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8 Times My Mental Health Made Me a Genius — and 3 Times It Made Me a Dumpster Fire

Some days, I swear my brain is a chaotic supercomputer running on caffeine and trauma responses. It’s exhausting. It’s unpredictable. And occasionally, it’s brilliant.

So let’s give credit where it’s due — because sometimes mental illness hands you a superpower… and sometimes it hands you a Molotov cocktail.


🧠 The Genius Moments

1. Hyperfocus: AKA My Accidental Superpower
When my brain decides something is interesting, I turn into a NASA-level researcher on a Red Bull IV. I can build a business plan, reorganize my entire digital life, and deep-dive through 42 tabs of psychology articles before breakfast. I might forget to eat, but I will emerge knowing the mating habits of penguins if it’s remotely relevant.


2. Emotional Intelligence on God Mode
Years of overanalyzing every tone and micro-expression have made me a human lie detector with empathy upgrades. I can walk into a room and feel the vibe like a weather forecaster for emotions. It’s exhausting but occasionally makes me the person everyone calls when they need comfort or brutal honesty — whichever comes first.


3. Creative Problem Solving: The Chaos Alchemy
Give me a problem and 15 minutes of unfiltered panic, and I’ll have three off-the-wall solutions that actually work. Spoonies and neurodivergent folks don’t just “think outside the box.” We’ve set the box on fire, repurposed the ashes, and turned it into an Etsy product.


4. The Art of Masking (AKA Professional Acting)
Sure, it’s born from survival, but let’s be honest — I’ve basically earned an honorary degree in emotional theater. I can hold it together in public, then immediately turn into a crying burrito when I get home. Oscar-worthy.


5. Intuition That Borders on Witchcraft
When you live in constant hypervigilance, your brain notices everything. Energy shifts. Tone changes. The fact that Karen at the store is not okay. Sometimes it’s anxiety, sure — but sometimes it’s eerily accurate intuition. I’m not saying I’m psychic, but…


6. The Research Rabbit Hole™
I’ve “accidentally” learned the DSM-5 like it’s bedtime reading. If I love something, I deep dive — no casual interests here. Just full-blown expertise in ADHD coping strategies, trauma theory, and which weighted blanket won’t suffocate me.


7. Empathy = My Super Serum
Pain teaches compassion. Chronic illness teaches perspective. Together, they make you someone who can meet others where they are, not where you wish they were. That’s no small thing.


8. Resilience Built from Pure Stubbornness
You ever meet someone who survived their own brain on hard mode? Yeah — we don’t quit easily. We rest, cry, reboot, and come back with snacks and spreadsheets.


🔥 The Dumpster Fire Moments

1. Overwhelm Level: Existential Crisis
Sometimes, everything is just too much. The noise, the people, the to-do list — all of it. My brain freezes like an overloaded computer and suddenly, I’m watching TikToks instead of doing basic human tasks like “laundry” or “feeding self.”


2. The ‘Fun’ Side of Mania or Hyperfixation
Oh, you wanted balance? Sorry, my brain just ordered $120 of craft supplies for a project I’ll finish never. I’ve also rewritten the same paragraph 14 times because it’s 3 a.m. and I’m possessed by perfectionism.


3. Memory? Think Again
There are entire days that vanish like deleted browser history. Did I take my meds? Did I text back? Why is there coffee in the microwave from yesterday? No one knows.


The Takeaway

We’re walking contradictions — brilliant and burned out, wise and impulsive, compassionate and chaotic. But you know what? We still show up. Every single day, we rebuild from the ashes our brains set on fire.

And that? That’s not a flaw. That’s art. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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7 Conversations I’ve Had With Myself This Week

Look, I talk to myself. A lot. And not in the cute “oh, I’m just thinking out loud” way that neurotypical people do. I’m talking full-blown conversations, complete with tone changes, arguments, and occasionally losing said arguments to myself. If you have ADHD, chronic illness, or just a generally chaotic brain, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Here are seven actual conversations I’ve had with myself this week. I’m not proud of most of them, but I’m also not surprised by any of them.

1. The Medication Negotiation

Me at 8 AM: “Okay, time to take your pills.”

Also me: “But do I really NEED them today? I feel fine.”

Me: “You feel fine BECAUSE of the pills, you absolute potato.”

Also me: “But what if I’ve been healed by positive thinking and I don’t need them anymore?”

Me: “We’ve been through this. Take the damn pills.”

Also me: “Fine, but I’m not happy about it.”

[Takes pills]

Me, two hours later when brain fog hits: “Why didn’t I take my pills on time?”

Also me: “…We literally just had this conversation.”

2. The Food Decision Paralysis

Me, standing in kitchen: “I should eat something.”

Also me: “Agreed. What do we want?”

Me: “I don’t know, what sounds good?”

Also me: “Nothing sounds good.”

Me: “Okay, what do we HAVE?”

