Episode 42

Sudoku Shame, Sandwich Logic and Ridiculous Brains

Published on: 11th February, 2026

I didn’t plan to talk about sandwiches this much.

Or water.

Or Sudoku.

But here we are.

Hi, I’m Lauren Howard. You can call me L2. Like other people do.

In this episode of Different, Not Broken, I talk about the strange, often ridiculous ways our brains create shame out of absolutely nothing. Eating the “wrong” food. Convincing yourself you hate water even though you love it. Feeling mortified because you’re slow at a logic puzzle no one else can see.

I unpack why our brains invent rules that don’t exist, why invisible judgement feels so real, and why being seen trying can feel worse than actually failing.

This episode is about shame that doesn’t make sense, fear of looking ridiculous, and the quiet pressure to only be visible once you’re already good at something.

Later in the episode, for "Small Talk", I respond to a listener question about the fear of being seen trying, and why vulnerability feels so exposing even when no one is actually paying attention.

You’ll hear:

Why your brain makes up rules it then punishes you for

How harmless things turn into sources of shame

Why being slow doesn’t mean being broken

Why feeling ridiculous is often a sign you’re doing something new

How to stop letting imagined judgement run your life

Once you’ve been inspired to brag, here’s where you can do it!

https://differentnotbrokenpodcast.com/voicemail

Useful stuff

Stuff that helps you become awesome even if you’re different: https://stan.store/elletwo


My grown up job: https://lbeehealth.com/


Chapters / Timestamps


00:00 – Sudoku shame and the nonsense our brains create

01:12 – Sandwich logic and internalised rules

03:32 – Why I pretend I hate water

06:08 – Invisible judgement and made-up leaderboards

09:14 – Listener question: fear of being seen trying

12:32 – Getting comfortable feeling ridiculous

15:40 – Why most people are not paying attention

18:05 – What I actually want you to hear before you go

Mentioned in this episode:

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Transcript
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If your brain beats you up over very stupid stuff, tell it to

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shove it. I have sudoku shame.

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I make myself feel so bad. Speaking of

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stupid things my brain does to me on the regular.

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All right, here we go. I'm gonna pretend I'm pushing record 'cause that feels right.

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Okay, I'm pressing record. Boop. Hi

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everybody, I'm Lauren Howard. Welcome to Different

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Not Broken, which is our podcast on exactly that,

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that there are a lot of people in this world walking around feeling broken, and

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the reality is you're just different, and that's fine. I like to

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eat sandwiches that normal people eat, like, for

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lunch for breakfast. I don't usually eat actual breakfast food.

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I'd eat, like, turkey and cheese sandwiches, which isn't that far

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off from a breakfast food in the US, at least. But anyway, and so I

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was making the sandwich, and there's nothing like

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eating salami at, like, 6

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o'clock in the morning. Like, it sets the tone for the day.

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And I did regret it afterward. I was like, I think I'm officially too old

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for this kind of garlic at 6 o'clock in the morning. But anyway, so I

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have just like the turkey sandwich that I eat all the time,

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I have a very specific salami sandwich that I

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eat, which is salami, usually kosher salami,

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on white bread with mayonnaise, and that's it.

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That's it. And I

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cannot tell you when I started eating it. Actually, that's not true.

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That's not true. We were on vacation

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when I was a teenager, and it was the only thing that we had in

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the whole, like, little suite we were in. For some reason, my mom

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bought a, like, a log of salami. I don't know. Anyway,

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so I made a sandwich and I was like, this is good. And then I

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proceeded to eat that forever. So anyway, one time

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I'm making my sandwich and I did not realize that my dad was standing in

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the kitchen with me. And he looks at me and he's

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like, "What kind of sandwich is that?" And I was like, "Salami."

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He goes, "Wait, like salami

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on what?" He's like, "That's white bread." And I

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said, "Yeah, salami on white bread with—"

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mayonnaise. And he goes, salami

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on white bread, white bread with mayonnaise.

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And I was like, yeah, that's how I like my sandwich. And he looks me

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straight in the face and goes, that's antisemitic, and just walks away.

