It started as a joke—like all my coping mechanisms—but next thing I knew, I was explaining to an Etsy vendor why I needed the phrase “Undiagnosed But I Think I Got a Lil Tism” sewn onto a dad hat in bubblegum pink. She asked, “Are you sure?” I said, “Ma’am, I’ve never been more unsure in my life, and that’s kind of the point.” The hat arrived in a puff of irony and self-awareness, and I’ve worn it ever since like a knight wears a helmet—except instead of protection from swords, it’s to ward off small talk and neurotypical expectations.
The reactions have been… incredible. One guy at the grocery store gave me a solemn nod like I just told him I was in ‘Nam. A barista told me it was “brave.” I’m just trying to remember my PIN number without mentally recreating the keypad in Photoshop, but thank you, Cheryl. And every so often, someone will whisper “me too” as they pass by, which feels like the world’s weirdest support group where the password is embroidered millennial sarcasm.
My mom saw it and asked, “Is that a diagnosis?” and I said, “No, it’s a vibe.” She didn’t get it. But that’s okay—this hat isn’t for everyone. It’s for the overthinkers, the misfit puzzle pieces, the eye-contact-averse warriors of weird. And honestly? I’ve never felt more seen. Even if I’m still waiting three years for a proper psych evaluation. Until then, embroidery will have to do.
