(aka “This Is Not a Cry for Help, But Also… Send Snacks?”)
“Why does my hip make that sound?” Its not so much a pop as it is a crackle, I feel like the Rice Crispies guys are hiding somewhere.
“How to explain sarcasm to a teenager who is now more sarcastic than me” It took forever for her to ‘get it’ (she’d say, is that sarcasm? every time we laugh at a joke) now she is almost more sarcastic than me. Almost lol.
“Can I survive on toaster waffles and spite?” No? Coca cola and contempt? Those are my wheelhouse.
“What does executive dysfunction look like in adults asking for a friend (it’s me)” Pretty sure I dissociated so hard I time-traveled. I came to around dinner like, wait… where did the day go?
“Symptoms of burnout vs laziness vs demonic possession” Spoiler: It was burnout. But let’s be honest, if a demon was possessing me, they’d at least fold the laundry
“How to nicely ask your teen to shower without being emotionally attacked” “I tried ‘Would you like a shower now or in 10 minutes?’ and still got hit with the emotional equivalent of a boss battle I didn’t consent to
“How long is too long to wait for meds to kick in before giving up on the day?” Asking for science. But also for vibes. Because the vibes are off and so is my serotonin.
“How to turn rage-cleaning into a workout” If slamming laundry baskets and scrubbing with vengeance burned calories, I’d be shredded by now.
“Can fidget toys fix my life or is that false advertising?” Look, they may not fix it — but they do keep me from sending That Text™ or scream-cleaning my kitchen.
“Is it normal to cry over spilled resin?” Normal? No clue. But between the cost, the smell, and the emotional spiral? Yeah. Very on brand.
Living with chronic illness, ADHD, and a teenager is like being the main character in a sitcom written by the universe when it was feeling particularly chaotic. But hey — at least I’m not boring.
BRB, googling if emotional support waffles are a thing. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
Featuring Chicken, Hamburger, and a Whole Lot of “Please Let Dinner Just Be Easy”
Welcome back to another episode of “I’m Too Tired to Cook, But These People Keep Needing to Eat.” This round of Survival & Sanity is brought to you by the dynamic duo of chicken and ground beef — because they’re flexible, affordable, and they don’t give me trust issues like fish or cream-based recipes do.
We’re cooking three times a week — Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays — and letting the rest ride on leftovers, reserves, or strategic snack dinners that we refuse to feel guilty about.
🍽️ Week 13 Meals
Sunday – Garlic Butter Chicken
Crockpot comfort food that tastes like effort without requiring any. Serve with mashed potatoes or rice and veg if you’re feeling fancy (or frozen corn if you’re not). Reserve it: Shred the leftovers for flatbreads or quesadillas.
Tuesday – Cheeseburger Sloppy Joes
Grown-up nostalgia on a bun. Messy? Yes. Worth it? Also yes. Add chips or frozen fries, call it a meal. Reserve it: Leftovers go great in a wrap or on top of fries for dirty burger bowls.
Thursday – Chicken Tacos
Taco seasoning + shredded chicken = foolproof dinner win. Let everyone build their own. Reserve it: Use leftovers for taco salads, nachos, or rice bowls. The remix potential is strong.
🍽️ Week 14 Meals
Sunday – BBQ Chicken Sandwiches
Set it and forget it in the crockpot. Toast the buns if you’re feeling extra. Add pickles. Eat in silence. Reserve it: Flatbreads, baby. BBQ chicken + cheese = chef’s kiss lazy meal.
Tuesday – Spaghetti with Meat Sauce
A spoonie classic: boil water, dump sauce, survive another day. Serve with garlic bread if the stars align. Reserve it: Freeze the sauce for later or build a baked ziti-style dish next week.
Thursday – Pesto Chicken Flatbreads or Wraps
Pesto + chicken + cheese, served on whatever bread-like thing you have nearby. Flatbreads, wraps, naan — we don’t discriminate. Reserve it: Goes over rice, into a salad, or right into your face cold from the fridge. No wrong answers.
That’s it — six cooked meals, one crisis averted, and a freezer that doesn’t hate you. You’ve got flavor. You’ve got flexibility. And you’ve got enough leftover chicken to feel both mildly accomplished and fully exhausted.
Let me know what worked, what flopped, and what you screamed into the void while cooking it. I’ll be here with your Week 15–16 plan before you know it. Til Next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.🖤
When pain, boredom, and executive dysfunction unite—you get resin, rage, and a whole lot of accidental glitter.
