A quiet conversation about safety, unmasking, and remembering forward—how the book begins before it is written, how voice returns when the ground becomes safe enough to stand on, and how meaning arrives whole, then unfolds.
This conversation felt like naming the shape of a week that arrived all at once. What looked from the outside like prolific writing was, in truth, groundwork—laying the field before the real project can stand. The book itself is beginning to take form, but what emerged in speaking with Cathy was the sense that I am not yet pitching the tent; I am preparing the estate it will live on. The idea of “remembering forward” sat quietly underneath everything—how the whole arrives first, fully formed in feeling, and then unfolds across essays, series, and strands that slowly make the larger structure visible.
We circled around unmasking, but not as confession or performance. What surfaced instead was safety—the recognition that masking is rarely choice so much as adaptation. As a gestalt processor, meaning arrives on its own timing, often inconveniently late by the standards of the world around me, and so masking becomes a way to survive economics, relationships, institutions. Over time, the mask can begin to feel like the truth, while the self behind it becomes suspect or defective. Speaking it aloud made clear that this series is not about fixing anything; it is about reclaiming legitimacy for a way of processing that has always been whole.
The conversation also pulled forward memories of safety lost and safety found—early experiences of accent and difference, the lessons learned about staying quiet, the years navigating environments where honesty or queerness carried risk. I found myself reflecting on how deeply survival shapes voice, and how often translation becomes necessary simply to remain employed or physically safe. At the same time, there was space to acknowledge privilege and complexity—the ways some identities are tolerated as quaint whilst others are marked as threat—and the responsibility to hold that awareness whilst speaking about inclusion.
What became clearer to me as we talked was that the current flow of writing exists because the ground beneath me has changed. There is enough stability now—professional, relational, structural—that the work can arrive without fragmentation. The essays are forming a sequence: unmasking first, then a reframing of executive functioning through time and kairos, and alongside it the relational strands exploring friendship and co-regulation as conditions for safety. Each piece feels less like argument and more like invitation, an attempt to build a field where recognition can happen quietly for those who need it.
By the end, the feeling was not closure but momentum. Cathy’s reflections reminded me that these writings ripple outward into classrooms, families, and lived encounters far beyond my own story. I left the conversation with a sense of direction for the month ahead: the unmasking arc, the encounter with resistance, the movement toward time and relationality—all already in motion. It felt like standing on the threshold of something large, not rushing, simply letting the next right piece arrive when it is ready.
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