care about you that keep reminding you that you’re brilliant, even when you’re hiding.

Signed, Micaiah

Former shell resident. Current social-level-up participant. Brilliant (apparently).

Still quirky.