I didn’t set out to become a craft goblin. I wasn’t summoned under a full moon or handed a glue gun by a mysterious old crone—though honestly, that would’ve been cooler. What actually happened? Chronic illness, ADHD, and mental health issues tag-teamed me into a corner, and I crawled out with glitter in my hair, UV resin on my shirt, and a 3D printer whirring in the background like some kind of mechanical emotional support animal.
🧠 Brain fog + body pain = weird creativity cocktail
Being chronically ill is basically like living in hard mode with no save points. There are days where just getting out of bed feels like climbing Everest. And when your body taps out, but your brain still insists on doing something, you get creative—weirdly creative.
One day I woke up and thought, “What if I poured sparkly goo into molds to feel better?” Then, “What if I started designing stuff to go in the goo?” Next thing I know, I’m elbows deep in fidget toy sketches and debating the opacity of rose gold filament.
Not because I’m trying to get rich. Not because I want to be Etsy famous. Because it helps me feel like a person again.
🧙♀️ Crafting is my magic—just with more swearing
There’s something weirdly powerful about turning pain into something tangible. Making trays and fidgets and little resin reminders isn’t just “cute” or “fun.” It’s my therapy when therapy isn’t enough. It’s my way of saying “I’m still here” even when my body’s out of spoons and my brain’s rerouting itself through a foggy mess of dopamine starvation.
And yes, sometimes I cry while sanding something or curse at my printer like it personally betrayed me. That’s part of the ritual.
🛠️ My cauldron just happens to be full of UV resin and PLA
There’s a stereotype that chronically ill folks just sit around watching Netflix and napping. (Okay, sometimes we do that too—rest is radical, y’all.) But a lot of us are brimming with creativity, we just needed the right outlet—and in my case, that outlet prints in layers and smells faintly of molten plastic.
Now I blend 3D printing and resin pouring into something like art, something like therapy, something like survival. I make trays that say things like “Grounded Spirit” and “Wildflower” because those are the things I need to remember. I make fidgets that spin and snap and soothe because my nervous system is a feral toddler with no nap schedule.
And when people actually buy those things? When they tell me it helped them feel a little more seen, a little more held? That’s the part that feels like real magic.
🧷 Not an ad, but here’s the cauldron shop if you want to peek
If you’re curious about what resilience looks like in resin, I’ve got a little Etsy shop full of snark, softness, and sensory-friendly goodies. I call them my “Spoonie Shenanigans,” and no two are ever quite alike—kind of like us. https://joknowscreations.etsy.com Til next time gang take care of yourselves, and each other.
Let’s just get one thing out of the way: when we say we’re tired, we don’t mean “I could use a nap” tired. We mean, “it feels like my bones are made of lead and I’m dragging them through emotional quicksand” tired. Welcome to chronic illness fatigue — where the real game is not getting things done, but feeling guilty about the things we couldn’t do.
Invisible Illness Fatigue: A Sneaky Beast
When you live with something like fibromyalgia, ADHD, or bipolar disorder (or the full trifecta, if you’re really winning like I am), fatigue doesn’t show up like it does after a long day. It’s not solved with sleep. It’s a permanent roommate that throws a tantrum when you so much as think about productivity.
We don’t just skip tasks. We skip tasks, then feel like a failure for skipping them, then try to explain why, then realize we’re exhausted from the explaining. And even when people say they understand, there’s that unspoken “but everyone’s tired” hanging in the air. Sure, Karen, but not everyone needs to lie down after a shower.
The Gaslight of the Medical Maze
Now let’s sprinkle in a bit of medical neglect for flavor. According to the National Council for Mental Wellbeing, it takes an average of 48 days to get an appointment with a behavioral health provider in the U.S. — and that’s after you’ve made contact. Because what’s chronic illness without fighting the very system meant to help us? I spent this week trying to schedule a psych appointment for my teenager. I called seventeen times. Seventeen. Not metaphorically. SEVENTEEN. I left messages. I waited. I got bounced from voicemail to nowhere. Their voicemail message says ‘someone will get back to you within 24 hrs.’ Never not once called. Cold, Hard Reality Check: According to the National Council for Mental Wellbeing, the average wait time for behavioral health services in the U.S. is a staggering 48 days. That’s nearly seven weeks of waiting in limbo—waiting for care that should come sooner.
