I used to walk into family dinners like I was stepping onto a stage where everyone else had rehearsed the script except me.
They had easy stories, clean careers, right pronouns, normal lives. I had half-finished answers and a body that never felt like it belonged to the person they thought they knew.
If this is you too, this isn’t advice. It’s just a hand raised from the same side of the table.
You’re not broken because you need to take breaks, go quiet, or leave early. You’re not dishonest because you don’t spill everything. You’re allowed to exist in that in-between space without performing gratitude for people who don’t fully see you.