You ever have one of those weeks where time evaporates, laundry multiplies on its own, and your partner disappears for seven days like they’re on a side quest you definitely didn’t authorize? Yeah. That was my week. Which means today’s meal plan is brought to you by: Survival Mode But Make It Edible™.
This is a reserve-based, spoon-friendly, chronic-illness-approved, “I have three brain cells and two are fighting” kind of schedule. Six meals involve actual cooking (mostly crockpot because we respect our energy). The other nights? Reserves. Frozen. Pantry. Leftovers. Whatever doesn’t require you to stand upright for more than four minutes.
If that’s your vibe too, welcome home.
THIS WEEK’S MENU
Cooked Meals:
Tuesday Crockpot Salsa Chicken Bowls
Thursday Slow Cooker Garlic Herb Pork Roast + Potatoes
Sunday Crockpot Honey Teriyaki Chicken (No weird sauces, promise)
Tuesday Lemon Herb Chicken & Rice (No Creamy Stuff!)
Thursday Crockpot Tuscan Chicken & Potatoes (Light, Brothy Version)(Not creamy — just herbs, garlic, broth, and sunshine.)
Sunday Sheet Pan Italian Chicken & Veggies
Reserve Nights (1–2):
Frozen pizza, frozen enchiladas, freezer soup, freezer breakfast burritos, rotisserie chicken + bag salad… whatever you have in the stash.
And boom — another week fed, fueled, and officially handled, even if we handled it while lying horizontally with one sock on and exactly zero energy left. Reserve-based meal planning is basically the cheat code for spoonie life: cook when you can, stash when you can’t, survive the rest of the time on whatever doesn’t require opening the oven.
If you make any of these recipes, tell me which one your family inhaled first. Mine always pick the salsa chicken because apparently we’re a Taco Tuesday household… regardless of the actual day. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!
Let’s be honest: pain flares deserve their own tier list. Not all suffering is created equal. Some flares are just a polite tap on the shoulder and others feel like they’ve traveled across lifetimes to personally drag you into the void.
So in the spirit of scientific accuracy (and by scientific accuracy, I mean vibes), here’s the ultimate ranking:
1️⃣ The Tiny Gremlin Twinge — A Mild Nuisance
This one pops up like, “Hey girl, just checking in!” It’s annoying, but you can still function… mostly. You limp a little, grab a heating pad just in case, and pretend it’s fine. It’s never fine — but we lie to ourselves anyway.
2️⃣ The Low-Battery Huff — You’ll Feel This Tomorrow
Your body starts sending strongly worded emails. It’s not enough to stop you, but everything feels… heavier. Slow. Foggy. You start rationing spoons like you’re preparing for a winter on the Oregon Trail.
3️⃣ The Surprise Stab — The “Who Threw That?” Pain
Sudden. Sharp. Personal. Like your muscles decided to reenact a crime scene with no warning. You freeze, gasp, and immediately question every life decision that led you here.
4️⃣ The Weather Channel Special — Barometric Betrayal
You wake up and instantly know a storm is coming. Your joints creak like a haunted staircase. Your spine predicts humidity better than any meteorologist. Honestly, you deserve a salary for this accuracy.
5️⃣ The Sensory Riot — Everything Hurts and Also Everything Is Loud
Pain spike + fibro fog + sensory overload = a cursed smoothie. Clothes? Too much. Lights? Too bright. Air molecules? Too aggressive. You consider relocating to a dark, soft cave forever.
6️⃣ The “Cancel All Plans” Episode — Nope. Absolutely Not.
The flare that turns your day into a hostage situation. Suddenly every joint is negotiating its own peace treaty. Even sitting still is exhausting. Being alive? Optional.
7️⃣ The Full-Body Betrayal — Your Skeleton Has Filed for Divorce
It spreads. It radiates. It’s everywhere at once. Nothing helps. No position is comfortable. You do that weird slow shuffle walk that looks like your bones are taped in. Heating pads, meds, and prayers to whoever will listen.
8️⃣ The “Summon the Ancestors” Flare — You Have Exited This Plane
Oh, this one? You can feel your DNA screaming. Pain so intense it becomes almost spiritual. You’re like, “I see the veil… it’s thin… tell MawMaw I’m coming…” You contemplate your will, your life choices, and whether reincarnation offers better warranty coverage.
