Tag: #MentalHealthHumor

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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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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!

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Notifications from My Chronic Illness Squad

JoLeave a comment

Sometimes living with multiple diagnoses feels like I’m stuck moderating the world’s most chaotic group chat. None of my conditions text in complete sentences, everyone interrupts, and nobody ever seems to be on the same page. Honestly, if you peeked at the notifications going off in my brain, this is pretty much what you’d see…

Good Morning!

ADHD: “GUYS I just had the BEST idea! Let’s reorganize the closet at 2 a.m. while blasting music!”

Fibromyalgia: “Cool, but you’re going to need a heating pad, three naps, and a chiropractor after.”

Bipolar: “YES. Let’s do it! Let’s paint the closet rainbow colors and start a whole new side hustle around it!!”

Anxiety: “Wait. What if the paint is toxic? What if you mess it up? What if everyone laughs at you? Also, did you lock the door?”

Depression: “lol. what’s the point of even having a closet.”

PTSD: [randomly sends 17 fire emojis]

After Lunch:


ADHD: “Oops, forgot the drawers. Now I’m starting a craft project.”

Fibromyalgia: “Oh, awesome. Guess who’s going to need three days in bed because of hot glue injuries?”

Bipolar: “WE CAN SELL IT ON ETSY! MILLIONS!!”

Anxiety: “What if nobody buys it? What if they all leave one-star reviews? What if we end up bankrupt??”

Depression: “same.”

PTSD: [sends an old photo no one wanted to see]

Mid – Afternoon

ADHD: “Oops! Forgot the craft, but I DID deep clean the fridge!”


Fibromyalgia: “Congrats. I’ll just be over here, inflamed like a balloon.”

Motivation (rare cameo): “Guys… maybe we… clean the kitchen?”

ADHD: Ignore Motivation, he’s on vacation most days


Bipolar: “OMG let’s turn this into a cleaning business! Million-dollar idea!!”


Anxiety: “What if someone hires us and we miss a spot and they never forgive us?”


Depression: “We wouldn’t go anyway.”


PTSD: [sends a soft focus picture of nothing in particular]

2 A.M. Chaos 🌙

ADHD: “GUYS! Big idea! We should make a podcast!”

Fibromyalgia: “We can’t even make it through a shower without a recovery period.”


Bipolar: “No, no — THIS is the idea that’ll change everything!!”

Anxiety: “What if no one listens? What if EVERYONE listens?!”

Depression: “lol. either way, pointless.”

PTSD: [sends a GIF of an explosion]

And that’s just one day in the group chat. Tomorrow they’ll be arguing about whether to try a new hobby, cry about laundry, or plan an entire business venture at 3 a.m. Living with ADHD, bipolar disorder, fibromyalgia (and the rest of the crew) isn’t neat or predictable—it’s messy, noisy, and sometimes ridiculous. But at least if I can laugh at the chaos, I get to feel like the one running the chat instead of just stuck in it Till next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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The Great Household Item Hide & Seek (and the Conversations I’ve Had With Myself While Looking for Them)

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You know how some people lose themselves in books or meditation? Yeah, not me. I lose myself in a daily game of hide & seek with my household items. Keys, phones, socks, remotes, pens — all apparently sentient and united in their mission to make me look ridiculous.

What makes it worse? The conversations I have with myself while I’m searching. Spoiler: I’m both the villain and the detective, and I’m never kind to myself in either role.

Here’s a peek into the thrilling mysteries that unfold in my home:

🧦 The Missing Socks Saga

One sock left in the dryer, the other AWOL.

Me: “Did I put this in the laundry?”
Also me: “Nope, it was definitely in the drawer.”
Me: “So… abducted by aliens?”
Also me: “Or maybe it’s sipping espresso in Paris while you walk around like a mismatched peasant.”

Result: I usually find it way too late — after my daughter has cut it into an art project, or the cat has been subjected to a “custom sweater” that was three sizes too small.

📱 The Vanishing Phone Mystery

My phone disappears precisely when I’m already late.

Me: “I know I set it down… somewhere.”
Also me: “Maybe in the fridge? You’ve done worse.”
Me: “I don’t know! I don’t know anything anymore! This is how the chaos wins.”
Also me: “Honestly, you’d be late even if it was taped to your forehead.”

📺 The Remote’s Secret Life

The remote hides in plain sight: under cushions, in laundry baskets, behind the cat.

