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🍗 Two-Week Reserve-Based Crockpot Menu: Chicken, Sausage & Beef Edition (Wk 27&28)

JoLeave a comment

Because ovens are rude and we deserve ease.

Let’s be real — chronic illness, neurodivergence, parenting, and general life chaos don’t care that dinner still has to happen.
So here’s a two-week, reserve-based crockpot plan that keeps you fed without a meltdown.

You’ll cook just three days a week (Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday) and still have enough food for reworks, leftovers, and “oops, I forgot to defrost something” days.

🐔 TUESDAY: Chicken Day

🥣 Salsa Crockpot Chicken

The OG lazy girl dinner. Don’t mess with perfection.

Ingredients

  • 2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts
  • 1 jar (16 oz) salsa
  • 1 packet taco seasoning
  • Optional: 1 cup frozen corn or a can of diced tomatoes (drained)

Instructions

  1. Dump it all in the crockpot.
  2. Cook on low 6–8 hours or high 3–4.
  3. Shred it up and mix before serving.

Serve With: Rice, tortillas, or potatoes.
Reserves: Use leftovers in quesadillas, nachos, rice bowls, or over pasta.

🍽️ Chicken & Veggie Bowls

Healthy-ish. Easy. Zero oven time. We love that for us.

Ingredients

  • 1 ½ lbs chicken (breasts or thighs), chunked
  • 1 bell pepper, sliced
  • 1 zucchini, sliced
  • ½ onion, sliced
  • 2 tbsp olive oil
  • 1 tsp Italian seasoning
  • Salt and pepper

Instructions

  1. Toss it all in the crockpot.
  2. Cook on low 5–6 hours or high 3–4.
  3. Stir before serving to coat everything evenly.

Serve With: Rice, quinoa, or in wraps.
Reserves: Toss leftovers into scrambled eggs or pasta for a second meal.

🌭 THURSDAY: Sausage Day

🍝 Sausage & Peppers Pasta

A classic one-pot wonder — but make it a slow cooker.

Ingredients

  • 1 lb smoked sausage, sliced
  • 1 onion, diced
  • 1 bell pepper, sliced
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 can (14 oz) diced tomatoes
  • 2 cups broth
  • 8 oz pasta (add later!)
  • Italian herbs, salt & pepper

Instructions

  1. Add everything except the pasta.
  2. Cook on low 5–6 hours or high 3–4.
  3. Stir in uncooked pasta 30–40 minutes before serving (add a splash of broth if needed).

Reserves: Bake leftovers with cheese or thin it out for soup.

🥔 Sausage, Potato & Pepper Hash

Like a diner breakfast but without having to move.

Ingredients

  • 1 lb smoked sausage, sliced
  • 1 ½ lbs potatoes, chopped
  • 1 bell pepper, chopped
  • ½ onion, chopped
  • 2 tbsp olive oil or butter
  • Garlic powder, paprika, salt, pepper

Instructions

  1. Grease crockpot lightly with oil or spray.
  2. Toss everything in and mix well.
  3. Cook on high 3–4 hours or low 6–7, stirring halfway through.

Serve With: Fried egg on top or a warm roll.
Reserves: Wrap leftovers in tortillas for breakfast burritos.

🥩 SUNDAY: Ground Beef Day

🌶️ Lazy Chili Mac (No Beans)

It’s comfort food that won’t fight your stomach.

Ingredients

  • 1 lb cooked ground beef
  • 3 cups beef broth
  • 1 (15 oz) can tomato sauce
  • 2 cups elbow noodles
  • 1 tsp chili powder
  • ½ tsp cumin
  • Salt & pepper

Instructions

  1. Add everything except noodles to the crockpot.
  2. Cook on low 4–5 hours.
  3. Stir in noodles 30 minutes before serving.

Reserves: Serve leftovers over baked potatoes or tortilla chips.

🍚 Beef & Rice Bowls

Your freezer meal hero.

Ingredients

  • 1 lb cooked ground beef
  • 1 ½ cups uncooked rice
  • 3 cups broth
  • ½ onion, chopped
  • 1 tsp garlic powder
  • Salt, pepper, paprika

Instructions

  1. Combine everything in the crockpot.
  2. Cook on low 4–5 hours or high 2–3.
  3. Fluff before serving.

Reserves: Wrap in lettuce or tortillas, or top with fried eggs.

