Our neighborhood book club has become the place where we process everything hard that's happening in our lives and I love that closeness but lately it feels like we're all performing our problems for each other instead of actually supporting each other. The vulnerability has become performative somehow.
More people experience this than they realize.
Intimacy can calcify into patterns that look like connection but feel hollow, requiring the courage to name what's been lost.
“Where Are You with Belonging for neurodivergent people?”
If this sounds familiar, the Library can help you find the bigger picture.