My Childhood Zebras

As a kid, I always felt out of step with the world around me. It was like everyone else was moving to a rhythm I couldn’t hear. I didn’t know why I felt different—I just knew I wasn’t the same.

I tried so hard to hide it. I masked the little things that made me stand out, like the way I moved my hands or the way my thoughts spilled out faster than I could catch them. I wanted to blend in so badly, to be “normal,” to be what I thought everyone expected me to be.

But no matter how hard I tried, I always felt like a zebra in a world of horses. My stripes—my differences—set me apart, and I hated them. I hated the way I didn’t fit, the way I couldn’t seem to do what others did so easily.

Now, looking back, I see how much I hurt myself trying to erase those stripes. I didn’t know then that they were a part of me—a beautiful part of me. It wasn’t until I found out I’m autistic that things started to make sense.

My stripes weren’t something to hide. They weren’t flaws or mistakes. They were the parts of me that made me unique, even if they made life harder in a world built for horses.

I still have days where I wish I could blend in, days where my stripes feel like too much to carry. But more and more, I’m learning to love them. I’m learning to see them as something to celebrate, not something to erase.

If you’ve ever felt like you didn’t belong, like you were trying to be something you’re not just to fit in—please know that you’re not alone. Your stripes are part of what makes you, you.

And if the world isn’t ready for your stripes, that’s on them—not you.

I’m still learning to embrace mine. But every day, I get a little closer to loving them.