That should last us into November, wow it flies by, til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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

JoLeave a comment

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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Why Spoonies Are the Best Problem-Solvers (It’s Science)

JoLeave a comment

Let’s talk about something we never get enough credit for: people with chronic illness are problem-solving ninjas.

And no, that’s not just me trying to make our daily struggle sound poetic — there’s actual science behind it.

While healthy folks go about their stable little lives with their cooperative bodies and reliable energy, we’re over here MacGyvering our way through every single day.

That constant adapting? It’s not just survival — it’s skill-building. Real, measurable, brain-changing skill-building.

🧠 The Science-y Bit

Research shows that adversity can actually boost creativity — making people more original, flexible, and engaged problem-solvers.

In plain English: hard stuff makes your brain weirdly good at solving other hard stuff.

So when you live with chronic illness, you’re basically getting a crash course in creative adaptation 24/7.

We’re not just surviving. We’re literally rewiring our brains to find new ways to function every single day.

💡 Spoonie Skill Set: Why We’d Crush Any Escape Room

1. Creative Constraint Management

Limited energy? Unpredictable symptoms? Welcome to our daily innovation lab.
Chronic illness is a masterclass in working under ridiculous constraints — and somehow making it work anyway.

2. Advanced Risk Assessment

Every activity is a cost-benefit analysis:
Shower or make dinner? Push through or rest now and avoid a three-day crash later?
That’s executive-level decision-making, my friend.

3. Reframing Like a Pro

Can’t work full-time? That’s not failure — that’s efficiency.
Need to cancel plans? That’s strategic rest.
We’ve had to reframe our entire lives, and that’s actually a top-tier cognitive skill.

4. Pattern Recognition on Steroids

Tracking symptoms, testing triggers, noticing connections? We’re basically data analysts in pajamas.
We notice what works, what doesn’t, and we constantly adapt.

🔁 Creativity + Resilience = Survival Superpower

Studies show creativity and resilience feed off each other — they grow together.

Spoonies don’t just “bounce back.” We reinvent how to exist in a world that wasn’t designed for us.

That kind of mental flexibility? It makes us great at:

  • Staying calm under chaos
  • Pivoting fast when plans fall apart
  • Finding new solutions when old ones fail
  • Surviving on 2 spoons and a half-decent snack

Basically, we’ve got the kind of mental agility CEOs put on résumés.

💼 Real-Life Problem-Solving Nobody Sees

  • Healthcare project management – coordinating meds, specialists, and insurance like a pro.
  • Energy economics – allocating resources like an overworked CFO.
  • Innovation on demand – finding new ways to cook, clean, and live when your body says “nope.”
  • Relationship navigation – balancing guilt, limits, and connection with Jedi-level emotional intelligence.

We do this every single day — quietly, constantly, expertly.

💬 Why It Matters

This isn’t toxic positivity. Chronic illness still sucks.
But recognizing the skills we’ve built? That’s validation, not sugarcoating.

✨ It crushes the “lazy” stereotype — our brains are working overtime.
🧩 It explains our exhaustion — cognitive heavy-lifting is still lifting.
💪 It proves we’re developing skills that translate everywhere — creativity, adaptability, resource management, resilience.

🧃 The Bottom Line

We’re not lazy.
We’re not fragile.
We’re elite-level problem-solvers operating under extreme conditions.

Our lives are one long masterclass in creativity, strategy, and resilience — and science says that makes us exceptional thinkers.

So the next time someone implies you’re “just resting,” remember: you’re actually performing high-level cognitive gymnastics 24/7.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to solve the complex equation of whether cereal counts as dinner.
(Spoiler alert: it does. That’s called strategic resource allocation.) Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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Taylor Swift Gets Us All: Even the Spoonie Ones

JoLeave a comment

From survival mode to regret, heartbreak to invisibly raging chaos, Taylor somehow finds the words for it all. These lyrics aren’t just clever turns of phrase — they’re mirrors for anyone struggling to be seen, understood, or simply to make it through another day. So the next time your body, brain, or emotions feel like they’re on fire, remember: Taylor’s got a line for that, and so do you. It’s not about whose pain is “worse” or more legitimate — it’s about being seen, validated, and reminded that even in the middle of your messiest moments, you’re still here, still trying, and still worthy of recognition.

“Balancin’ on breaking branches.” — Exile
Tell me you live with chronic illness, ADHD, or bipolar disorder without telling me. That line is the daily tightrope walk — trying to look stable while everything underneath you is creaking. You’re functioning, technically… but one more unexpected email, flare-up, or emotional storm and snap. It’s the exhausted kind of resilience that looks impressive from the outside but feels like survival from the inside.

