Learning German has been an adventure, a rollercoaster of “Ich kann das machen!” moments and those delightful, deer-in-headlights stares at sentences that look like someone spilled alphabet soup on a page. But seriously, I’m not just doing this because I decided I needed a shiny new brain exercise. Oh no, this is also about my grandpa. He grew up speaking German, and while he’s a champ at English, there’s this sparkle in his eyes when he slips into his first language. It’s like the words carry pieces of his heart that only German can unlock. So yes, I’m learning German, partly because I love the idea of speaking with him in a way that feels like home for him.

But you know what’s funny about learning languages? They have this sneaky way of showing you all the nooks and crannies in your brain you didn’t think about much. Like, did you know that conjugating verbs in another language can apparently ignite a small existential crisis? Or that I can ask for coffee in German but somehow still manage to sound like I’ve just run a marathon? “Ich möchte einen Kaffee, bitte!” I say, grinning like a total newbie while my tongue trips over itself and my brain politely reminds me it has no idea if I conjugated that right. It’s chaotic, but hey, chaos is where the magic happens, isn’t it?

And then, because I apparently can’t get enough of this self-improvement-in-chaos vibe, I’ve got sign language on the docket too. It’s not just a random “oooh, wouldn’t that be cool?” thing either. Honestly, it feels like a homecoming of sorts. You see, I’ve always been a gesticulator. My hands move when I talk like they’re possessed by the spirit of a really enthusiastic mime. Except somewhere along the way, I learned to suppress it. Why? Who knows. Maybe it was one too many weird looks from people who clearly didn’t appreciate my dramatic hand choreography. Maybe it was that little voice in my head whispering, “Tone it down, you look like you’re auditioning for interpretive dance.” But here’s the thing: with sign language, I get to bring all that back. My hands get their starring role again, and this time, it’s not weird. It’s communication. It’s art. It’s me, just as I am.

And here’s where things get even cooler. As someone with AuDHD (that magical cocktail of autism and ADHD), I’m constantly finding ways to make the world work for me in unique, sometimes hilariously unconventional ways. Enter sign language. Not only can I finally let my hands do their thing without feeling like I’m being judged, but the repetitive movements of signing? They might just double as a stim. I mean, how perfect is that? It’s like the universe whispered, “Here’s a tool for communication and self-regulation. You’re welcome.” The idea is still percolating in my brain, but I’m pretty sure this is one of those “Why didn’t I think of this before?” moments. Random chaos? Maybe not. Workable chaos? Absolutely.

Speaking of stims, sound stims are another little puzzle piece in my life. I have them, I know I do, but they’re sneaky little devils. They hide in plain sight, blending seamlessly into my day until someone—usually someone who knows me well—points them out. “Hey, you do that thing with your voice when you’re focused.” Wait, what? I do? Cue me, suddenly hyper-aware of every sound I make, dissecting my own habits like I’m running some kind of field study on myself. It’s wild. But it’s also kind of fascinating. The more I learn about myself, the more I find these little quirks that make me, well, me. And the more I learn languages, the more I realize how much they tap into the same curiosity and love of discovery.

Because let’s face it, learning languages isn’t just about memorizing vocabulary or getting the grammar right (though, let’s be real, I’m still haunted by German articles). It’s about connection. It’s about opening doors to new worlds and new people. It’s about being able to order coffee in Berlin without switching to English, sure, but it’s also about understanding how someone else sees the world through their words. And the perks? Oh, the perks are endless. Mental health benefits? Check. Keeping my brain sharp? Double check. Being able to make my grandpa smile in that way that only speaking German can? Triple check.

And you know what? If I can communicate with more people because of this, that’s just the cherry on top. Imagine being able to connect with someone in their own language, to bridge that gap and say, “Hey, I see you, and I want to understand you.” That’s powerful. That’s beautiful. And if it means fumbling through sentence structures and making hilarious mistakes along the way, I’m all in.

But let’s not forget the hilarity that comes with the process. Like the time I tried to say “I am learning German” and accidentally said something that roughly translated to “I am a German.” Whoops. Or when I enthusiastically signed something I thought meant “thank you” but apparently looked more like “I need a sandwich.” Learning languages isn’t just humbling; it’s downright funny. You have to laugh at yourself; otherwise, the sheer absurdity of it all might get to you.

So here I am, juggling German and sign language, embracing the chaos and the beauty of it all. There’s no roadmap, no perfect way to do it. Just me, my determination, my hands, and my slightly overworked brain. It’s messy, it’s weird, and it’s absolutely worth it. Here’s to learning, here’s to connection, and here’s to the glorious chaos that makes it all possible.