Final Thought
Pain flares are rude, unpredictable, and truly lack professionalism. But calling them out? Naming them? Ranking them like Pokémon? Sometimes that’s how we cope — with humor, honesty, and a little dramatic flair. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
Ah, December. The month where everyone else seems to be powered by peppermint and holiday magic… and I’m over here running on fumes, stubbornness, and one functioning spoon. Maybe two if I slept weird and accidentally charged myself.
But here’s the thing: December doesn’t have to eat us alive. We can enjoy the cute twinkle lights, the cozy vibes, the nostalgia — without sacrificing our last working nerve.
So here are my tried-and-true, spoonie-approved tips for making it through the season with your sanity (mostly) intact.
1. Lower the Bar. Then Lower It Again.
Holiday movies lied. No one needs matching pajamas, a handmade wreath, and a three-course dinner. Pick the bare minimum that still feels like joy — the rest can sit in the corner and think about what it’s done. Matching PJs? Nope, I get everyone a shirt and call it good.
2. Build Your “Nope List” Early
These are the things you’re not doing. Not even considering. Not even thinking about reconsidering.
Mine includes:
Wrapping gifts like a Pinterest mom
Baking anything that requires more than one bowl
Going to three events in one weekend (laughable)
Write it down. Honor it like a boundary carved in stone. I will NOT be guilted into something I physically am unable to do.
3. Embrace the Lazy-Girl Gift Strategy
If it can be ordered, mailed, or printed without me putting on real pants? It’s fair game.
Digital gifts, Etsy finds, consumables… honestly, the best gifts don’t come from a craft room meltdown. Pants arent really the enemy but shoes and a bra always seem to take more spoons than I have.
4. Schedule Recovery Time Like It’s a Medical Appointment
Events = exhaustion. Fun = exhaustion. Walking from the couch to the door to sign for a package = sometimes also exhaustion.
So plan buffer days around anything that drains you. No guilt.
Your energy is a budget — spend wisely. I try to not plan anything for the whole month of December because things come up.
5. Keep One “Emergency Joy” Thing Nearby
A candle. A smashbook. Your comfort show. A snack that makes you feel alive.
Something tiny that sparks joy when your spoon count hits “Windows XP crashing” mode.
6. Delegate Like a CEO on a Deadline
Kids can help. Partners can help. DoorDash exists for a reason.
Being a spoonie in December means becoming a master delegator with zero apologies.
7. Create a Bare-Minimum Holiday Tradition
One thing. Just one.
A movie you always watch. A hot cocoa night. A drive to see lights.
Consistency beats intensity every time. I’ve got little things I add each year, with trimming the tree (daughter does under my supervision.) We TRY and watch a movie with a holiday theme. Hot chocolate. Little things.
8. Let Go of the Ghost of December Past
Maybe old you did more. Maybe old you hosted dinners or ran around like a festive tornado.
New you deserves grace — not comparison. What sucks is there is ten years between middle and last child. I could do WAY more when the older two were prime Christmas ages! Theres not even a comparison.
9. Pick the Memories Over the Motion
If something makes a good memory but doesn’t drain you? That’s the sweet spot.
We’re not chasing “perfect.” We’re chasing “present.” There’s a lot of moments you can be ‘present’ for once you take shortcuts on the things that matter less.
10. Celebrate Your Way — Even If Your Way Is the Couch
Rest doesn’t make you less festive. Joy doesn’t require performance. You’re allowed to celebrate at the speed your body allows. Do things in advance to use when your spoons are empty, cook in bulk when you have everything out.
And honestly? That’s where the real peace of the season lives. December is not a test you have to pass. It’s a month — messy, beautiful, loud, overwhelming — that you get to shape in the way that works for you.
You deserve moments of joy that don’t cost you your health. You deserve ease. You deserve gentleness.
So here’s to a season that meets us where we are — not where the world tells us we “should” be.Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
Living with Chronic Illness is basically like living with a brain that’s trying its best… but also doing parkour off the furniture. Some days I’m thriving, some days I’m forgetting what I’m doing mid-sentence, and honestly? Most days I’m just negotiating with my own executive function like it’s a hostile coworker. So here’s a little peek behind the curtain: the things my brain treats like optional DLC.