“I’d go back in time and change it but I can’t.” — Back to December, Speak Now
Sometimes life leaves you with regrets that can’t be undone. Chronic illness, mental health episodes, or relationship missteps can haunt you, and all you can do is keep going forward while carrying those lessons with you.


“They told me all my cages were mental.” — This Is Me Trying, Folklore
Living with invisible illness or neurodivergence can make people question your experience. Taylor nails the frustration of having your struggles minimized or dismissed, even when you’re doing your absolute best to keep it together.

“Love slipped beyond your reaches.” — Champagne Problems, Folklore
For anyone navigating relationships while dealing with chronic pain, mental illness, or emotional turmoil, this lyric speaks to those moments when your best efforts simply aren’t enough — and you feel powerless watching connection slip away.

“Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?” — Right Where You Left Me, Folklore
That’s literally trauma in a sentence. Perfect for describing being stuck in survival mode long after the danger has passed.

“When I was drownin’, that’s when I could finally breathe.” — Clean, 1989
Leave it to Taylor to turn a mental breakdown into poetry. That line perfectly sums up what it feels like when you finally stop pretending you’re fine — when the exhaustion, pain, or chaos finally knocks you flat, and somehow, that’s when you start healing. It’s not weakness; it’s the breath you take after holding it for way too long.


“You made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter.” — Mine
Generational trauma wrapped in a love song. It’s breaking the patterns you were born into, learning love without fear, and realizing being “the careful daughter” was never the same as being safe.

“Why’d I have to break what I love so much.” — Afterglow
For anyone who’s accidentally hurt someone they care about — a child, partner, or even themselves. Chronic illness, emotional overwhelm, or mental health challenges can make us stumble in ways we never intended, and this lyric captures that ache of regret perfectly.

“The room is on fire, invisible smoke.” — The Archer
This is what living with chronic illness, PTSD, or anxiety can feel like. Everything in you is alight — panic, pain, exhaustion — but the world sees nothing. Your body aches, your brain races, your emotions combust… and everyone else is just like, “You seem fine.” It’s invisible chaos, and that’s the cruelest part: no one can help fight a fire they can’t see.

“I guess sometimes we all get some kind of haunted.” — Midnight Rain
The emotional equivalent of a PTSD flashback, chronic pain flare-up, or neurodivergent meltdown. It’s the moment when your past — trauma, illness, or just life — creeps up on you uninvited. It’s not about reliving the past; it’s about acknowledging that it still lingers.

“I miss who I used to be.” — Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve
When life steals pieces of you. Chronic illness, mental health struggles, or trauma can leave you staring at the mirror wondering if you’ll ever recognize yourself again. Taylor nails the quiet heartbreak of missing the “you” that existed before pain, betrayal, or illness started rewriting your story.

“How much sad did you think I had in me?” — So Long, London
Nails the emotional extremes of bipolar or just being completely maxed out emotionally. That mix of exhaustion, overwhelm, and “I’m still standing, barely” is instantly relatable to anyone with intense mood swings or chronic emotional strain.

“I can go anywhere I want — just not home.” — Exile
The heartbreak of estrangement in one line. You build a life, you heal, but that door you once knew as “home” doesn’t open anymore. It’s grief with no funeral, just echoes.

    From survival mode to heartbreak, estrangement to invisible chaos, Taylor somehow finds the words for it all. Each lyric shows us we’re not alone in our experiences, that even invisible struggles — chronic illness, mental health battles, neurodivergence, estrangement — are valid and worthy of recognition. So the next time your body, brain, or emotions feel like they’re on fire, remember: Taylor’s got a line for that, and so do you. It’s not a contest about whose pain is “worse.” It’s about being seen, being validated, and acknowledging that even in the middle of your messiest moments, you’re still here, still trying, and still worthy of recognition.

    Til next time, gang: take care of yourselves, and of each other.

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    The Body That Never Stands Down: Living With PTSD and Constant Hypervigilance

    JoLeave a comment

    PTSD isn’t one-size-fits-all, and it definitely isn’t one-story-fits-all. Some people develop it after combat. Others after a car crash, a hospital stay, a toxic relationship, or years of just surviving things that weren’t survivable.
    The point is — the body doesn’t know why it’s scared. It only knows that something hurt it, and now it refuses to let its guard down again.

