(Or: Things I’ve Learned the Hard Way and Now Pass Off as Wisdom)
1️⃣ If you open the dishwasher to “just add one thing,” congratulations. You now live here. Ownership transfers upon entry. If you can’t fill it, go check your room. I know you dont eat in there as a general rule but go look and see if the random missing spoon is hanging out with the stray socks in their hideout.
2️⃣ “We’ll deal with it later” is a valid strategy until further notice. No one said when later is. Legally, you’re covered. Until 5 pm when all the things you were going to do catch up and your teenager is asking why something isnt done to their exacting standards.
3️⃣ Matching socks are a social construct. As are bedtimes, sanity, and tidy junk drawers. For socks, maybe track some other missing stuff (like the spoon from before), I swear theres a Narnia or hiding dimension.
4️⃣ No one has ever truly recovered from stepping on a rogue Lego. We carry these wounds in silence. And orthopedic inserts. My kitty in the sky Bonkers used to sleep on them, a full bucket without the lid, weirdo. Miss you little dude but thanks for sending me Fryday who amuses me endlessly, but I still miss you!
5️⃣ If you set something down ‘just for a second,’ it’s gone forever. Gone to the shadow realm. Gone where keys and pens go to die. See narnia, also with socks and spoons. And the tupperware lids vs tupperware ratio is always uneven so I blame them too.
6️⃣ Your brain will retain the lyrics to a 1997 boy band hit but not why you walked into the room. Priorities. We don’t make the rules. Its tearing up my heart that you don’t ‘remember the time’ you walked into a room and left with exactly what you walked in there for but honestly ‘bye bye bye’ to that dream because honestly we’re ‘never gonna get it no never gonna get it’
7️⃣ Snacks are sacred. Do not touch another’s designated snack without first drafting a formal agreement and receiving notarized consent. I think it sucks so much worse when you crave a texture and have no food with that texture available. Like I hate it when I bring home fresh baked goods because I can only eat one every few days or I forget its there. I MIGHT get one. Vultures.
8️⃣ If the ADHD person in your house starts cleaning, DO NOT INTERRUPT. You’re witnessing a natural phenomenon rarer than a solar eclipse. Often whats good is pulling up a rag and joining them, not that you need to do any of the cleaning, they’ll do it but they will do it alot faster if you join them.
9️⃣ We don’t do ‘normal’ here. We tried. It was exhausting. Weird is cheaper and fits better. I have discussed this at length, I know the name is deceiving because I love being weird and don’t want any part of me normal lol. There was a time I did strive to an impossibly high level too. That me burned herself out a decade ago.
🔟 The motto remains: Lower the bar, keep the vibe. Survival with style. That’s the goal. Often its just survival.
Closing Thought:
Some houses run on routine, others run on vibes and caffeine. Guess which one we are. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!
Welcome back to another two weeks of me pretending I’ve got it together. I do not in fact, have ANYTHING together and this week has taxed my brain so much I am ready to not have to make the dinner decisions for a few more weeks. Does this work for you guys? I have found I am spending less on groceries. (Thanks for the tips about my low spoon days btw!) This is how I keep myself from crying into a crumpled DoorDash receipt: six planned dinners that don’t require Michelin star skills, plus reserve meals to fill in the gaps when I’m too tired, too sore, or too done with everyone’s nonsense to cook.
Here’s what I’ve got for you: A 2-week plan. Six home-cooked meals. Eight “reserve” meals pulled from pantry, freezer, or leftovers. A printable grocery list. Recipes that don’t require you to pretend you’re a Food Network star.
Because some days you’re Julia Child. Some days you’re just a tired gremlin trying to survive until bedtime.
The Lineup: What We’re Cooking
Cook Days (3-4x per week)
These are meals you’ll actually make with fresh-ish ingredients and some degree of effort.
1️⃣ Slow Cooker Italian Beef Sandwiches
Juicy chuck roast, spicy giardiniera, hoagie rolls. Perfect for people who forgot to plan dinner but did remember how to dump things into a crockpot.