Me: “This remote is plotting against me.”
Also me: “Yep, it’s basically Loki in plastic form.”
Me: “It knows I want to binge my show. This is betrayal on a molecular level.”
Also me: “Face it, the remote has stronger boundaries than you do.”

✨ Bonus Round – The Usual Suspects

Pens that vanish. Hair ties that escape. Phone chargers that ghost me like a bad date.

Me: “Is it under the bed, on the counter, or did it grow legs?”
Also me: “Nah, it packed a bag and joined the circus.”
Me: “Fine. I’ll just survive off raw anxiety.”
Also me: “Cool, that’s basically your whole lifestyle brand anyway.”

The Takeaway

Somewhere between yelling at invisible forces and negotiating with the cat, I’ve realized: maybe this is just normal. Maybe everyone’s household is secretly playing hide & seek with their sanity. Also me is a comedy genius lol.

Or maybe I’m just cursed.

Either way, I’m declaring a truce. But first… coffee. Definitely coffee.

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Reasons I Walked Into This Room (Spoiler: I Still Don’t Know)

JoLeave a comment

An ADHD mystery in real time

Here I am, standing in my bedroom, looking around like I’ve never seen this place before in my life. I definitely had a purpose when I left the kitchen. I was very determined. I had INTENT.

Now? I got nothing.

What I Tell Myself It Might Have Been:

  1. To get my phone charger
    (Nope my phone is at 97%)
  2. To grab that important document I need
    (what document? for what? the mystery deepens)
  3. To put away that thing I left in here yesterday
    (what thing? which yesterday? time is a construct)
  4. To check if I left my coffee cup in here
    (I’m not even drinking coffee today)
  5. To get something for my kid who asked for… something
    (they’re at school. it’s Tuesday. I think.)
  6. To turn off a light that was bothering me
    (all the lights are off. it’s 2 PM. I’m questioning reality)
  7. To find my glasses
    (they’re on my head. they’ve been on my head this entire time)
  8. To get that book I was reading
    (I haven’t touched a book in three weeks, what am I even talking about)
  9. To look for my keys so I don’t lose them later
    (they’re in my pocket. jingling. mocking me)

The Actual Reason:

I followed the cat.

The cat had no destination either.

We’re both just standing here now, equally confused, staring at each other and wondering what we’re doing with our lives. At least the cat has an excuse – he’s a cat. His life goals include knocking things off counters, judging my life choices, and staring at invisible things on the wall.

I’m a grown adult who apparently takes navigation cues from a creature whose biggest daily decision is which sunny spot to nap in.

Current Status:

Still in the room. Still don’t know why. The cat has moved on to more important cat business (aggressive grooming of one specific paw). I’m considering asking him for directions back to whatever I was originally doing, but he’s giving me that look that says, “Figure it out yourself, human. I’m not your GPS.”

Maybe I’ll just stay here forever. Set up camp. Make this room my new home base. At least then when people ask “Why are you in here?” I can say “I live here now. This is my life. The cat is my roommate. We don’t ask questions.”

Anyone else take mystery tours of their own house, or is it just me and my feline guide to nowhere?

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Neurospicy Household Rules

JoLeave a comment

(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!

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Extremely Official Life Lessons I’ve Learned From Inanimate Objects

JoLeave a comment

Hey friends. No heavy lifting today — unless you count carrying the emotional weight of a slightly stale muffin and a cluttered craft table. Just some wisdom I’ve gathered from staring at household objects for way too long and assigning them personalities.

1. My Laundry Basket

Life lesson: You can only carry so much emotional weight (and unmatched socks) before you drop something and cry about it.

2. My Microwave

Life lesson: You can explode if someone doesn’t give you enough time to cool off. It’s science. And vibes.

3. That One Spoon That’s Always Dirty

Life lesson: You are valuable. You are essential. And even if you feel gross and overlooked, someone’s probably looking for you right now.

4. The Craft Table (aka The Table Formerly Known as “Dining Room”)

Life lesson: You don’t have to be pretty to be productive. Also, chaos can be functional. It’s fine. It’s all fine.

5. My Phone Charger

Life lesson: You can’t be expected to power everything if you’re frayed at both ends. Unplug. Recharge. Or scream. Honestly, all valid.

6. The Thermostat

Life lesson: You can keep everything “set” just right and still end up wildly uncomfortable. Sometimes your system just doesn’t cooperate. That doesn’t mean you’re broken — it means you’re human. Or possibly perimenopausal. Or both. Let’s be honest, probably both.