1. Object permanence… most of the time. If I put it down and walk away, it may as well have been launched into another dimension. Keys, water bottles, important documents — all living their best lives in the ADHD void. Tell me its important, its the surefire way to get me to lose it.
2. Starting tasks? Easy. Finishing them? Bold of you to assume. I will begin a project with Olympic enthusiasm and then abandon it halfway like a Victorian ghost girl drifting out of a scene. Don’t believe me? My craft desk is currently auditioning for a documentary called ‘When Hobbies Attack.’ Pearls would be clutched. Fainting couches would be used.
3. Time? A concept. A myth. A prank. Ten minutes feels like an hour, an hour feels like twelve seconds, and deadlines feel like cosmic jokes written specifically for me. I need to get up, says my brain, the laundry should be done. Sure, its done, as is the day, the entire day slipped through my grasp like time itself saw me trying and said, ‘Aw, cute,’ before sprinting off.
4. Noise? Too much. Silence? Also too much. I am either overstimulated by the faint hum of the fridge or suddenly panicking because the quiet feels suspicious. There is no chill setting. I generally leave the tv on and use the mute button, sometimes I even remember to unmute or unpause (go me)
5. Hyperfocus that appears only for hobbies, never chores. Ask me to reorganize a shelf for fun? Instant productivity demon. Ask me to fold laundry? My brain blue screens. Meanwhile the laundry is over there quietly becoming part of the home’s structural integrity.
6. Forgetting why I opened a new tab mid-click. My fingers click “new tab” with confidence. My brain immediately abandons the mission. We will never know what the goal was. This is the thing I hate the most. Yesterday I was at hubby’s desk and he was saying something and I said ‘I’ll go look that up’ and I turned and FELT myself forgetting it, I hadnt made it to the door when I had to turn back around and apologized and asked him to repeat himself.
7. Needing a reward just to take a shower like it’s a game quest. “+10 XP for personal hygiene. New achievement unlocked: You Finally Did It.” Honestly, adulting would be easier if life came with a loot box. Honestly, the only thing getting me in that shower is the promise of pajamas immediately after. The shower helps most days its just the act of doing all the things is exhausting.
8. “I’ll do it in a minute” — famous last words. Because that “minute” might be five hours later… or three to five business days, depending on vibes and moon phases. And if a kid interrupts me? Congratulations, that task has now been postponed indefinitely.
Sure, my brain is a gremlin on roller skates, but honestly? I’m still waking up and doing my best every day. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
Some days, my brain feels like it’s buffering. I’ll stand in the kitchen with zero clue why I’m there, reread the same sentence five times, or forget my own train of thought mid-sentence. And then there are the days when my brain feels tired. Not fuzzy—just done. Like someone unplugged the power source and said, “Nope. We’re closed.”
People often lump brain fog and cognitive fatigue together, but they’re not the same beast. Brain fog is that hazy, disconnected, “can’t access the file” feeling. It’s common in chronic illness, ADHD, and even post-viral recovery because it’s tied to inflammation and disrupted neurotransmitter signaling—especially in areas like the prefrontal cortex, which handles planning and focus. (See research: Defining brain fog across medical conditions.) ScienceDirect+1
Cognitive fatigue, on the other hand, is your brain’s version of muscle fatigue. It happens when your mental resources are overused or depleted—like when you’ve been masking all day, juggling a thousand tasks, or fighting through sensory overload. Studies show that prolonged cognitive load triggers measurable changes in brain activity consistent with fatigue. BioMed Central+1
Cloudy with a chance of fog
The cruel joke? Many of us with chronic pain, ADHD, or trauma live in a state where both are happening at once. Inflammation clouds the signals (fog) while constant effort to function burns through what little energy reserves remain (fatigue). Add medication effects, sleep disruption, or stress hormones—and your poor nervous system is basically trying to run Windows 98 on low battery.
