It’s been a while since I shared a Teddie story, so I decided to write another! For context, I’m currently working on three books: an Autistically ED-Free workbook, Anorexia Autistica, and my fiction novel about an autistic alien named Teddie. Because Teddie is my alter ego and fiction makes me feel infinitely creative, I share Teddie short stories once in a while 😊 

But why this specific story, and why now? Well, the world seems to be moving faster and faster, and so many people I speak to are experiencing burnout and feelings of hopelessness...so I wrote this Teddie story in the hopes that it helps you feel a little less alone, and empowers you to tap into your light 💖

Of course, if you want to go deeper and connect with me and other like-minded souls for support on your discovery journey, check out my coaching offers here. Now, I present to you: The Glass Box!

The Glass Box (A Teddie Story)

“What’s the point?” Teddie sighed.

The glass box had been there for as long as they could remember. With perfectly transparent walls, Teddie could see everything going on around them. A boundless world that bustled with possibility, yet every opportunity for connection seemed to float by like a soap bubble just out of reach.

Now, it’s not like Teddie hadn’t tried to fit into that world. Oh, they’d tried alright. They’d put their hands up to the glass and mimic gestures they’d seen others make, but their acting was met with sneers and laughter. They’d tried throwing themselves against the walls, but the more force they used, the more trapped they felt.

“What’s the point?” Teddie asked again, silently this time. Teddie had no energy left to even speak. In fact, Teddie had no energy for anything anymore. Everything that used to bring them joy no longer did. Anhedonia, Teddie learned it was called. It wasn’t quite depression, but more of a flat feeling. It was the inability to feel pleasure.

No matter how loud Teddie screamed, trying to penetrate the walls with their words, no one seemed to understand. Everyone said Teddie was depressed, that they should be admitted to a clinical box, that the people in the other box could fix Teddie. But Teddie didn’t need fixing. They didn’t hate their life, didn’t want to die. Teddie wanted to live, just not this life. They wanted to feel joy, but how? How could anyone exist in peace when every attempt to connect felt like trading off their authenticity?

“You’re in burnout,” someone in a nearby glass box said. “It’s very common when you’ve been masking your whole life.”

“Masking?” Teddie asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” they replied. “The constant miming, constantly trying to get people to like you, but constantly feeling like you’re failing…” they trailed off. “It’s exhausting.”

“Is that why I feel so hopeless?” Teddie asked. Even though that’s exactly how they felt, the conversation carried a spark of hope. The fact that the being in the other glass box had names for Teddie’s experience made them feel a little less alone.

“They say the antidote to burnout is rest,” the being replied, “but even that feels impossible!”

Teddie felt another spark of hope because they knew exactly what this other being was describing. But in that moment, Teddie became aware of two conflicting voices that had been pacing around the perimeter of the box.

“We need to DO something!” ADHD exclaimed. “There are ideas everywhere! Projects to start! Things to explore! We’re wasting time just sitting here!”

“Don’t be silly!” Autism responded. “Don’t you realize how overwhelmed we are? Besides, we’ve tried to act on countless ideas, we’ve started so many projects, we’ve explored every crevice of possibility, and look where it’s gotten us!”

ADHD kept pacing frantically, unsure what to make of Autism’s words. They, too, were exhausted. Because Autism was right: they’d flung themselves against the glass walls so many times, tried to make something out of this overwhelming existence, but every attempt at starting something new just led to disappointment and despair. Maybe they should lean into structure more, but how was that possible when their thoughts were pure chaos?

Autism was in the same bind. They sat down and covered themselves in a weighted blanket. They wanted to jump up and join ADHD in the dopamine dance, but they were too exhausted. “We need stability,” Autism whispered, almost inaudibly. “Boundaries keep us safe.” 

“Boundaries create a PRISON!” ADHD exclaimed, their pace quickening. By this point, they were running on pure adrenaline, the rush of a nervous system locked in fight-or-flight mode.

“Please stop!” Teddie cried. They covered their ears, but that too was pointless, because the voices comprised Teddie’s own mind. “I want to rest” Teddie let out, knowing all too well that ADHD and Autism would never let them. 

Now, ADHD had also lost its stamina. It slumped down next to Autism, burying their face in the weighted blanket. “What do we do now?”

“Hey, you’re not alone.” The glass box of the being who Teddie connected with earlier now had a golden glow.

“How do you know that?” Teddie asked, turning to face the light.

“C’mon everyone, let’s show Teddie how connected we are!” the being replied enthusiastically.

Slowly but surely, lights began surrounding Teddie, each emanating from their own glass box.

“Woooow!” ADHD let out as they jumped up and pressed their face to the glass. “That one’s got my energy!” They pointed to another glass box where a different ADHD was waving excitedly.

“And that one’s got my need for predictability and routine,” Autism said as they looked up from their weighted blanket.

Teddie was now so curious that they couldn’t help but press their own face to the glass.

And then they gasped.

Suddenly, surrounding lights began touching Teddie’s walls, turning their glass box into a prism. The light bent, refracted, and split into a spectrum of colors that turned darkness into the most beautiful rainbow Teddie had ever seen. That’s when they realized they weren’t trapped – they were part of a constellation of like-minded souls, a connection that existed precisely because each of them existed in their own glass box.

The anhedonia didn’t disappear, nor did the conflicting voices stop clamoring for attention. Rather, something far more powerful happened: Teddie had energy again. Energy to communicate with the other beings in a radically different way than they’d tried to communicate their whole life. Instead of having to act only to be made fun of, Teddie could finally be themselves. Instead of thrusting themselves into the walls to no avail, Teddie could finally feel grounded. For only when Teddie tapped into their essence – what made them who they were – could they see that it was their very essence that made them an essential color in this infinite rainbow.

“This,” Teddie whispered as they remembered their initial question, “this is the point.”

If you’re sitting in your own glass box right now, wondering what the point is, come join us in the Liv Label Free Membership! This is where we share our light without masking, without having to show up as anyone other than our true essence. Your box isn’t a prison, but a prism that’s an essential color in the neurodiverse rainbow 🌈