2️⃣ Honey Garlic Chicken Thighs (Stovetop)
Savory-sweet chicken served with rice and frozen stir-fry veggies. Quick. Easy. Tastes like you tried.
3️⃣ Garlic Butter Chicken Bites (Skillet)
Pan-fried happiness in butter and garlic, paired with green beans and potatoes (microwave or skillet — you do you).
4️⃣ Smothered Chicken & Rice Bake
One pan. Chicken thighs. Rice. Cream-of-something soup. Zero regrets.
5️⃣ Kielbasa & Potato Skillet
Hearty, fast, requires almost no brain cells. Bonus points if you add onions.
6️⃣ Baked Pasta
Cheesy, saucy, optionally beefy. Feeds a crowd or just you for three days.
Reserve Days (4-5x per week)
These are your “I cannot even” days. Pantry, freezer, leftovers, and minimal thought required. BBQ Chicken Sandwiches (reserve buns, chips, pickles)
When your energy comes with an expiration date, every choice becomes strategic.
We all know spoon theory. But let’s be real—most of the advice assumes you’re managing your energy for your own activities. What happens when you can’t just “rest when you need to” because someone else depends on you for dinner, rides, and emotional regulation? When your autistic teenager needs consistency but your fibromyalgia is flaring? When your ADHD brain forgot to save energy for the evening routine, but bedtime still has to happen?
I’m not trying to be a saint here—I’m trying to survive until bedtime without completely falling apart. And that requires a different kind of energy strategy than the basic spoon theory tutorials assume.
The Complex Reality: When Multiple Conditions Collide
These are my dancin spoons
Here’s what the basic spoon theory explanations miss: When you’re managing fibromyalgia, ADHD, and bipolar disorder simultaneously, your spoons aren’t just limited—they’re unpredictable.
My ADHD brain might hyperfocus and blow through six spoons organizing one closet. A bipolar mood shift can drain spoons faster than a phone with a cracked screen drains battery. And fibromyalgia? It’s like having a fluctuating baseline that changes without warning.
Add parenting an autistic teenager to the mix, and you’re not just managing your own energy—you’re strategically allocating it so everyone gets what they need, including you still being a functioning human by 8 PM. (Well I never claim to be a functioning human any time after 5 lol)
This isn’t about being selfless. It’s about being smart enough to pace yourself so you don’t crash and burn, leaving everyone (including yourself) worse off.
The Science Behind Why We Run Out of Spoons
Research backs up what we’ve always known: fibromyalgia isn’t just “feeling tired.” Studies show people with fibromyalgia experience disrupted sleep, increased pain sensitivity, and central sensitization—basically, our nervous systems are stuck in overdrive.
Key Research Findings:
Fibromyalgia and Central Sensitization: The National Institute of Arthritis and Musculoskeletal Diseases confirms fibromyalgia affects how the brain processes pain signals, leading to widespread pain and fatigue.
Sleep Disruption: 75–90% of people with fibromyalgia experience sleep disorders, creating a vicious cycle where pain disrupts sleep and poor sleep worsens pain.
ADHD and Executive Function: ADHD impacts energy regulation through executive dysfunction, making pacing activities harder.
But here’s what medical literature doesn’t capture: what happens when you can’t just “listen to your body” and rest whenever you need because someone else is counting on you?
Energy Pacing: The Research-Backed Strategy That Actually Works
The good news? There’s solid research supporting strategies beyond “just rest more.” Activity pacing is designed for people who can’t just stop when they’re tired.
Key Research Findings:
Activity Pacing Works: A 2023 systematic review found pacing—regulating activity to avoid post-exertional crashes—is one of the most effective strategies for chronic fatigue conditions.
Better Than Boom-Bust: People who learn pacing techniques report significantly improved quality of life compared to those who push through until they crash.
The Energy Envelope: Research shows staying within your “energy envelope” prevents the crash-and-burn cycle that leaves you useless for days.