The next time you say “I can’t think today,” remember—it’s not laziness or lack of willpower. It’s biology doing its best under impossible conditions. Be kind to your brain. It’s been through a lot, and honestly, it deserves a nap and maybe a snack. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
Fall is for fuzzy socks, warm dinners, and absolutely not overcomplicating your grocery list. This round of my two-week reserve-based meal plan is all about cozy, comforting food that doesn’t require you to play kitchen martyr. We’re talking about meals that fill the house with that “mmm, someone’s cooking something amazing” smell — without requiring you to stand too long or juggle twelve pans.
Like always, the plan mixes a few cooked meals with reserve-based options — things you can pull together fast from your pantry or freezer when energy or spoons are running low. The goal: flexibility without frustration. You deserve to eat well, even on the days that don’t go as planned.
So grab your list, sip your coffee, and let’s make sure the next two weeks taste like comfort and sanity.
🥘 Cook Meals
Crockpot Chicken Pot Pie — Creamy, cozy, and low-effort. Add frozen veggies, shredded chicken, broth, and biscuit topping.
Sheet Pan Sausage & Potatoes — Chop, toss, roast. One pan, minimal cleanup, maximum yum.
Beef Tips with Gravy + Mashed Potatoes — Comfort classic. Slow simmer or use the crockpot if you want to make it even easier.
Tuscan Chicken with Spinach and Garlic Butter Rice — Quick skillet dinner that feels fancy without being fussy.
Loaded Baked Potato Night — Bake or microwave potatoes, then set out toppings like cheese, butter, and green onions for a build-your-own vibe.
Simple Spaghetti or Noodle Bowl Night — Customize with what you have on hand — sauce, veggies, or even leftover meat.
🥫 Reserve Meals
Breakfast for Dinner — Eggs, toast, or breakfast sandwiches. Always hits the spot.
Soup Starter Night — Toss frozen veggies, broth, and leftover meat or rice in a pot and call it done.
Wraps or Sandwich Night — Turkey, ham, or whatever deli meat is handy.
Ramen Remix — Doctor up instant ramen with egg, spinach, or leftover veggies.
Snack Board Dinner — Cheese, crackers, fruit, pickles, whatever looks good on a plate.
Emergency Frozen Meal — Whether it’s pizza, burritos, or something store-bought — no guilt, no dishes.
Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
There comes a point in every adult’s life where you stop chasing perfection and just start chasing peace. Mine came somewhere between my third “lost laundry sock” breakdown and realizing that meal planning for the week doesn’t make my brain any less chaotic.
So here are 10 things I’ve fully accepted I’ll never have together — and honestly, I’m fine with it.
1. My Sleep Schedule
Some nights I’m out cold by 9. Other nights, I’m rearranging my thoughts (and furniture) at 2 a.m. Balance? Never met her. My problems are in those wee hours of the morning but my issues are waking up no later than 4, even if I dont fall asleep til 3. Its maddening.
2. Laundry
There’s clean, there’s dirty, and there’s “on that chair I swear I’ll fold tomorrow.” Spoiler: tomorrow’s been rescheduled indefinitely.
3. My Phone Storage
I can delete exactly 400 screenshots and still have “not enough space.” I think the memes multiply when I’m not looking.
4. Matching Socks
At this point, I’m calling it fashion. If my socks are both clean, that’s a win.
5. My Inbox
Some people zero out their email every night. I zero out emotionally about my email every night.
6. That One Junk Drawer
It’s basically a time capsule for expired batteries and mystery cords from 2008.
7. My Brain’s Tabs
They’re all open. None of them are loading. I’ve accepted it’s just part of my operating system.
8. My To-Do List
For every item I cross off, three new ones appear like hydra heads. Productivity is a myth perpetuated by people with working serotonin.
9. My Diet
Sometimes it’s vegetables and lean protein. Sometimes it’s cold pizza and vibes. It’s called balance, baby.
10. The Idea of “Having It Together”
Turns out, nobody does. Some just accessorize their chaos better. So here’s to letting go, laughing at the mess, and knowing that imperfect is still enough.
11. My Posting Schedule
I love sharing my thoughts and connecting with my community — but some days, the mental energy just isn’t there. And that’s okay. Skipping a post doesn’t mean I’m lazy or unreliable; it means I’m human. listicles are just easier to do when your brain wont shut up enough to do any research or even just have the mental capacity for boring depressive stuff. I’m trying to keep it up beat and hold it all together. Sometimes “taking care of business” looks like closing the laptop, eating something carb-loaded, and giving my brain a breather.