    And for a lot of us? That means living in a constant state of alert — hypervigilance.

    When the Body Becomes the Alarm System

    Hypervigilance isn’t about being “paranoid” or “dramatic.” It’s what happens when your brain gets stuck in survival mode. People with PTSD often show increased activation of the amygdala and insula (the brain’s threat detectors), and reduced regulation from the prefrontal cortex (the part that manages logic and fear control). https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9682920

    This creates a brain more prone to automatic threat response and less able to override it.Over time, your body forgets what calm even feels like. It treats peace like a setup.

    You start scanning for the next problem, the next crisis, the next disappointment — because deep down, your body doesn’t believe it’s safe unless it’s braced for impact.

    What That Does to the Mind

    Living that way rewires your thinking.

    • You might second-guess every decision, waiting for the fallout. You’re never wrong if you argue both sides of the problem.
    • You may feel detached or foggy — a kind of emotional autopilot. Fibrofog is bad enough but a bad brain day on top of it means no one is getting anything done today lol.
    • Focus gets harder because your brain is too busy running background security checks on your environment. You spend so much time doing your background checks you miss all the good things.
    • Even joy feels suspicious, like the quiet before a storm. Waiting for the other shoe to drop is a terrible way to go through life because you have no time to dwell on the good.

    Over time, it’s exhausting. Not just “I need a nap” tired, but that bone-deep exhaustion that comes from being on guard 24/7.

    What That Does to the Body

    Hypervigilance isn’t just mental — it’s physical.
    When your nervous system keeps sounding the alarm, your body floods with stress hormones like adrenaline and cortisol. That’s great if you’re outrunning a tiger, not so great if you’re just trying to grocery shop.

    It can lead to:

    • Muscle tension (especially in your neck, shoulders, and jaw)
    • The body doesn’t heal well under constant fight-or-flight — it’s too busy defending.
    • Headaches and chronic pain Studies show that people with hypervigilance scan their surroundings more, fixate more broadly on ambiguous scenes, and show enlarged pupil responses even when no actual threat is present https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4211931
    • Stomach issues or IBS
    • Insomnia or restless sleep In PTSD, sleep architecture often gets altered: more light sleep, fragmented REM (dream) sleep, and difficulty getting into deep, restorative sleep https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9682920
    • Fatigue that doesn’t go away even after rest Also, individuals with PTSD have been shown to keep a higher resting heart rate even while sleeping — signifying that the body never fully “turns off.”
    • Long-term hypervigilance is associated with physical health risks: elevated blood pressure, inflammation, and cardiovascular stress. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7263347

    Your body ends up running a marathon it never trained for, with no finish line in sight.

    Important Note

    This is not about comparing kinds of trauma. PTSD is real whether it came from a battlefield, a hospital bed, a car crash, or a childhood that never felt safe. The source may differ — but the physiology of trauma is remarkably similar. If your nervous system is stuck in fight-or-flight, it deserves care, not comparison.

    How to Calm the Body That Won’t Relax

    You can’t logic your way out of hypervigilance — trust me, we’ve all tried. The goal isn’t to “calm down,” it’s to teach your body that safety is possible again.

    Some small but powerful ways to start:

    • Name it when it’s happening. “I’m safe right now, but my body doesn’t believe it.” It sounds simple, but naming it gives your brain a choice other than panic.
    • Release one muscle group. Shoulders, jaw, stomach — anywhere you’re braced. I try and take a shower because my whole body locks up tight.
    • Temperature reset. Cool water on your wrists or neck, or a cold drink, can nudge your nervous system out of fight-or-flight. I’ve started putting a cool cloth on my neck, if that helps some but I’m still plagued with thoughts I need a break from I’ve started sticking my feet in warm water
    • Ground through your senses. Notice what you can see, hear, touch, or smell right now. It pulls your brain back to the present. Name all the things you can.
    • Predictable rituals. Same mug every morning, same playlist before bed — consistency tells your body, “this is safe, this is familiar.”
    • Gentle movement. Rocking, stretching, or walking helps process the adrenaline your body keeps making. (My movement of choice is rocking, often thats how hubby and monkey know when I am stressed a lot of time I dont realize I’m doing it. Sometimes I start to rock but whatever my pain is stops me)

    Healing doesn’t happen in one “aha” moment — it happens in these small, repeated acts of safety. Over time, they teach your body it doesn’t have to live like the worst thing is always about to happen.