And when I finally got through — a moment of hard-earned triumph — I did what any burnt-out, panic-caffeinated, mom-on-the-edge might do: I scheduled it first available for the one day I absolutely can’t do it. Face palm? No. Face ground. But the idea of calling again, of pushing through the labyrinth of dead-end prompts and receptionist roulette? I physically can’t do it. I’ll move my own mountain that day instead.
This is what they don’t see. The victories that come covered in emotional tax. The way we beat ourselves up over accidents because we’re so used to feeling like we’re failing. Even our wins taste like stress.
The Never-Ending Ask for Help (That Goes Nowhere)
Everyone tells you to ask for help. But they don’t tell you what to do when that help turns out to be a ghost. Or a voicemail. Or an email that never gets answered. Or a friend who says, “Let me know if you need anything” but quietly disappears when you say, “Actually, I do.”
When you do speak up, you risk being labeled as dramatic or dependent. When you don’t, you’re “not taking care of yourself.” It’s a rigged game. The buck never stops. It just circles the drain while we’re clinging to the rim.
And yes, it gets to us. All the time. We internalize it. We feel like a burden. Like we have to keep apologizing for being sick. Like if we were just stronger, more organized, less emotional, less needy… we could pull off the impossible. You can gaslight yourself into silence before a single word leaves your mouth.
So Why Share This?
Because I know I’m not the only one. And if you’ve been spiraling, crying in between productivity guilt sessions, or clenching your teeth while listening to elevator hold music for the fifth time this week — you’re not alone.
This isn’t a cry for pity. It’s a call for reality. Let’s be honest about what it really feels like to be chronically ill, overwhelmed, and stuck inside a system that expects perfect performance from broken parts.
Let’s remind each other that doing our best sometimes looks like barely functioning — and that’s still valid. Let’s talk about how asking for help shouldn’t feel like rolling a boulder uphill.
Let’s be soft with ourselves.
You are not failing. You are carrying more than most people even know exists. And you’re still here, still trying. That’s resilience. That’s strength. That’s you. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!
So your brain is playing musical chairs, your body feels like a poorly-updated weather app, and you’re trying not to scream into the void. Welcome to Tuesday.
Let’s talk grounding. No, not like punishment (though if my body had a curfew, it’d definitely be in trouble. Or WAIT, better yet what if I could ground myself? I have had a bit of an attitude lately lol). I mean the kind of grounding that keeps your head tethered to Earth when the world starts to spin—literally or metaphorically.
These tricks aren’t cures. They’re sanity-saving, meltdown-preventing hacks from a fibro-fueled, ADHD-spicy, anxiety-sparked brain that’s been there. A lot.
1. 5-4-3-2-1 Technique Engage all your senses:
5 things you can see
4 things you can touch
3 things you can hear
2 things you can smell
1 thing you can taste (coffee counts. So does chocolate.)
*This works great when your brain is running full-speed in five directions and not one of them is “calm.”
2. Cold Water, Meet Overheated Brain Grab a frozen veggie bag, cold can of soda, or run cold water over your wrists.
It’s a little jolt to your system that says: Hey, still alive. Chill out (literally).
3. Root Down (With or Without a Tree) Press your feet into the ground. Feel the floor. Imagine roots growing into the Earth. Bonus if you’re outside and can touch actual grass—unless you’re allergic. Then, uh… maybe stick to carpet.
4. Texture Check Have a fidget, squish, or tactile object you like the feel of? Use it.
I include a small sensory item with every tray I sell because I know how hard it is to find something that doesn’t scream “kid toy” but still gets the job done.
5. Pick a Word, Repeat It Like a Mantra Mine is “magic” today. Because even in the chaos, there’s some weird alchemy that happens when you survive anyway. Choose yours.
Speaking of grounding (see what I did there?), I made a tray that says “Grounded Spirit” because some days I need that reminder sitting right next to me—especially when my brain wants to float away and my pain wants to knock me down.
But this post isn’t about the tray.
It’s about remembering that you deserve tools that help you stay rooted when everything feels like it’s spinning.
Try one, try them all. Add your own. Tape them to your fridge. And if you fall apart a little later? That doesn’t mean you failed. It means you’re trying.