💭 Final Thought:
You don’t have to fix everything to be doing okay. Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do is stop fighting the tide and just float for a bit.Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
He gives actual hugs. Not “cat-style affection.” Not a polite leg rub. I mean full-on, arms-around-my-neck, genuine hugs—every. single. day. It is adorable and sometimes the BEST part of my day.
He runs to me like I’m the main character. I can be in the middle of a meltdown or just opening a can of soda, and here he comes—flying in from another room like, “My human needs me!”
He’s got emotional radar. Somehow, he knows the difference between “I stubbed my toe” and “life is lifing too hard right now.” That’s when he turns on maximum purr mode.
Therapy sessions are 100% confidential. He’s heard every rant, every ugly cry, and not once has he told a soul. Best therapist I’ve ever had. Cheap too, works off lovies
He reminds me that love doesn’t have to be complicated. He doesn’t need words, money, or plans—just a lap, a snuggle, and maybe a treat afterward. (Boundaries are important.)
He’s the king of comfort. Heating pads? Overrated. Weighted blankets? Optional. Warm, vibrating cat on your shoulder? Perfect.
He makes me believe in the healing power of small moments. Every time he chooses me—out of the whole house—to snuggle, it feels like the universe reminding me that I’m worth comfort, too. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
Let’s talk about intuition. That little voice in your head that says, “Maybe don’t send that text,” or “You don’t actually need to reorganize your pantry at 2 a.m.” For people with Bipolar sometimes that voice gives conflicting advice
Mine’s been screaming for years, but I usually answer with, “Shh, I’m busy ignoring you while doing exactly what you told me not to.”
So, here’s a list of ten times I absolutely should’ve listened to my gut — and how my new pendulum board helps me keep my chaos at least moderately guided now.
1. When I Thought “One More Load of Laundry” Was Harmless
My back disagreed. My spoons evaporated. Should’ve trusted the gut that said, “Sit down, you maniac” and not got back up repeatedly.
2. When I Answered That Text From My Ex
Intuition: “Don’t.” Me: “Maybe he’s changed!” Spoiler: He had not.
3. When I Said “Sure, I Can Handle That Project”
What I meant was: “I will spiral into a stress coma and regret everything.” Not sure if thats any illness talking I think we all over promise sometimes, even to ourselves lol.
4. When I Ignored the Weird Rattle in My Car
Turns out the “ghost” was a very real, very expensive muffler issue. Of all the times my gut cost me, this was an EXTRA pricey one lol. Gut: 1. Me: $600.
5. When I Thought I Could Skip My Meds “Just for a Day”
LOL. Never again. My brain chemistry is not DIY-friendly. Most of them arent shy about telling me I forgot them either. Not just for a day, not even just for an afternoon lol.
6. When I Tried To Explain My Chronic Illness to a Facebook Comment Section
Intuition said log off. Ego said educate. Result: chaos and regret.
Lately, I’ve been using this pendulum board I made — not as some mystical fortune-teller thing, but as a quick way to ground myself. Watching it swing back and forth slows my thoughts down enough to actually hear what my gut’s saying.
7. When I Said “It’s Just a Little Pain”
…and three days later I’m Googling “can you die from ignoring your body?”
8. When I Thought “I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead” Was a Vibe
SO MANY people say this! Turns out it’s… not great health advice.
9. When I Ordered the Giant Craft Supply Haul “For Business Purposes”
I mean, it was technically business-related. Just… maybe not this month’s business. Maybe I wanted to not be rude, gotta get something for everybody!
10. When I Ignored My Gut About Taking a Break
(aka any time I have been up out of my chair for over 5 minutes)
Every time I push through instead of pausing, my body yells louder next time. Now I ask my pendulum, and if it swings toward “Sit down,” I listen. (Okay, fine, I try to listen.)
🌙 Moral of the Story: Trust Yourself, Babe.
Intuition isn’t mystical nonsense—it’s your nervous system whispering what it already knows. The pendulum just helps quiet the noise long enough for you to actually hear it.