The key insight? It’s not about doing less—it’s about doing things more strategically so you can sustain your energy over time.
My Real-Life Strategic Energy System
The Morning Energy Assessment
Every morning, I do a quick reality check: How’s my pain? Did I sleep? Is my brain foggy? This gives me a realistic count of my available energy for the day. A good day might be 15 units. A flare day? Maybe 8. The key is honesty about what I actually have, not what I wish I had.
The Triage System: Essential vs. Optional
I ruthlessly categorize tasks:
Essential: Medication, meals, safety, school pickup Important: Homework, emotional check-ins, sensory accommodations Optional: Fancy meals, deep cleaning, being the “fun mom”
On low-energy days, I focus only on essentials. My teen knows that sometimes we operate in “basic functioning mode,” and that’s just life—not failure. I have learned I am terrible at categorizing though lol.
The 80% Rule
Research shows staying within your “energy envelope” prevents crashes. For me, this means spending no more than 80% of my energy by 3 PM. Kids still need dinner, and I still need to exist as a person after sundown.
Practical Energy-Saving Strategies That Actually Work
Here’s where theory meets reality. These aren’t pie-in-the-sky ideas—these are battle-tested strategies for functioning for others while managing complex needs.
Batch Processing: Work Smarter, Not Harder
High-energy tasks happen on good days. Maintenance mode on the rest. Strategic, not lazy.
Examples:
Book medical appointments together to reduce recovery time
Meal prep when you’re energized, not hangry
Handle school stuff in batches
Environmental Modifications: Make Your Space Work for You
Our home reduces energy demands on purpose. Essentials are easy to reach, grab bars help, and my teen knows the layout.
Modifications:
Keep essentials within easy reach
Set up “stations” for meds, homework, decompression
Use timers and alarms because our brains aren’t built for mental tabs
The 20-Minute Rule
If it takes longer than 20 minutes, it gets chunked smaller or delegated. This prevents ADHD hyperfocus from burning my whole day’s energy.
When Your Teen Needs to Understand Your Reality
One of the hardest parts? Explaining to my autistic teen why I can’t do something today that I could yesterday. Consistency helps, but clarity wins. She’s gotten better since she goes to school based therapy, I’ve really been proud of her empathy lately.
What works:
Concrete language: “I have 3 energy units left. Dinner needs 2.”
Offer alternatives: “I can’t drive you, but I can order it.”
Honesty: “Energy changes daily. Not your fault or mine.”
Involve them: “How can we make this work with what I’ve got left?”
The Guilt Factor: Why Strategic Rest Isn’t Selfish
It took me years to accept this: protecting my energy isn’t lazy—it’s responsible. Proactive rest keeps me showing up tomorrow.
Saying no to extras isn’t shirking responsibility—it’s saving energy for what truly matters. Operating in “basic functioning mode” is how I keep us afloat without sinking out of stubbornness.
Next Week: Building your support network and emergency energy protocols—because even superheroes need backup plans. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.
(Only mildly exaggerated, but it wouldnt matter because we’re spicy and no one tells US what to do!))
1. Snacks Count as a Coping Skill.
If it has carbs, it’s basically therapy. Cheese is classified as its own group lol.
2. “I Forgot” Is a Valid Reason.
So is “my brain glitched.” No need to lie about aliens (unless it’s funny). Maybe a George interrupted your thoughts IYKYK
3. Parallel Play Is Quality Time.
Existing near each other silently? Peak bonding. We congratulate each other when we imaginary win Wheel of Fortune.
4. Meltdowns Are Temporary; Love Is Not.
Cry it out, stim it out, leave the room dramatically — we’re still good. Some times we need to give each other a 15 minute buffer of alone time after disrupting or unsettling encounters.
5. Mutual Respect > Clean Counters.
Nobody ever died from crumbs, but words? They linger. I cannot emphasize this sarcastically because I really want you to think about what you say and as much as you can be, be intentional.