And that’s more than enough today. Do you have any tips others could benefit from? I’m always looking for new ways to ground myself, email me at wannabenormal@gmail.com or contact me through the contact form. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
PS. Because Apparently I’m Not the First Genius to Try Grounding
Look, I’d love to say I invented these grounding techniques while dramatically staring into the void, but some actual professionals with degrees and peer-reviewed studies beat me to it. If you want to nerd out—or just need proof to show your skeptical co-worker—here’s where the science lives:
SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration) Trauma-informed care guidelines include grounding as a legit tool for managing anxiety and dissociation. 👉 samhsa.gov
Anxiety Canada: 5-4-3-2-1 Grounding This popular CBT/DBT trick is clinically recognized for calming panic and reorienting during sensory overload. 👉 anxietycanada.com/articles/grounding-techniques
National Library of Medicine Peer-reviewed proof that sensory-based grounding techniques actually help regulate stress and pain. 👉 ncbi.nlm.nih.gov
If Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest, why does it feel like a suspense thriller called “What Fresh Hell Will Monday Bring?”
Quick bulleted list to get you ready for Monday:
Locate your bra. Or make peace with not wearing one. Honestly, if it doesn’t bring me joy, it’s not making the cut today.
Stare at your meds and pretend you’re not already tired of managing this circus. The greatest show on Earth is mostly side effects and co-pays.
Do exactly none of the things you swore you’d prep this weekend. I meant to meal prep, but I accidentally disassociated for 24 hours. Like a whole day just gone!
Question if you actually rested, or if you just laid still while panicking quietly. There’s a difference between rest and being emotionally paralyzed. I did the second one.
Mentally prepare to act like a human when your body screams “nope.” The performance is called “Functioning Adult” and I deserve an Oscar.
Tell yourself this week you will go to bed on time (you liar). Sure, keep spewing those filthy lies until one day it happens on accident lol
Wonder if it’s too late to run away and become a moss-covered tree sprite. Honestly? Forest Wi-Fi sounds more stable than my mental health.
Make a meal plan that may or may not involve cereal and vibes. Nutritional value: questionable. Emotional support: unmatched.
You made it to Sunday. That’s already a win. Monday can wait its damn turn. Til next time gang, we got this! Take care of yourselves, and each other!
Reserve-Based Meal Planning for When Life is Too Damn Much
It’s hot. You’re tired. The idea of cooking three meals a day is laughable. That’s why this plan exists — to give you food that actually works when your spoons are low and your executive function has left the chat.
This is Weeks 11–12 of my reserve-based system. We cook three times a week, stretch leftovers like magic, and leave room for takeout without guilt. Because healing takes energy — and not all of that energy should be spent in the kitchen.
🍗 This Round’s Sunday Stars:
Week 1: Maple Garlic Glazed Chicken
Week 2: Crockpot Ranch Chicken & Rice
(because if my crockpot could earn a paycheck, it would absolutely be the breadwinner)
🗓️ THE PLAN:
WEEK 1
Sunday: Maple Garlic Glazed Chicken – Proof that you can be sweet and salty and still wildly lovable.
Monday: Leftovers
Tuesday: Chicken Tacos (fajita-style) – Because “chicken tacos” are easier to say than “accidentally delicious fajitas.”
Wednesday: Leftovers
Thursday: Bacon Tomato Pasta – The holy trinity: bacon, tomatoes, and carbs. Amen.
Friday: Reserves
Saturday: Leftovers or takeout
WEEK 2
Sunday: Crockpot Ranch Chicken and Rice – This one says “I care” but also “I’ve been horizontal most of the day.”
Thursday: Bacon Fried Rice – It’s “clean out the fridge” night but with a glow-up.
Friday: Reserves
Saturday: Leftovers or takeout
🧊 Reserve Meals to Keep You Sane:
Taco Pizzas
Chicken Flatbreads
Peanut Butter & Bacon Sandwiches
Eggs
Quesadillas with Whatever’s Left I am BRAND NEW to bacon quesadillas, where have they been all my life? I’m disappointed in myself that my stoner ass didnt put this combo together years ago. Ok guys, scroll down and click to get the recipes and grocery list and until next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
You’d think pain would be more predictable. Cold = bad, right? Well yes… and no. Because in summer, when the air pressure plays trampoline, humidity tries to choke you out, and thunderstorms sneak up like mood-swing ninjas, your fibromyalgia goes, “Yay! A chance to be more dramatic!”
Your body doesn’t just hurt — it panics, it protests, and it often completely forgets how to function like a semi-sentient adult human.