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I was like, well,

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I'm just I'm gonna, just gonna eat my hate sandwich then. It's just

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how I like to eat my sandwich. Apparently it was supposed to

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be on rye bread with mustard, which— ew.

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Ew. I don't mind mustard. Not on that sandwich. I don't want mustard on

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that sandwich. But rye bread, I can't do it. I understand that there's

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something wrong with my DNA coding that I,

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as a Jew person, cannot eat rye bread, but I do not like rye bread.

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It tastes like feet. Tastes like if you mixed

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feet with unground grain.

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I don't like rye bread. Sorry. So anyway,

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that was when my dad nearly disowned me over a sandwich.

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My dad loved me so much that he allowed

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me to live in his house despite my questionable choices. That should really

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be the punchline. So I have a genuine question about

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why brains are weird, or why they're weird in this way particularly.

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Or maybe this is just my brain. I don't know. Why

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does my brain think I hate water? Not like water in a swimming

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pool, like water in a cup. Because I swear to you,

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I will go somewhere and have a glass of ice water, and it will be

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like, what is this delicacy? And how do I get more of

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it? This is delicious. And then

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I go home and it's time to get something to drink and I'm like, blah,

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water, blah, I don't want that, blah. Or like,

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I have a fridge full of seltzer. I like seltzer. I like flavorless

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seltzer, just water and bubbles. It's a very

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Jewish thing. It's— I've drank seltzer my whole life.

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I really enjoy it. I don't

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want that. And then I drink it, and I'm like, this is amazing. Why don't

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I have this more often? Why does my brain

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think that I don't like water? Why is it

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that— that it's like, you definitely need to drink something

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full of sugar and other

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carcinogens, probably,

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instead of going to the fridge that is that

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like literally has access to cold filtered

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water that is delicious every time I drink it. You put a little

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ice in there and it's like, it's amazing. It's every, I

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rediscover it all the time. I'm like, this is so good. I should drink it

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more. And then the next day I'm like, blah,

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blah. Why does my brain do this? Does your brain do this about

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anything, particularly water, but anything? I need to know.

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Because I don't— I just, I would save myself a lot of time and money

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if I would just go to the fridge and get water. But I think about

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drinking water and I'm like, "Blah, gross." And then I drink it and I'm like,

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"Oh, this is quite nice. This is so refreshing. This is certainly more

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refreshing than the big gulp of

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aspartame that my brain wants to drink." And

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so anyway, I just need to know why that happens. And if somebody could fix

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it, that'd be great. Speaking of stupid things my brain does to me

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on the regular, once you start noticing them, it's like everything's a stupid

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thing your brain does to you. And I unfortunately have been paying attention to these

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lately, so this is fun. So

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I, LinkedIn has those like little games that you can play

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now. They're like little, and it used to be

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that they weren't connected to anybody. You would play them and other

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people would play them, but there wasn't like a leaderboard or anything. And you also

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don't have to participate in the leaderboard. Also, nobody pays attention

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to the leaderboard, but there are, I think there

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are 4 of them that I play. They usually take like 30

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seconds a day. This is not like, this is not like me devoting an

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hour to solving logic puzzles every day. Like my life is a logic

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puzzle. I don't need to spend that much time doing ones that are created for

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me, but it is kind of fun to just go on there and

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Whatever. And usually they're very quick and they scratch my brains

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in the way my brain needs to be scratched. And it's, it's very nice. And

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I always like to be under the daily average. So like if

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the daily average was 35 seconds, if I'm 34 seconds or less, I'm

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solid. And not that it matters, but like that's how I

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don't wanna be longer than the daily average. So most of them I like blow

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the daily average outta the water cuz I am I am very good

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at logic puzzles and nothing else. And so most of them I'm like

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way under, but they added a mini Sudoku

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in the last, I don't even know how long it's been a little while now,

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but they added one. I'm pretty bad at the

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Sudoku. Like I think I put way

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too much thought into it and it makes me very slow with the Sudoku. I

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figure it out. Don't get me wrong, I get there. But

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every day I finish the Sudoku and like brace myself