    Final Thought

    If you recognize yourself in this — you’re not weak, dramatic, or broken. You’re someone whose body learned to survive. And now you’re teaching it to live. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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    Two-Week Spoonie Menu: The “We Survived the Plague” Edition Week 25 & 26

    JoLeave a comment

    We got hit hard this round — hubby brought home some sort of mutant cold that ran through the house like a toddler through a toy aisle. Everyone took turns coughing, whining, and refusing soup (because of course). The good news: we’re on the mend, and I’m finally feeling ready to cook again… in moderation.

    So, this week’s menu leans heavy on reserves, comfort, and low-effort dinners that still taste like you tried. Three cook days (Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday) with flexible leftovers and built-in sanity savers. Nothing fancy, just survival-mode delicious.

    Week 25

    Sunday – Crockpot Salsa Chicken

    • Cooking Method: Crockpot
    • Ingredients:
      • 2 lbs chicken breasts
      • 1 jar (16 oz) salsa
      • 1 tsp cumin
      • 1 tsp chili powder
      • Salt & pepper to taste
    • Directions:
      1. Place chicken in crockpot, pour salsa over it, sprinkle with spices.
      2. Cook on LOW for 6–7 hours or HIGH for 3–4 hours.
      3. Shred chicken and serve over rice, in tortillas, or with a salad.

    Monday – Reserve Meal

    • Leftover salsa chicken over rice or salad.

    Tuesday – Crockpot Italian Chicken & Veggies

    • Cooking Method: Crockpot
    • Ingredients:
      • 2 lbs chicken thighs
      • 1 cup baby carrots
      • 1 cup potatoes, diced
      • 1 cup zucchini, sliced
      • 1 tsp Italian seasoning
      • Salt & pepper to taste
    • Directions:
      1. Place chicken and veggies in crockpot.
      2. Sprinkle with Italian seasoning and a little salt & pepper.
      3. Cook LOW 6–7 hours or HIGH 3–4 hours.

    Wednesday – Reserve Meal

    • Leftovers from Tuesday; can toss with pasta or eat as-is.

    Thursday – Sheet Pan Sausage & Veggies (not crockpot)

    • Ingredients:
      • 1 lb sausage (turkey or chicken)
      • 1 red bell pepper, sliced
      • 1 zucchini, sliced
      • 1 cup baby potatoes, halved
      • Olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic powder
    • Directions:
      1. Toss all ingredients with olive oil and seasonings.
      2. Roast at 400°F (205°C) for 25–30 minutes, turning once.

    Friday – Reserve Meal

    • Leftovers from Thursday.

    Saturday – Reserve Meal

    • Quick scramble, salad, or grain + protein from reserves.

    Week 26

    Sunday – Salsa Chicken (repeat, make extra for Monday)

    Monday – Reserve Meal

    • Leftover salsa chicken.

    Tuesday – Crockpot Teriyaki Chicken & Rice

    • Ingredients:
      • 2 lbs chicken thighs
      • 1/2 cup teriyaki sauce
      • 1 cup broccoli florets
      • 1 cup carrots, sliced
    • Directions:
      1. Place chicken in crockpot, pour sauce over.
      2. Cook LOW 6–7 hours or HIGH 3–4 hours.
      3. Add veggies in last 30 minutes of cooking.
      4. Serve with rice.

    Wednesday – Reserve Meal

    • Leftovers from Tuesday.

    Thursday – Crockpot Creamy (Light) Chicken & Mushrooms (dairy-light)

    • Ingredients:
      • 2 lbs chicken breasts
      • 1 cup mushrooms, sliced
      • 1/2 cup chicken broth
      • 1 tsp garlic powder
      • Salt & pepper
    • Directions:
      1. Place chicken and mushrooms in crockpot, pour broth over.
      2. Season with garlic powder, salt, pepper.
      3. Cook LOW 6–7 hours or HIGH 3–4 hours.

    Friday – Reserve Meal

    • Leftovers from Thursday.

    Saturday – Reserve Meal

    • Quick grain + protein + veggie, or scrambled eggs + toast + veggies.

