Spit It Out, Man!

Why I wear a recording device around my neck and why I almost didn't click "publish."

TLDR - The Short Version

• Writing last week’s story took everything out of me. I almost didn’t hit publish. Almost did it again with this one.

• I wear a recording device around my neck all day. The transcripts are worse than you’d imagine.

• An AI debated my life choices using my own words. It didn’t go easy on me.

• Why do I overshare? The answer is at the bottom. So is the audio.

---

There's an intentional thing I try to do with my stories. Maybe it doesn't always hit the mark. I call it “the window and the mirror.”

Each time I show you a glimpse of my world, I want to give you something back. A reflection of yourself. If you notice it, tell me in the comments.

---

To say that last week's story "We Did A Good Job" was difficult to write would be a gross understatement. It takes up to three days to finish a story. This one took me an entire week. When I read the first draft from start to finish, I was sobbing. Hard. And I hadn't started editing it yet.

It forced me to look beyond the mechanics of what happened. I know what I did and how it shaped the way I thought about myself for the next twenty years. That's not new.

It's different when you actually sit down and choose the words to describe how your actions made someone else feel. You're just guessing. My guess is likely harsher than the reality of it. It can get dark. And I can get stuck there for a while.

I've carried guilt for a long time. I didn't know how to make it go away. It became my travel companion. Always there, reminding me never to think too highly of myself.

There's something else. I almost didn't publish the story several times, right up till I clicked the button. My inner voice was telling me I was making a mistake. I didn't paint a very flattering picture of myself after all.

I don't know about yours, but my inner voice can be very persuasive. Dismissing it can feel risky. Sometimes it is.

When I started on Substack

I had just been diagnosed with ADHD. I have always been aware of my limitations. Before I had a name for it, I just thought I wasn’t smart.

If I was going to share my stories, I had to figure out a way to make them readable. My thoughts are chaotic and fragmented. You might notice I also don't always know when to stop.

It comes out when I speak. I talk fast. I'll say "um" three or four times in a single sentence. I might start in the middle of a story, then loop back to the beginning. My body language and facial expressions do half the work getting the point across.

Another charming feature of being neurodivergent for me is the constant distraction. When I have a good idea, a dozen random thoughts will quickly follow. If I'm not able to write it down immediately, POOF! It's gone.

A new conversation happens every week, and you’re invited. Come as you are.

If you saw your own reflection in that “POOF,” consider restacking this. It helps the right people find the room.

I read about this device called Plaud Note Pin, and decided to give it a try. Two very interesting things happened when I started wearing it.

First, I became addicted. I wear it all day every day on a lanyard around my neck. When I'm driving or walking Chase, I press one button and it records everything I say.

When I open the app on my phone, all the recordings transfer automatically. I click a button and it transcribes the whole thing to text.

Not just the part that sounds good, ALL of it. That was the second thing. And it was so much worse than I could have imagined.

But intermingled with all of the random sounds, the "ums" and stutters, was my voice. Word for word. All I needed to do was get rid of the ADHD “extras.”

I wrote a detailed AI prompt explicitly stating that it is prohibited from writing anything.

No correcting my grammar. No smoothing it out so it sounds better. It can only delete the words that don't belong.

The next prompt allows it only to move blocks of sentences around so they are in the right order. The result is still messy, but it has structure.

Then I write the story using the text blocks as my guide, and I end up with my first draft. That version is the equivalent of an eight year old trying to write a business letter, using all the best words they know.

Then I start over and I write it again. But this time with my own words in front of me, I’m able to think about how I would say it out loud.

It’s where my personality (good or bad) shows up. It’s how I would sound if I were having the best, most clear headed day. It's when I add the sarcasm and the eye rolls.

Here's how it starts:

Original Transcript · Feb 28, 2026 · Recorded with Plaud Note Pin

"Um, I did discover that I uh or I did get um diagnosed with ADHD, which has been. Not, Which has been a very eye opening experience for me and has helped me learn a lot about myself and about how to manage or kind of how to sit with myself with certain things. Um, and then I've started writing…"

Kind of makes you want to shake me and scream "spit it out man!"

Recently, I started exploring different ways of reframing my essays to make them more digestible for my neurodivergent family.

Condensing them for shorter attention spans. Adding captivating audio that isn't me jabbering incoherently for 20 minutes before you catch up with the point I'm trying to make.

An AI Debate

That's how this audio came about. It was an experiment and it had an extreme outcome.

I made the mistake of listening while I walked Chase and scurried home when the emotions were too strong to be in public.

I wrote a prompt for two AI radio show personas. I gave them opposing perspectives to last week's story and asked them to argue their case.

Basically, one had the opinion that because of the abuse, walls were constructed. The walls protected me from anyone finding out who I was. And that the idea of being gay was buried so deep I didn't believe it myself.

The other one argued that I knew and it was a convenient excuse and used my own words against me.

Writing the story tore me into pieces. The audio obliterated me.

Letting an AI debate your life choices is an interesting experience.

They make some assumptions and use charged language for the purpose of making it more interesting. It’s important to note that I did not give them a script. They were given a a copy of the story and told to debate the two perspectives provided to them.

It's a bit of a gut-punch, but maybe the person who needs it will hear it.

Needless to say my inner voice (which also doubles as my better judgement) didn't succeed in convincing me not to publish "We Did A Good Job", just like it didn't convince me not to share the audio debate.

Maybe I do overshare

It isn't my goal to shock anyone, or make them sad. It's not because I expect anyone to feel sorry for me. I'm not telling stories to feed an inflated ego.

So why do this? I'm not the only person who's had trauma in their life. Why don't I just write it in a journal and keep it to myself? Trust me, I've thought about it.

Sure, the circumstances are mine. I've lived a life of extremes. Most people aren't going to relate to billionaires, superyachts or building a farm in Nicaragua.

But if you set aside the extremes, you're left with an emotional experience. It's there that the reader sees something about themself.

—R. Michael

P.S. I sent last week’s story to Amy on Mother’s Day. I wasn’t sure I should. She wrote back and said she forgave me a long time ago. I wasn’t ready for that either.