⚡Why Weather Screws Us Up (Even in Summer)
Barometric Pressure is a Jerk. When pressure drops fast (hello, pre-storm), tissues expand. Nerves already oversensitive in fibro-land get even more irritable. It’s like your whole body got a weather alert and decided to throw a tantrum. The research is mixed—effects vary, and for some folks may be subtle. But that doesn’t make your flare-up any less real.
Humidity and Heat Mess with Everything.
Heat dilates blood vessels → more fatigue, dizziness, swelling.
Humidity slows evaporation of sweat → overheating faster.
Add in pain? You’re basically a melted candle with opinions.
Storms Make the Air Feel Heavy. Your head hurts, your joints ache, and standing up feels like moving through soup. The pressure swings during storms are sneaky saboteurs.
Your Nervous System is Already Confused. Fibromyalgia is a central sensitization disorder. Your brain and nerves are like over-caffeinated chihuahuas — already jumpy, now add atmospheric chaos? It’s not great, Bob.
What Can You Actually Do About It?
💧1. Hydrate Like It’s Your Job.
Barometric shifts and heat can mess with circulation and fluid retention. Water helps regulate your internal temp and reduces dizziness and fatigue.
❄️2. Cooling Tools Are Your Friends.
Cooling towels
Ice packs on pulse points
Fans in every room
Spray bottle with peppermint water (YES, seriously)
🧘♀️3. Stretch and Move, Gently.
Movement keeps things from stiffening up worse, but go slow. A few light yoga poses, shoulder rolls, or just pacing your hallway counts. You’re not prepping for the Olympics — you’re surviving a weather system.
🛋️4. Pace Like a Pro.
Your energy is a budget. Don’t overspend it just because the sun’s out. Schedule breaks. Cancel plans. Use that “no” like SPF for your soul.
🌀5. Watch the Weather. Plan Ahead.
There are apps just for barometric pressure (like Migraine Buddy or WeatherX). When you see a dip coming, prep your nest: meds ready, chores done ahead, comfy clothes out.
You Are Not Broken — You Are Barometrically Betrayed
So no, it’s not “just in your head.” The weather does affect your fibro. You are not imagining it. And just because you don’t see storm clouds doesn’t mean your body isn’t screaming “WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”
But you’re learning, adjusting, and finding ways to soften the crash. That’s strength — not weakness. Til next time guys, take care of yourselves, and each other.
Let’s be honest: if forgetting what you were saying mid-thought was an Olympic sport, I’d have gold medals in every category. Freestyle Rambling. Synchronized Brain Fog. And my personal favorite: Disappearing Train of Thought With a Triple Mental Backflip.
People say “don’t be so hard on yourself,” and I’m like—buddy, I’m not. I’m just trying to remember what I came into this room for. And repeatedly. I’m not being ‘so hard’ on myself, I’d say I’m at least the appropriate level of hardness if not under lol
Somewhere between ADHD, fibromyalgia fog, bipolar whiplash, and a few hundred browser tabs in my brain, my inner monologue starts to sound like a dial-up modem trying to load a YouTube video. In 2003. On satellite internet. In a thunderstorm. A mile and a half down a country dirt road where theres NOTHING for miles
🧠 Exhibit A: “What Was I Saying?”
It’s not even a joke anymore. I’ll be mid-conversation, completely coherent, and suddenly—boom. Blank screen. I can literally see the words running off a cliff like cartoon lemmings.
“Wait—what was I saying?”
No really. What was I saying? I know its annoying to you, do you know how annoying it is and how much I absolutely hate the part of my brain thats supposed to remember things? Me and my brain are in an absolute love/hate relationship and we are definitely in our Hate each other era.
🤯 Fibro Fog: Not Just a Myth, Unfortunately
If you’ve never tried to function while your entire nervous system is on delay like it’s waiting for subtitles, congratulations—you’re not me. Fibro fog isn’t just forgetfulness. It’s walking into a room and standing there like you’re the main character in a slow-motion scene… except no one yelled “Action,” and you definitely missed your cue.
My body hurts, my thoughts hurt, my hair hurts, and occasionally my elbow forgets how to be an elbow. But hey, at least I still remember none of my passwords!
🎢 Bipolar Bonus: Now With Extra Whiplash!