If you want a gentle nudge toward trusting yourself again (or just something gorgeous and witchy for your nightstand), my new 3D-printed Pendulum Board Kit is going to be perfect for you. It includes:
A black + purple board engraved with intuitive answers
A matching pendulum
A mini guide for using it (with question prompts!) I can make custom ones with special colors. Coming to you in the next few days, keep an eye out for it
✨ Perfect for the overthinker who’s spiritually curious but still skeptical (hi, it’s me). Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and eachother!
So picture this: you’re minding your business, taking your meds like a responsible adult, when suddenly—boom. Pharmacy delay. Doctor out of town. Prior authorization “pending.” Ah the setback of psych meds. And your nervous system? It’s like, “Cool cool cool… let’s panic about everything now.”
Let’s be clear right out of the gate: This isn’t addiction. This is what happens when your body gets used to something your doctor prescribed, and then it disappears faster than your motivation on a Monday.
For people managing chronic pain, ADHD, bipolar disorder, fibromyalgia, anxiety—basically anything that makes life feel like juggling flaming swords—missing meds can wreck your whole week. Sometimes your whole month. It used to be pain meds were controlled, well I got off all them and then I find out one of my meds for my mental state is controlled too.
So here’s the practical, not-patronizing guide to surviving it.
🧠 1. Know What’s Happening — It’s Not “Just in Your Head”
Your body doesn’t care that you’re being responsible. It just knows chemistry changed. Withdrawal from meds like antidepressants, or mood stabilizers can cause:
Flu-like symptoms (the fever, chills, and “oh God, why” kind)
Dizziness or brain zaps
Stomach chaos (you know what I mean)
Anxiety that feels like being trapped in your own skin
Crying at car insurance commercials
You’re not crazy, dramatic, or weak. You’re literally detoxing from a medication your body depended on.
🩺 2. Call the Pharmacy and Doctor — Every. Single. Day.
Yes, it’s annoying. Yes, they hate it. Do it anyway. Sometimes the squeaky wheel really does get the refill.
Ask for:
A partial fill (even a few days’ worth helps)
Generic or alternative options
If your doctor can bridge it with samples or a similar med
If you can’t get through to your doctor, ask to speak to the nurse or pharmacist directly—they can often light a fire under the process faster than anyone else.
You can’t cure withdrawal, but you can soften the edges. Try:
Hydration like it’s your job. Electrolytes help your body flush junk out faster.
Protein and complex carbs. Blood sugar swings make symptoms worse.
Body temp tricks: cool showers for feverish restlessness, warm baths for muscle tension.
Magnesium and vitamin B supplements (if cleared by your doc).
Ginger tea or mints for nausea.
Noise + comfort TV. Distract your brain from itself. (“SVU’ or ‘Chicago’ shows is a favorite here.)
And yes, sleep whenever you can. Withdrawal can feel like a bad breakup between your brain and your body, and you’ll need rest to survive the drama.
🚨 4. Know When It’s Too Much
If your symptoms go beyond “ugh” and start looking like “dangerous,” it’s time to get help. Go to urgent care or call your doctor if you experience:
Suicidal thoughts
Chest pain
Severe confusion or disorientation
Tremors, seizures, or blood pressure spikes
No guilt, no hesitation. This isn’t weakness—it’s biology in meltdown mode.
💬 5. You’re Not a “Druggie.” You’re a Human Being.
Let’s kill that stigma right now. There’s a difference between dependency and addiction—one means your body adapted to a med, the other means there’s misuse or compulsion.
If you’re following your prescription and life implodes when you miss it, that’s not moral failure. That’s chemistry. And it deserves compassion, not judgment.
🌿 Bonus: What to Do Once You’re Back on Track
Ask about tapering. Even a few days’ gap can make restarting rough.
Set up refill reminders. Calendar, app, sticky note, carrier pigeon—whatever works.
Request overlap fills (some pharmacies will fill a few days early if you ask).
Stock an emergency buffer once you can, even if it’s just a few days’ worth.
And most importantly: forgive yourself for the mess that isn’t your fault. Medication management in modern healthcare is like playing whack-a-mole blindfolded. You’re doing great just by surviving it. Dependency is’nt addiction. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!
WannaBeNormal 