    Reserves / Backup Meals Ideas

    These are quick, simple, and interchangeable for non-cooking days:

    • Rotisserie chicken + microwavable veggies
    • Pre-cooked frozen grains (rice, quinoa) + frozen veggies + protein
    • Eggs scrambled or hard-boiled + toast + fruit
    • Canned tuna or chicken salad (without mayo)
    • Salad kits with added beans, eggs, or cooked meat

    recipes
    Groceries
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    The Unofficial Chronic Illness Starter Pack: 13 Things We All Somehow End Up Owning

    JoLeave a comment

    There’s no “welcome packet” when you join the chronic illness club. No orientation video, no handbook, not even a “sorry your body betrayed you” cupcake. But give it a year or two, and like clockwork, you’ll somehow accumulate the exact same stuff as every other chronically ill human alive.

    It doesn’t matter what your diagnosis is — autoimmune, neurological, connective tissue chaos, or “we still don’t know but it’s definitely something.” You’ll still end up with this exact lineup. Consider it the unofficial starter pack for a life you didn’t sign up for.

    1. The Heating Pad That’s Basically a Limb Now

    Not a heating pad. The heating pad. The emotional-support heating device that never leaves your side. The one that smells a little… “well-loved.” The one that goes on vacation with you, because without it, you might as well just stay home and cry.

    Bonus points if you own more than one: couch pad, bed pad, travel pad. If there’s an outlet nearby, there’s probably a heating pad plugged into it.

    2. The Pill Organizer That Screams “Elder Millennial in Crisis”

    Remember when you thought pill organizers were for your grandma? That’s adorable. Now you’ve got the jumbo one with four compartments per day and color-coded sections that could rival a NASA launch sequence.

    You’ve upgraded at least twice. You’ve probably dropped it at least once and watched your entire week scatter across the floor like medical confetti.

    3. The Hydration Graveyard

    “You need to drink more water!” they said. So you bought every water bottle known to humankind. The motivational one with time stamps. The $40 one that promised to change your life. The one with a straw that always smells faintly weird.

    And yet… you’re still dehydrated. But at least your shelf looks like an REI display.

    4. Compression Socks That Deserve Their Own Fashion Line

    When you first bought them, you swore they were temporary. Now you’ve got rainbow stripes, polka dots, and ones that match your pajamas.

    Nothing like someone complimenting your “cute socks” while you’re over here preventing blood from pooling in your legs like a human Capri Sun.

    5. Meds You’re 70% Sure You Still Need

    Your medicine cabinet looks like a CVS threw up. Some prescriptions you take daily, some “just in case,” and others that you can’t remember why you still have but you’re too scared to stop taking.

    At least once a week you’re googling, “can I take this one with food or nah?”

    6. The Sacred Comfort Outfit

    Elastic waistband. Zero zippers. Fabric so soft it might disintegrate soon but you’ll die before you part with it.

    You own duplicates because when you find something that doesn’t make your body angry, you commit.

    7. The Ice Pack Army

    The freezer is 80% ice packs and 20% actual food. There are gel ones, flexible ones, and the infamous bag of peas that’s been there since the Obama administration.

    Visitors open your freezer and immediately regret asking questions.

    8. Pillows. So Many Pillows.

    You’ve got regular pillows, wedge pillows, knee pillows, body pillows, and that expensive orthopedic one you swear doesn’t help but you’re too stubborn to admit it.

    Your bed looks like a cloud exploded. Your couch looks like a pillow fort designed by an overachiever.

    9. Your Personal Medical Archive

    You could open a small clinic with your paperwork. Test results, specialist notes, insurance denials, and that one referral you might need someday.

    Because if you don’t keep copies, you’ll end up explaining your entire medical history from scratch at every appointment anyway.

    10. The Blanket Multiverse

    Weighted blanket. Heated blanket. Soft blanket. “Don’t touch me” blanket. “Only this texture doesn’t make me rage” blanket.

    You’ve reached a point where you can’t sit anywhere without instinctively grabbing one. It’s fine. It’s cozy. You’ve accepted it.

    11. Snacks on Standby

    Every bag, drawer, and vehicle has a snack stash. Protein bars, nuts, crackers, and that one emergency granola bar that’s probably older than your pet but still good in a pinch.

    Low blood sugar waits for no one.

    12. The Endless Notebook Collection

    Symptom logs, med trackers, food diaries, mood charts, appointment notes. Every notebook started with good intentions and ended three pages in.

    You’ve also tried every app known to mankind, but somehow keep coming back to paper and pen.

    13. A Dark, Sparkly Sense of Humor

    You can’t buy this one, but it’s essential. If you can’t laugh at your heating pad dependency and your pharmacy-sized pill case, you’ll lose your mind.