Imagine being hyperfocused on color-coding your sock drawer one minute, then sobbing because your spoon fell on the floor the next. Now toss in some guilt about not replying to texts from 2017, and you’ve got the Bipolar Expansion Pack.
Highs that make you reorganize your pantry at 2 a.m., lows that make brushing your hair feel like a heroic feat. All while your memory plays musical chairs.
💁♀️ So What’s the Point?
The point is: if you’re out here trying your best with a glitchy brain, a misfiring mood system, and a body that acts like it was coded in beta—you’re not alone. You’re in deeply relatable, exhausted, beautifully chaotic company.
Some days I cry over spilled plans. Some days I laugh at my own internal commentary. And most days, I absolutely forget what I was saying.
But I’m still here. Still making stuff. Still showing up. Even if it’s ten minutes late and I forgot to put on pants. Til next time guys, take care of yourselves, and each other.
Look, I’ve learned a lot on this magical, chaotic, sometimes-on-fire journey called mental health. Some of it has been helpful. Some of it has been… character-building. And some of it? Honestly? I’d like to return. No receipt. No questions asked.
So here they are: the Extremely Official, Totally Relatable truths I’ve collected while navigating ADHD, bipolar disorder, fibromyalgia, and the delightful rollercoaster of chronic illness and healing. May they make you laugh, cry-laugh, or at least feel seen.
1. Hyperfocus Is Basically Time Travel, but for Grown-Ups with Deadlines
You sit down to answer one email and suddenly it’s 3:47 AM, you’ve organized your entire digital photo archive by vibe, and your actual to-do list is untouched. Ask me how I ended up rearranging pintrest pins instead of posting this post I’d already writtenlol.
2. Fibro Fog Is Just Nature’s Way of Saying ‘You Didn’t Need That Thought Anyway’
What was I saying? Seriously though — memory glitches, word loss, and that feeling of trying to think through molasses? Welcome to chronic illness. The word loss alone is going to end up hospitalizing me lol I swear nothing aggravates me as much as forgetting a work I can SEE in my head!
3. Manic Cleaning Sprees Are Not the Same as Stability
Sure, the baseboards are spotless, but also I haven’t eaten in 14 hours and I’m crying because I accidentally broke a plastic fork. Balanced, right?
4. My Thermostat Is Broken and So Am I
One minute I’m freezing, the next I’m sweating like I ran a marathon in a snowsuit. Is it ADHD? Bipolar? Perimenopause? Chronic illness roulette? Who knows. All I know is that my house is 70 degrees and I am 100% not okay.
5. “Self-Care” Can Feel Like a Full-Time Job I’m Bad At
Some days self-care is a bubble bath and deep breathing. Other days it’s canceling everything, laying facedown, and rage-scrolling memes until I feel slightly less like a soggy tissue.
6. Rest Guilt Is Real
If I lie down, I feel guilty. If I don’t lie down, my body throws a full tantrum. Either way, I lose — and my couch wins.
7. “You Seem Fine” Is the Greatest Lie Ever Told
I’ve smiled through panic attacks. I’ve small-talked while dissociating. I’ve joked my way through days that felt like molasses dipped in dread. Trust me — looking fine is a survival tactic, not a wellness update.
8. Executive Dysfunction Is Not Laziness. I’d LOVE to Do the Thing. I Just… Can’t.
Making a phone call, doing the dishes, starting a task — sometimes it feels like standing at the bottom of a mountain with no ropes, no snacks, and brain fog rolling in fast.
9. Chronic Illness and Mental Health Issues Rarely RSVP — They Just Show Up and Rearrange the Furniture
Plans? Canceled. Energy? Randomized. And trying to explain why today’s “bad” looks totally different than yesterday’s? Exhausting.
10. Humor Isn’t a Coping Mechanism. It’s a Survival Skill.
If you can’t laugh at this mess, you’ll drown in it. So yes, I make sarcastic jokes, weird art, and trays that say things like “mentally chill” or “still here, still weird.” Because some days, that little spark of laughter is what gets me through — and maybe it’ll help someone else, too.
🎁 P.S. Wanna Carry This Energy Home?
If you made it this far, you’re clearly my people. I make handmade trays, keychains, and small gifts designed for overwhelmed brains, messy moods, and healing hearts. https://www.etsy.com/shop/JoknowsCreations Come browse the chaos collection — snark included at no extra cost. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
Cold, Hard Reality Check:
Quick bulleted list to get you ready for Monday:
WannaBeNormal 