6. Matching Socks Are Optional. Headphones Are Not.
Protect your peace. Protect others from your playlists. Wear what you want some long as your covering the important parts lol.
7. No Important Conversations After 8pm.
Unless it’s about snacks, cat memes, or space facts. Write it down, type it out, I can promise you if you tell me something at night I have ZERO recall the next day.
8. Time Is Fake, But Deadlines Are Real.
We use timers, calendars, sticky notes, and sheer panic. As I’ve said in the past, try using time blocks rather than completed activities.
9. Sensory Needs Come First.
Dim the lights, turn down the noise, and yes, we will leave the store. I have no problem just getting up and going outside if the air starts to overwhelm and choke you.
10. We Are Allowed to Be Weird Here.
Repeat as needed: Normal is a setting on the dryer. Because normal is overrated, and honestly, it looks even more exhausting. Lol, til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!
Let me paint you a picture: One neurodivergent parent with executive dysfunction, sensory issues, a flair for hyperfocus (at the worst times), and a caffeine addiction… raising a neurodivergent teen who also has executive dysfunction, sensory issues, and a flair for hyperfocus (also at the worst times). Poor non neurodivirgent Dad lol. (Lucky he’s a little spicy in his own way so he gets it)
What we’ve got here, folks, is not a traditional household. It’s a feedback loop with matching eye rolls and snack wrappers. With attitude.
“I’m Not Yelling, I’m Just Expressing Loudly With My Whole Body”
I used to think parenting would be about teaching my child how to be a functioning adult. Now I realize it’s about co-regulating while we both spiral in different directions over things like why the peanut butter is wrong. Not gone. Just wrong.
We’ve had conversations like:
“I can’t handle this right now.”
“Same.”
“So what do you want to do about it?”
“I don’t know”
“Cool me either. Want to avoid it together?”
When You’re the Grown-Up and Still Don’t Have the Manual
Let’s be real: parenting any teen is a mix of love, worry, and mystery smells.
Sometimes I’m the wise mentor. Sometimes I’m the raccoon in the laundry room making emotionally impulsive decisions because my hair hurts and I need a snack.
We forget things together. We hyperfixate on the same random topic (shoutout to that two-week deep dive into plane crash documentaries, but our fallback is cat videos lol). We both get overstimulated in stores and end up leaving without whatever we went in for.
But at least we do it as a team.
What Actually Helps Us (Spoiler: Not Just Schedules)
People say neurodivergent kids need structure. Sure. But have you ever tried creating that structure while your brain is doing circus tricks and crying at the same time?
So we’ve learned to build little systems that don’t require too many spoons:
Timers with fun alarms. (Because “Gentle bells” don’t work on either of us. We need “aggressive robot beep.”)
Codewords for meltdowns. (We’ve used “just “NOPE.” but I think we’re good at picking up on each others tells by now no words needed)
Parallel processing. (We do our own things side by side while exchanging exactly 4.5 words. Always. We watch Wheel together, we’re not watching it together so much as competing between each other but the sentiment is there)
And when all else fails: snacks, memes, and leaving the room before anyone says something regrettable.
The Pick Your Battles™ Scale
Let me introduce you to my secret weapon: the Pick Your Battles™ Scale. It’s how I decide whether to engage or let it go with my spicy teen (and honestly, with myself).
Situation
Rating
Translation
They wore pajama pants to the store.
1/10
Not a fight worth my last nerve, so long as all the bits are covered I’m not stressin.
They forgot their homework again.
4/10
Gently nudge, don’t die on this hill.
They said I ruined their life because I made pasta instead of rice.
2/10
Sounds like a feelings day. Feed them, don’t fight them.
They screamed into a pillow instead of at me.
0/10
That’s emotional maturity, baby. Celebrate it. Hubby gets mad if she walks away mumbling under her breath. I’m like really thats NORMAL teen behavior, I’ve done it, so long as the words are to herself I see no harm in letting her cuss me out. Its when she screams at me thats the problem.
They were mean to the cat.