    Because crying hurts your head, and honestly, we’re low on spoons for that today.

    The Unspoken Truth

    If you’re reading this while sitting on your heating pad, wrapped in a blanket, surrounded by snacks and water bottles you forgot to refill — congrats, you’re one of us now.

    The chronic illness starter pack isn’t sold anywhere. You build it piece by piece, fueled by trial, error, and desperate 2 a.m. Amazon searches.

    We didn’t choose this starter pack. But we’re making it work — one heating pad session, one sarcastic laugh, one survival day at a time. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

    Uncategorized

    When You Can’t Tell If It’s a Flare or a Flashback (And Why That’s Terrifying)

    JoLeave a comment

    Your heart’s doing the cha-cha at 130 beats per minute. Your chest tightens. The world tilts. Your hands shake. Your brain starts whispering, “Hey, are we dying or just freaking out again?”

    Is it POTS? A panic attack? A flashback to that one time your body really did betray you?
    You’ve got about thirty seconds to figure it out before the anxiety of not knowing makes everything worse.

    Welcome to the impossible diagnostic puzzle that is living with chronic illness and PTSD from medical trauma.

    When Your Body Is Both the Scene of the Crime and the Witness

    People with chronic illnesses are statistically more likely to develop PTSD-like symptoms—but the kicker is, it’s not from a one-time event. It’s because your body is an ongoing threat to your own sense of safety.

    Unlike classic PTSD, where the trauma is technically in the past, medical PTSD means the trauma could literally happen again.
    When you live with something like POTS, EDS, or MCAS, your body is both the suspect and the alarm system. The hypervigilance isn’t paranoia—it’s pattern recognition. You’ve learned that symptoms can mean something is seriously wrong.

    But here’s the nightmare twist: those same symptoms—heart racing, shaking, dizziness—are also identical to a panic attack.

    The Overlap That Makes You Want to Scream Into a Pillow

    Let’s play a fun game called “Spot the Difference” between POTS and panic attacks:

    POTS Symptoms:

    • Rapid heart rate (120+ bpm)
    • Dizziness or lightheadedness
    • Shortness of breath
    • Chest tightness
    • Trembling, sweating, nausea
    • Feeling like you might pass out

    Panic Attack Symptoms:

    • Rapid heart rate
    • Dizziness or lightheadedness
    • Shortness of breath
    • Chest tightness
    • Trembling, sweating, nausea
    • Feeling like you might pass out

    Yeah. Exactly the same.

    So you sit there, pulse pounding, trying to decide if you need electrolytes or grounding exercises. And the longer you try to figure it out, the more anxious you get. Which—you guessed it—makes your heart race even more.

    Congratulations, you’ve just triggered both conditions at once.

    The “Is It My Body or My Brain?” Spiral

    1. Heart rate spikes.
    2. You think, “Is this POTS or panic?”
    3. The uncertainty feeds the anxiety.
    4. Anxiety makes your heart rate climb higher.
    5. PTSD brain jumps in like, “Hey, remember the last time this happened?”
    6. Your body floods with stress hormones.
    7. Symptoms worsen, clarity vanishes, and you’re stuck in a full-body loop of chaos.

    Sometimes grounding doesn’t work. Sometimes standing makes it worse. Sometimes everything makes it worse. The mental gymnastics of self-triage would exhaust an Olympic athlete, and that’s before you even factor in the fatigue that both conditions bring.

    When Hypervigilance Isn’t a “Coping Issue”

    In classic PTSD, hypervigilance—constantly scanning for danger—is something therapy tries to reduce.
    But when you live with a chronic condition that can cause fainting, cardiac issues, or anaphylaxis, that vigilance might literally save your life.

    So how do you tell your brain to “calm down, you’re safe” when sometimes… you actually aren’t?

    This is the impossible bind of trauma plus illness:
    PTSD therapy says, stop monitoring every sensation.
    Your medical team says, monitor every sensation.
    Neither is wrong. Neither fully works.

    The Medical Gaslighting Cherry on Top

    And just to make it more fun: when you do seek help, you get hit with the “it’s just anxiety” script.

    Even though POTS isn’t caused by anxiety, and even though research shows anxiety rates are about the same as the general population, you’ll still have doctors waving off your physical symptoms because your chart says PTSD.

    You start to lose faith in professionals. You stop asking for help. You learn to rely only on yourself for triage—because nobody else seems capable of telling the difference either.

