Fish Philosophy

Hide and Shine

Question isn’t whether the world can handle the authentic you, but whether you’re ready to stop asking permission to exist

Mo and I are walking along in the Oregon Coast Aquarium and instead of looking through the glass I suddenly realized I was looking in a mirror. Those wolf eels with their saggy jowls and perpetual frown, hunched in their rocky caves like they’ve given up on small talk forever. The grouper hanging motionless, mouth agape, looking like they just remembered something embarrassing from 1987. Every fish tank became a reflection of my own face when I think nobody’s watching.

I realize I've been making this exact face in meetings for years.

Here I am, 98.9% sure about the autism thing, Mo cranking that up to 110% because she’s always been better at math than me. Decades of carefully calibrated social performance wearing thin like old bike tires. The masking game that kept me functional in meetings and grocery stores and family dinners now feels like it’s slowly suffocating what’s left of my actual personality. Can the world handle the unfiltered version? The one that says exactly what it thinks about your renovation project or your vacation photos or your opinion on bike lanes?

The tide pool crew living their best unmasked life.

But then we hit the tide pool exhibit and everything changed. Vibrant sea anemones waving their tentacles like they’re at some underwater rave. Orange and purple starfish draped over rocks without apology. A copper rockfish sporting patterns so bold it looked like it was painted by someone who’d never heard the word “subtle.”

lobsters don’t apologize for having claws

While the ocean doesn’t give a damn about fitting in… well, I am rambling now. Mo points at the tank and says, “Hey there corn-pop”.