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because I'm like, oh my God, I'm gonna be so— I'm gonna be so much

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higher than the average. Oh my God, I'm gonna be mortified. And then I'm like

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a minute— like the average is 1 minute and 52 seconds and I'm like 2

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minutes and 45 seconds. And I'm like, this is the end, this is the end,

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my life is over. How could I possibly— nobody sees

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my fucking Sudoku speed. No one

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knows that I completed the Sudoku. Even if it goes on a

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leaderboard, no one's checking it. It's not like—

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there's no— there I am. I am like deeply mortified

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every day, so much so that I don't even want to play it. Not because

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I don't enjoy it, but because I am

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not fast enough at the Sudoku. This should not

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matter. The shame that I carry, and I wish I was

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joking about this, I have Sudoku shame.

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I make myself feel so bad because I'm not

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fast enough at the Sudoku, and I have to have like a pep talk

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every day. Like, that's just not how the brain works. That's

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okay. There's nothing wrong with that. Nobody else can do

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the snake one in 8 seconds. I can do the snake one in 8

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seconds. That should be enough, right?

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But the idea of some stranger on the

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internet knowing that I am inept at the

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Sudoku gives me a great sense of

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shame. Great enough that I almost don't do the

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Sudoku some days. And that is silly. It

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should not matter. Sudoku shame is not a thing.

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My brain is creating that. My brain is making me feel bad.

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For academia just to see what happens. There is

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no— there's no value to this thing. But

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every day I get done with it and I'm like, is this the day that

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I finally beat it? Then occasionally I do and I'm like,

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I'm getting good at it. And then the next day it

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doesn't matter. It's a brain game. It's just proving that my brain works.

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Brains that work slow still work.

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There's no additional value to my life or to my own person because I

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can do the Sudoku quickly. It's not a thing. It's not a

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thing. Anyway, if your brain beats you up over very

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stupid stuff, tell it to shove it.

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And you can take as long to do the Sudoku as you want, and that

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is more for my need to hear it than it is for yours, but you

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should also take it with you. It's

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just do the Sudoku. It's good for your brain. It might not be good

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for your ego, but it's good for your brain.

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That happened this morning. I was really disappointed in myself. It took me a long

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time to do the Sudoku. I was like, LinkedIn people are

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smarter than I am.

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Either that or they just are better at picking random numbers that happen to

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fit into the mini Sudoku.

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And now we'll go to Allison, who has this week's

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Small Talk. Okay, so we have a question from

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Devin in Pasadena, California.

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I'm scared of being seen trying. I'll work really

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hard in private, but the moment something becomes visible,

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I want to disappear. How do you let people see you without feeling

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exposed or ridiculous?

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Man, do I feel this. This is like my whole vibe.

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Like, first off, if I'm not immediately good at something, I don't wanna do it.

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I don't wanna try again. Like, and I see my 7-year-old doing that all the

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time and I'm like, oh, that's not great. Don't do that. Like if, if I

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have to work really hard at something, I immediately assume I'm a failure because I

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wasn't just good at it on the first try, which is like a thing. But

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I have always struggled, always,

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with the idea of looking like I

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think I'm good at something, something that like requires talent

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and that requires trying and it requires vulnerability.

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Because what if you're not good at it?

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What if, like, what if you decide you

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want to sing in front of a bunch of people and then you end up

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not being a good singer? Or, or

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why would— like, what if you made the presumption that somebody wanted to

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listen to you sing and you were wrong? How mortifying.

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That's how I felt. I'm not saying that that's actually true. That's how I always

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felt, is like going out of your comfort zone— not

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even out of your comfort zone, doing something that requires

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eyeballs on you makes the assumption

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that you think you have something to give them, something to offer them that

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they might want to take and, or

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they might want to consume. And that is

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that level of vulnerability. And I say this as somebody who literally shares my

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entire life into a microphone multiple times a week. That level of vulnerability

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feels like the end of the actual world to me, or at least it did.

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In some ways it still does.

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I think you're coming at it from the wrong perspective.

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I think it's not about figuring out how to not feel ridiculous,

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and it's about just getting comfortable feeling ridiculous.