    Which means you’re back to square one, again, sitting in the impossible space of trying to figure it out alone.

    The Treatment Contradiction

    PTSD therapy often involves exposure work—facing the thing that scares you until your brain chills out about it.
    Except in this case, the “thing that scares you” is your own body.

    You can’t just take a break from having a body. You can’t “gradually reintroduce” the experience of dizziness or tachycardia when those things are daily realities that might require medical intervention.

    Worse, some PTSD therapies intentionally raise your heart rate to help you practice staying calm through physical sensations. That’s great… unless you have POTS, where that heart rate spike might actually make you faint.

    So you end up in a no-win situation where treating one condition can trigger the other.

    What Actually Helps (Sometimes)

    There’s no perfect fix here. But there are ways to soften the edges:

    💡 Look for patterns, not moments. Track triggers over time. Are symptoms linked to posture, temperature, dehydration, or specific memories? Zooming out can help reduce panic in the moment.

    💡 Build a “both/and” plan. Sit down? Yes (helps POTS). Ground yourself? Yes (helps panic). You don’t have to guess which one it is to respond with compassion instead of chaos.

    💡 Find trauma-informed doctors. You need providers who understand that your nervous system and your medical symptoms aren’t separate universes.

    💡 Accept uncertainty. Sometimes you just won’t know—and that’s not failure. That’s reality.

    💡 Validate yourself. You’re not dramatic. You’re not broken. You’re reacting appropriately to a wildly confusing body situation that most people can’t imagine.

    The Unspoken Truth

    Living with medical PTSD and chronic illness means constantly trying to interpret a body that lies to you and tells the truth at the same time.

    It means your hypervigilance is both too much and not enough.
    It means your body is both the warning sign and the danger.

    You’re not failing to cope—you’re surviving something that isn’t designed to make sense.

    And honestly? That’s nothing short of heroic.

    Til next time, gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

    🧠 Research Toolbox

    • American Psychological Association. Medical trauma and PTSD in patients with chronic illness (2020).
    • Raj, S. R. (2022). Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS): Pathophysiology, Diagnosis, and Management. Cleveland Clinic Journal of Medicine.
    • Löwe, B. et al. (2021). Trauma, PTSD, and chronic illn
    Uncategorized

    7 Conversations I’ve Had With Myself This Week

    Jo1 Comment

    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.]

    Uncategorized

    7 Weird Life Skills Chronic Illness Gave Me

    JoLeave a comment

    Chronic illness is the world’s most aggressive “skills training program.” Except instead of a certificate and a raise, you get brain fog, pain, and an ongoing relationship with your heating pad. Still, I’ve picked up some unique skills along the way—stuff I never knew I’d need but now couldn’t live without.

    1. Mastering the Art of Fake Smiling

    I could win Olympic gold for pretending I’m fine while my joints are staging a coup. Do I want to collapse in a heap? Yes. Am I going to grin like I just won a cruise? Also yes.

    2. Human Calculator for Spoonie Math

    “Can I shower and cook dinner today, or is that too ambitious?” I can do the math faster than you can open your planner. Spoiler: the answer is usually “nope.”

    3. Expert in Improvised Heat Therapy

    Rice sock? Check. Heating pad? Check. Sitting on my kid’s warm laundry fresh out of the dryer because I can’t wait for relief? Double check. Pro tip, heat rises, I sleep ON not UNDER an electric blanket it has made a world of difference.

    4. Planning for Chaos Like a Pro

    You know how event planners can handle weddings with 200 guests? Try managing your day when you don’t know if you’ll wake up with a migraine, a hip flare, or zero energy. I don’t plan weddings. I plan for chaos.

    5. Napping Anywhere, Anytime

    Airports, doctor’s waiting rooms, my car in the school pickup line—I have the gift of nap. If there was a frequent napper punch card, I’d have earned a free mattress by now.

    6. Doctor Jargon Translator

    I can translate “mild discomfort” into “you won’t walk tomorrow” and “we’ll keep an eye on it” into “we have no idea what’s wrong.” Basically, I’m bilingual.

    7. Black-Belt Level Boundary Setting

    When you’ve got limited spoons, you learn real quick how to say, “No, I can’t go to your cousin’s friend’s birthday barbecue three towns over.” Honestly, it’s a superpower.

    ✨ Chronic illness may have wrecked my body, but hey—it gave me some weird little life skills along the way. Your turn: what weird skill has chronic illness forced you to master? Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.