10/10
Pause the world. This one needs addressing.
This little internal rubric helps me reserve energy for what actually matters. (Spoiler: it’s not always the socks on the floor.)
The Secret Sauce: Radical Compassion + Shared Eye Rolls
My kid gets it. I get it. We’re both doing our best with the wonky wiring we’ve got.
Some days that means deep talks about emotions and neurobiology. Other days that means forgetting it’s trash day for the third week in a row and bonding over mutual shame while taking it out in pajamas at 3 p.m.
There’s beauty in the chaos. There’s humor in the mess. There’s love in the way we see each other clearly, even when the world doesn’t.
So If You’re Out There, Fellow Neurospicy Parent…
You’re not failing. You’re not alone. You’re just raising a tiny mirror who also loses their phone in their own hand and argues like a well-informed gremlin.
And that? That’s something worth celebrating.
Preferably with matching fidgets and a mutually agreed-upon “silent hour.” Til next time gang. Take care of yourselves, and each other.
Let’s be honest: brains can be drama queens. They catastrophize. They tell half-truths. They rerun that one embarrassing moment from seventh grade like it’s a Netflix Original. And when you live with chronic illness, ADHD, bipolar disorder, or you’re just a human being trying to function, those mental reruns can get extra spicy.
Enter: reframing. It’s a simple but powerful cognitive strategy that helps you shift how you view a situation or thought—without pretending everything is fine when it’s clearly not. This isn’t about toxic positivity. This is about mental judo.
What Is Reframing (And Why Should I Care?)
Reframing is the mental equivalent of turning the pillow over to the cool side. It’s rooted in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and helps you challenge automatic negative thoughts by looking at things from a different (and often more helpful) perspective.
It’s not about lying to yourself. It’s about finding a version of the truth that doesn’t punch you in the gut.
How Reframing Works (Spoiler: Science Says It Does)
Research shows that reframing, also called “cognitive reappraisal,” can significantly reduce symptoms of anxiety, depression, and stress. Two studies worth name-dropping at your next emotionally intelligent brunch:
Gross & John (2003) found that people who use reappraisal are more emotionally balanced and less likely to explode or implode emotionally.
Citation: Gross, J. J., & John, O. P. (2003). Individual differences in two emotion regulation processes. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 85(2), 348. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.85.2.348
Jamieson et al. (2012) showed that people who reframed their stress (as the body preparing to rise to a challenge) performed better and felt less overwhelmed.
Citation: Jamieson, J. P., Nock, M. K., & Mendes, W. B. (2012). Mind over matter. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 141(3), 417–422. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0025719
How to Reframe Without Losing Your Edge
Catch the Thought Example: “I’m lazy. I didn’t get anything done today.”
Reality Check Ask: Is this a feeling or a fact? Would I say this to a friend?
Flip It Gently Reframe: “My energy was low, and I did what I could. Resting isn’t lazy.”
Add Sass or Compassion (Optional but Recommended) Try: “Okay, Brain. Thanks for your input. Now please go sit in the back with Anxiety and Guilt.”
Everyday Reframes That Save My Sanity
Unhelpful Thought
Reframed Thought
“I’m falling behind.”
“I’m moving at my own pace, and that’s valid.”
“I should be doing more.”
“I’m doing what I can, and that counts.”
“Everyone else has it together.”
“They’re probably also crying in their car.”
“I’ll never get it right.”
“Progress isn’t linear, and effort matters.”
Closing Thoughts (AKA Why You Deserve a Brain That Isn’t Mean)
You don’t need to have perfect mental health to practice reframing. You just need to notice when your thoughts are dragging you under and say, “Actually, no thanks.”
Reframing isn’t pretending life is great. It’s realizing you don’t have to believe every thought your brain throws at you. Especially the mean ones. Especially the hopeless ones.
You are allowed to talk back.
And you deserve to hear yourself say something kinder. Til next time guys. Take care of yourselves, and each other
(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!
Cold, Hard Reality Check:
WannaBeNormal 