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Like, you're gonna feel ridiculous all the time. I do it constantly.

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But what is the logical outcome? Or like, what's the

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worst thing that comes from you feeling ridiculous? Somebody else thinks

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you're ridiculous? Okay, fuck 'em.

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Most people don't care. Most people are not paying attention

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or they're like, it takes way too much thought to put emotional

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investment into whatever you are doing. They're busy paying attention to their

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own stuff. Nobody's paying attention to you. I actually learned this when I

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very, very start— first started sharing content on the

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internets, which was mortifying to me. And please

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note, I'm talking into a microphone right now that's going to get

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posted on the internet. So that was our starting point.

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I was like, people are gonna read this and they're gonna be mortified that

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I— they're gonna be mortified on my behalf that I thought

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I had anything to say. They're gonna be like, who is this chick?

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Why should I give a crap about what she has to say? She should be

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so embarrassed. And someone very early

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on said to me,

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You're not doing things because you're worried about what people are going to think, and

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they are not thinking about you. They don't

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care. There is nothing that you are doing that they give a

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shit about. And if you do anything big enough

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that they give a shit about, you've done something huge.

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People are not paying attention to you. And also,

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if they are paying attention to you, just to say something

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shitty, why do you care about their opinion if that's the type of

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people they are? So you just get used

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to feeling ridiculous. It's not a bad feeling.

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In fact, once you get used to feeling ridiculous and being comfortable with it, it's

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actually kind of fun. There's a lot of, you

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know, I say this as the person who again, doesn't like to put on

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shoes or pants and leave the house, but that's like

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That's not because I feel ridiculous doing it. That's not because I feel out of

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place. It's because it's a lot of work that I don't want to do.

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It's— if you were like, hey, we're

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going to go to this place and we're going to do a really stupid thing

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and we're going to wear sumo suits and jump around

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like crazy people and sumo wrestle in a

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giant sumo ring, I'd be like, done. Let's

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go do it. Sounds delightful. I'm on board. Because

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when you feel ridiculous, it's because you're probably having fun.

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You're probably moving outside of your comfort zone. You're

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probably doing something that is not anything that

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you don't have any sense memory on. You're not just repeating something over and over.

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You're doing something new. I don't think it's about figuring out how to not feel

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ridiculous. I think it's about figuring out how to do things when you feel ridiculous.

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Feel ridiculous, whatever. People who have negative opinions about

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that can get bent, and the people who love you will

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come be ridiculous with you, and the rest of the people

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aren't gonna be paying attention. And why are you making decisions for yourself

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over the responses of other people who don't matter? They

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don't matter. Go be ridiculous. The world needs a little bit more

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ridiculousness that is not tied to an orange wannabe

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despot with tiny hands. Go be ridiculous.

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He's really sensitive about his tiny hands, so I like to talk about them all

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the time. Also his cankles. Come at me,

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bro. I'd be much more likely to end up with RFK on one of my

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feeds because I talk so much shit about him very directly,

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but I'll take either. That would be like—

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that's the moment where I would die happy. Is when either of them know

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that some random woman with a microphone is talking shit about them

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on the internet without fear. Get fucked. All of a

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sudden, my birth certificate is nonexistent.

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About the Podcast

Different, Not Broken
You’ve spent your whole life feeling like something’s wrong with you. Here’s a radical thought: what if you’re not broken - just different?

Welcome to Different, Not Broken, the no-filter, emotionally intelligent, occasionally sweary podcast that challenges the idea that we all have to fit inside neat little boxes to be acceptable. Hosted by L2 (aka Lauren Howard), founder of LBee Health, this show dives into the real, raw and ridiculous sides of being neurodivergent, introverted, chronically underestimated - and still completely worthy.

Expect deeply honest conversations about identity, autism, ADHD, gender, work, grief, anxiety and everything in between.

There’ll be tears, dead dad jokes, side quests, and a whole lot of swearing.

Whether you're neurodivergent, neurotypical, or just human and tired of pretending to be someone you’re not, this space is for you.

Come for the chaos.
Stay for the catharsis.
Linger for the dead Dad jokes.