Also me: “Everything and nothing.”

Me: “That’s not helpful.”

Also me: “Neither is staring into the fridge like it’s going to solve our problems.”

Me: “What if we just eat cereal again?”

Also me: “We had cereal for dinner last night.”

Me: “Your point?”

[Grabs bowl]

3. The Task Initiation Battle

Me: “I need to start that thing.”

Also me: “Which thing?”

Me: “You know, THE thing. The important thing.”

Also me: “Oh right. When are we doing that?”

Me: “Now. We’re doing it now.”

Also me: “But first, let me just check my phone real quick.”

Me: “NO. We’re not doing this.”

Also me: “Just one quick scroll.”

Me: “It’s never one quick scroll and you know it.”

Also me: “But what if someone texted us?”

Me: “They didn’t.”

Also me: “But what if they did and it’s urgent?”

Me: “FINE. Five minutes.”

[Three hours later]

Me: “We never started the thing, did we?”

Also me: “…In our defense, we learned a lot about seahorse reproduction.”

4. The Sleep Schedule Delusion

Me at 9 PM: “We should go to bed.”

Also me: “But I’m not tired.”

Me: “We’re never tired at bedtime. That’s literally our thing.”

Also me: “What if tonight is different?”

Me: “It’s not. Go to bed.”

Also me: “But what if I just scroll for a bit and THEN go to bed?”

Me: “That has literally never worked.”

Also me: “There’s a first time for everything.”

[At 2 AM]

Me: “I hate us.”

Also me: “Same.”

5. The Executive Function Check-In

Me: “Have we showered today?”

Also me: “…Define ‘today.'”

Me: “The current 24-hour period.”

Also me: “Then no.”

Me: “What about yesterday?”

Also me: “I plead the fifth.”

Me: “We need to shower.”

Also me: “That sounds like a lot of steps.”

Me: “It’s literally just standing in water.”

Also me: “Yeah, but first we have to DECIDE to shower, then remember to shower, then actually GET IN the shower, then remember what order the shower things go in…”

Me: “Okay I see your point.”

Also me: “Plus we’d have to find a clean towel.”

Me: “Never mind. We’ll shower tomorrow.”

Also me: “Bold of you to assume tomorrow will be any different.”

6. The Pain Scale Debate

Me: “Ow.”

Also me: “What’s the pain level?”

Me: “I don’t know, like a 6?”

Also me: “Is it though? Remember that time we thought 7 was bad and then we had that 9?”

Me: “Good point. Maybe it’s a 5.”

Also me: “But if it’s a 5, should we take pain meds?”

Me: “I don’t know, what if it gets worse and we already used up our meds?”

Also me: “But what if we DON’T take meds and it gets worse anyway?”

Me: “What if we just suffer through it and prove we’re tough?”

Also me: “That sounds like internalized ableism.”

Me: “You’re right. Okay, taking meds.”

Also me: “Wait, did we already take meds today?”

Me: “…I don’t remember.”

Also me: “Cool, cool. This is fine. Everything is fine.”

7. The Bedtime Existential Crisis

Me at 1 AM: “Why are we like this?”

Also me: “Like what?”

Me: “You know… LIKE THIS. The chaos. The forgetting. The talking to ourselves at 1 AM.”

Also me: “It’s not our fault our brain is wired differently.”

Me: “I know, but sometimes I wish we were just… normal.”

Also me: “Normal people are boring.”

Me: “Normal people remember to pay bills on time.”

Also me: “Okay, fair point.”

Me: “Normal people don’t have to negotiate with themselves about basic tasks.”

Also me: “But would we really want to be normal if it meant losing our creativity? Our hyperfocus superpowers? Our ability to make connections nobody else sees?”

Me: “…Are you just trying to make us feel better?”

Also me: “Is it working?”

Me: “A little.”

Also me: “Then yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Me: “We should probably go to sleep.”

Also me: “Agreed. Right after we Google one quick thing.”

Me: “We both know that’s a lie.”

Also me: “And yet here we are.”


The Conclusion I Didn’t Ask For

The truth is, talking to myself has become such a normal part of my life that I forget other people don’t do this. Or at least, they don’t do it out loud. Or with multiple distinct personalities arguing about whether cereal counts as dinner.

But here’s the thing: these internal (and sometimes external) conversations are how my brain processes things. It’s how I work through decisions, remember tasks, and occasionally talk myself into doing basic human functions like showering and eating vegetables.

Is it weird? Absolutely. Is it exhausting? You have no idea. Would I change it if I could?

Ask me again after I’ve had some sleep. And by sleep, I mean after I finish this one last Google search about whether other people have full conversations with themselves or if I should be concerned. Til next time gang, take care of yourself, and each other.

[Spoiler alert: I Googled it. It’s apparently normal. We’re fine. Probably.]

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Sunday Scaries, Spoonie Style: A Checklist for Surviving Monday Without Crying (Much)

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!