Every so often, a song sneaks past the noise in my mind and lodges itself directly in my chest. Not just as a melody, but really as a reminder, a memory, and/or a message. That’s what happened the first time I really listened to the song “I’ve Got the Magic in Me.”

It’s catchy, sure. Light and playful, with a beat that begs you to nod along. And beneath the surface, it’s a declaration. It’s a truth spoken out loud for someone like me who is neurodivergent, queer, and often tangled in self-doubt and the demand to prove my worth. For me it hits different. It wasn’t just a lyric, it was a mirror. And honestly, I am seeing a lot of mirrors lately.

Because I do have magic in me and so do you. We don’t the wand-waving, spark-throwing kind. We have the quieter magic. The kind of magic that lives in pattern recognition, in the way we read a room before a word is even spoken. In how we connect ideas that seem unrelated and in how we survive days that were never designed for us and still show up with tenderness, curiosity and with power.

My magic shows up in quiet and often unnoticed ways. It’s in how I revisit moments over and over until I can understand them from every angle. Like I am searching for meaning and clarity in everything. It’s in how I listen to not just the words, but to the emotion behind them. It’s in the way I sense what hasn’t been said and try to gently make space for it. My magic is the softness I offer, even when I’m overwhelmed. It’s the way I pull myself out of spirals and still find a way to be present for others. That kind of resilience, the ability to unravel and still return with care, isn’t always praised, but it is real. And it’s powerful!

The world doesn’t always reward that kind of magic. It likes magic that looks like charisma and/or hustle. Magic that looks like easy success. But in my opinion, our magic often looks like recovery. Like adapting. Like creating something beautiful from a place others would have abandoned. It looks like spinning gold out of overstimulation. Like deep empathy in the face of disregard. Like continuing to believe in people, even when we weren’t believed in ourselves.

And there’s another layer to this, one that no one prepared me for. When you carry that kind of magic, the world might not see it at all. Often times, the world dismisses it. It might tell you it’s “too much” or “not useful,” “overbuilt,” or “too sensitive.” But let me be clear…sensitivity is not weakness. It’s the raw material of wisdom. It’s the fabric of intuition. It’s the compass that has always led me deeper into the world.

So when that song comes on, I don’t just hear a beat. I hear a reminder. That I was never meant to blend in. That my neurodivergence isn’t a detour from who I’m meant to be, it’s a doorway into it. The parts of me that once felt burdensome aka my spirals, my sharpness, my softness, my “too muchness, ” Those are all my signal flares. They lead me back to the core of who I am. And when I stop fighting them, they light up everything.

Magic, I’ve learned, is not performance. It’s presence!! It’s how you stay kind when you could be cold. It’s how you hold space for others without disappearing yourself or your identity. It’s the quiet belief that even when your voice shakes, it matters. Even when your rhythm doesn’t match the room, you still have something to offer. Even when the world asks you to shrink, you choose to stand a little taller.

So when I say I’ve got the magic in me, I mean the resilience and the insight. The way I care more than is convenient. The way I refuse to numb out. The way I find patterns in pain and create language for people who have never had words for their experience. I mean the magic that doesn’t always sparkle but is steady, quiet and true.

We all have it. We just forget. We bury it under productivity and performance and pretending to be okay. But it’s still there and it always has been. Sometimes we just need the right reminder like a lyric, a look, or a song on a hard day.

​So the next time the world feels heavy and your light feels dim, put on that song. Let it remind you. Let it be your anthem, your invitation back to yourself. Say it with your whole chest…”I’ve got the magic in me and I won’t let the world forget it.”