
In a world that often sidelines anyone who doesn’t fit the “norm,” inclusion isn’t just a buzzword — it’s a lifeline.
This is our story.
It’s about my 20-year-old son, Trey, who was diagnosed with autism.
It’s about my younger son, Jaxon, who has faces social anxiety and heartbreaking insecurities.
And it’s about me, a mom living with complex PTSD from childhood trauma, who found belonging through CrossFit and has made it her mission to ensure everyone else can, too.
Trey has always felt like an outsider. At school, he often ate lunch alone, watching classmates cluster together while he clung to one steady friend, a pattern common among individuals on the autism spectrum.
Jaxon wasn’t immune, either. His size made him an easy target for bullies, and by the time he transitioned to online classes, he was trying to escape the cruel labels that had slowly chipped away at his confidence.
Their pain is familiar. I know what it’s like to feel unseen, to believe you don’t belong. That’s why I’ve always fought to make home a sanctuary, a place where they could feel safe, accepted, and loved exactly as they are.
Conversations at home shape connection. Just yesterday, I asked Trey if he had made any friends at his new job. He paused before saying softly, “No.”
“Do you talk to anyone?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “because I don’t feel like I fit in anywhere.”
That moment broke my heart, but it also reignited my purpose.
When we moved back from Germany and I lost the gym where I once felt accepted, I built a new one. That’s how Converse CrossFit was born in 2016. When we later closed our doors in 2021, I worried I’d lose that sense of belonging again. But I found it at CrossFit Virilis, a community that truly walks the talk of inclusivity.
Here, it doesn’t matter if you’re young or old, fit or just beginning, neurotypical or neurodivergent, everyone belongs. There’s no judgment here, only encouragement and connection.
Now I get to watch Trey and Jaxon discover strength, not just in workouts, but in community, in camaraderie, in shared sweat and struggle. Their confidence grows bit by bit, just as mine once did. And as a mom, I can tell you: it’s far harder to watch your kids struggle than to go through it yourself. But watching them rise, that’s the greatest pride I’ve ever known.
CrossFit gives them the tools to face the world, resilience, discipline, confidence, and the community reminds them they are never alone.
This isn’t just our story — it’s a reflection of a much larger crisis.
Autistic individuals face a three to seven times higher risk of suicide than the general population, with some studies suggesting an even greater risk. Around 34% experience suicidal thoughts, and 24% have attempted suicide. Even among children as young as eight, researchers have found alarming rates of suicidal ideation.
Co-occurring conditions like CPTSD, anxiety, and depression only compound that risk. Add social isolation, bullying, and the exhaustion of “masking” to fit in, and you begin to see how essential belonging truly is.
This isn’t about luxury or comfort. Belonging is survival.
And teenagers in general aren’t exempt. Up to 60% of teens say they feel like they don’t fit in at school. That kind of exclusion and ridicule leaves deep emotional scars often manifesting as depression, anxiety, or self-doubt that lasts long into adulthood.
At CrossFit Virilis, inclusion isn’t a slogan — it’s a daily practice:
Those ripples extend far beyond the gym walls. Creating a space where someone feels they belong doesn’t just change their day, it can change, and even save, their life.
Everyone deserves to feel like they belong.
If you’ve ever felt unseen, take heart, you are not alone.
And if you’re in a position to lead, teach, or build community, make room. See the ones eating alone. Notice the ones shrinking themselves just to fit in. Extend kindness, not because it’s easy, but because it’s brave.
That’s what changes lives. That’s what builds the kind of world I want my kids to grow up in.
This story isn’t just words, it’s a lifeline.
It’s a call to build inclusive spaces, not just at home, but everywhere.
For Trey.
For Jaxon.
For every person who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong.
Thank you for reading and remember: no matter where you are in your journey, there’s a place where you belong. And we might just be that place.