‘Financial literacy should include so much more than numbers, but we’re rarely taught to approach it any other way’
A Q&A with Marian Schembari on redefining productivity after an autism diagnosis, learning to pay people for what you don’t want to do, and doing money when you’re bad at math
I’m not exaggerating when I say Marian Schembari is one of the best writers I know. I’ve had the pleasure of following her writing — for the likes of the New York Times, Slate, Marie Claire and Cup of Jo — for years, and I was able to benefit from her brain when she was my editor for one freelance client. And I was so excited and grateful when I learned Flatiron was publishing her book, A Little Less Broken, about her autism diagnosis at age 34.
As a late-, self-diagnosed woman with autism myself, Marian's stories made me feel seen and taught me things about myself. The book is not only deeply personal, but also well-researched and educational, and Marian’s stories are vital to helping us understand the realities — and beauties! — of autistic culture all around us.
I’m delighted to share Marian’s words with you all today, while we learn more about her relationship with money as a woman with autism and so much more.
In the book, you write, “Laziness was my secret shame.” In one chapter, you describe college, when you were put on Wellbutrin for depression that was actually autistic burnout due to the sensory overwhelm and executive functioning demands of transitioning to adulthood without support. Since your diagnosis, what have you learned about accommodating your need for rest in a culture that holds hustle and hard work in the highest esteem?
While writing my book, I stumbled across a quote frequently shared in the disability community that stopped me in my tracks: “The problem with trying to fit a square peg into a round hole is not so much the amount of time and effort and frustration of forcing the fit, but that you end up damaging the peg.” That about sums up the biggest thing I’ve learned: I might never change, but my environment can.
Today that looks like working from home full time, not taking video calls so I don’t have to stress about eye contact, limiting my social gatherings to no more than once every couple of weeks, choosing sensor- friendly clothing so I don’t waste all my capacity feeling irritated by a tag. And yes, lots and lots of rest: going to bed at 9pm, afternoon naps, and not scheduling more than one thing a day (like, if I go to the grocery store, I know that’s my thing. I can’t grocery shop and cook in the same day. After too many post grocery store meltdowns, I know that’s just not in the cards for me anymore.)
I still feel shame when I’m not "producing" the way I think I should, and during this book launch in particular I’ve found myself back on the hamster wheel, crying on a Saturday because I said yes to something I shouldn’t have. But at least I recognize it now. And when I think about the alternative — not being able to get out of bed for weeks because I pushed myself too hard to operate like a neurotypical person — it forces me to pause and reassess. It’s not always easy, but I’ve learned that pushing myself past my limits just isn’t worth it.
What’s the most joyful thing you’ve done with money in the past six(ish) months?
My husband and I took our seven-year-old daughter on our first international trip together as a family. We spent two weeks in Ireland, driving along the southern coast, hunting for sea glass and stopping to gawk at every crumbling castle, sweeping vista and sheep in the road.
It was an expensive trip. We rented a car, stayed mostly in hotels, and ate out for most meals because, frankly, I didn’t want to waste any of that precious time together cooking and grocery shopping and washing dishes. We definitely could have done it cheaper. We could have saved that money for an emergency fund (which would’ve been handy when our HVAC system broke later that summer), but I’d pay three times as much to re-experience the look on my daughter’s face as she ran toward Blarney Castle or the bracing cold of the Irish Sea as we swam together. I’ve made so many excuses not to travel since my daughter was born, and while it was stressful, expensive, exhausting and at least 25% of our days didn’t go as planned, I will never ever forget it. It was, without a doubt, the most joyful way I’ve spent my money in years, and I’m already planning our next adventure.
What messages did you get about money growing up? Which have you held onto and which have you let go?
If you don’t obsess over money, you’ll lose it. Dining out is frivolous. Never pay someone for something you can do or make yourself. Credit cards are evil. Travel is always worth it.
I’ve let go of most of these. I use credit cards and I pay people for their expertise because I can’t — and don’t want to — do everything myself. I still think travel is worth it, but now I also believe that dining out is worth it, too.
How do various facets of your identity impact your work and finances?
I’m sure being a cis woman, being in a creative (and famously underpaid) field, being autistic, and being white and Latina all impact my finances in different ways, but it’s hard to parse out exactly which identity influences which part.
For example, I’m terrible at math. It completely shuts down my brain and makes it hard to talk about finances with any clarity. That feels like the biggest hindrance to my financial life. I’ve wondered if that’s tied to my autism, my creative brain, or maybe just the fact that we only talk about finances through the lens of numbers and math. (Which, by the way, feels deeply flawed — financial literacy should include so much more than numbers, but we’re rarely taught to approach it any other way. There’s so much pressure to understand things like budgeting and investing in purely mathematical terms, when in reality, our emotions, instincts and identities play a huge role in financial decision-making.)
At the end of the day, it’s hard to untangle how different parts of my identity impact my financial decisions. Each facet — whether it's my autism, my creative drive, being a mother — plays a role, but they all overlap and influence one another. Ultimately, I think that’s the point: identity isn’t something you can neatly separate, and it shapes every aspect of life in ways that are constantly shifting.
What’s one financial decision that frequently causes you stress? How do you work through it?
The cost of socializing causes me so much anxiety omg. Not the literal financial cost, but the emotional toll of trying to navigate unspoken rules around money — like having to split a dinner bill or make group plans with people at different income levels. Then there’s tipping! The other day, I bought a coffee and a bag of beans from a local café. I knew I wasn’t expected to tip on the beans, but the little Square system automatically suggested tipping 25%, 20% or 18%. I always panic when it comes time to make a selection, especially with the server watching and people waiting in line behind me. In that moment I couldn’t do the fast math on just the coffee and couldn’t figure out how to leave a custom tip, so I ended up tipping $10 on a $5 cup of coffee. Oh man, my heart is racing just thinking about it. Honestly, it’s easier to just stay home.
Besides yours, what book about neurodivergence do you most recommend and why? Who is it best for?
I devoured Emily Farris’ memoir in essays, I’ll Just Be 5 More Minutes. While she talks about her late ADHD diagnosis, she also dives into topics like celebrity stalkers and home decorating. It’s light, engaging and so relatable. I’d recommend it to anyone who enjoys personal essays and wants to see a more joyful, nuanced perspective on neurodivergence — whether you’re neurodivergent yourself or just want to read a bunch of funny stories in a fresh voice.
Instead of talking about the weather, what do you wish strangers would ask you about when you meet on the street?
I interviewed a communication skills trainer for my book who said, “Nobody likes small talk, but you have to start somewhere.” Ever since, I’ve tried to view those seemingly boring questions differently — like they’re doorways into what could potentially become a deeper friendship. Plus, as someone with a lot of social anxiety, there’s something extremely comforting about having a few scripts in your back pocket to help you get to know someone.
I often ask people what they do, and while I know we don’t want to define folks by how they earn money, work is such a juicy topic. Once I learn someone is an accountant or a geologist or an esthetician, my favorite follow-up question is: “Do you like it?” That’s when conversations get interesting. We talk about their career trajectory or goals, and even if bookkeeping doesn’t fascinate me personally, I love hearing people talk passionately about what they care about.
Which is all to say: I wish strangers would ask me whether I like my work because the answer is YES, and I’d love to tell them all about why and how I got here.
Want to help amplify the message of Marian’s work? Consider joining me in donating to The Divergent Gift.
This is an incredible documentary being produced in Oregon by the autistic community that highlights the positive sides of autism. The Portland Art Museum and the Center for an Untold Tomorrow serve as their nonprofit fiscal sponsors, making all donations are tax deductible!
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