7. The Floor

Life lesson: No matter how hard you hope, it still isn’t made of trampoline. Bouncing back takes work. And ice packs.

8. The Dish Towel That’s Always Damp

Life lesson: You can show up day after day, do your job, and still get left in a heap in the corner. But look at you — still wiping up messes like a champ.

9. That Cup in the Sink That No One Ever Claims

Life lesson: Boundaries are important. You are not the designated cleaner of everyone else’s mystery problems.

10. My Alarm Clock

Life lesson: People won’t always appreciate you for waking them up, but sometimes being the annoying truth-teller is your job. Be loud anyway.

Til next time gang, unless I resin my fingers together lol. Take care of yourselves, and each other!

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A Grown-Up Juice Box and Other Things I Wish Existed Today

JoLeave a comment

Survival & Sanity Edition

Some days, I just need something to fix everything instantly.
A nap. A hug. A reset button. A very large grilled cheese that appears by yelling “Grilled cheese!”

Since none of that magically appeared (yet), here’s my list of things I wish existed today. Feel free to add yours in the comments, because I know I’m not the only one on the edge.

🌈 Today’s Top 10 Things That Should Exist But Don’t:

  1. A grown-up juice box with electrolytes, magnesium, and a splash of wine. Or beer. Or a shot of Jack lol it depends on the day.
  2. A “No One Is Allowed to Ask Me Anything Today” hat—everyone must obey it. Also on a related note, a personal bubble. Let those suckers keep their distance .
  3. A teleporting weighted blanket that hugs you and then disappears before you get too hot. Does anyone’s body temp go wonky with sleep deprivation or high anxiety? No just me? Sweet! It actually makes me have a physical ‘flush’
  4. An adult-sized baby swing that rocks you while playing lo-fi beats and whispering “you’re doing great.” Maybe music instead of the whispering, that actually sounds a little creepy lol but I’m down for the swings! Hubby even has hooks indoors to hang hammocks sometimes the swinging or rocking repetitive motion helps.
  5. A “pause the world” button. Just for an hour. Or a week. It was kind of like that when I was in the coma, don’t recommend that route.
  6. A clone who does your grocery shopping and argues with the insurance company for you. Use what you’ve got though, we do pick up whenever possible even if we plan on going inside, its easier to manage the list, keeps things a little more organized.
  7. A universal “I’m spiraling, treat me gently” badge that everyone understands. Or don’t understand, just respect others feelings, that shouldnt even have to be a wish, but its not exactly great out there.
  8. An emotional support burrito that is also a functioning therapist. Or tacos! Emotional support tacos with some frozen margs lol.
  9. A magic snack drawer that restocks with your comfort food daily (and knows your allergies). Cool ranch on lock!
  10. A panic shutoff switch. Like a car alarm button, but for your brain. A pause? Maybe just not a multi party pile up on the everything all at once highway lol
  11. A fidget suit. I would straight up rock that thing at every opportunity. Imagine: a soft, cozy hoodie with textured sleeves, loops to tug on, snap buttons, zipper pulls, maybe even little hidden squeeze pouches and stretchy straps to tug when you’re crawling out of your own skin, I can tell you how often the panic will come over me at night and the only thing that helps is hopping out of bed and MOVING. Oh and POCKETS.
  12. Weighted curtains for your brain, you pull them closed and suddenly outside voices get quiet, to-do lists stop screaming, and it’s like a sensory hug for your overstimulated self.
    Bonus: blocks gaslighting and unsolicited advice.
  13. A Spoon Dispenser lol you swipe a card or breathe into it, and if it senses you’ve been emotionally juggling chainsaws, it gives you five extra spoons for the day. So many days I’d give my last penny for a spoon lol
  14. Memory foam couch that holds you like a mom, it knows when you’re about to cry and reclines automatically. One arm dispenses hot tea, the other tucks a weighted blanket around you.
    Available in “Smells Like Cookies” and “Washes Your Hair Energy.”
    Limited edition comes with caffeine mist and validation.

Whether it’s imaginary inventions or real-deal coping tools, the truth is we’re all just trying to patch together peace in a loud, messy world. Some days we thrive. Some days we spiral in our soft pants and pray the coffee kicks in before the anxiety does. Either way, you’re not alone in this. You never were.

So take your meds, drink some water, and rest when you need to. Find something small to laugh about if you can. And remember: survival is still survival, even when it’s messy.

Take care of yourselves—and each other.

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Trying to Be a Present Parent When You’re Dissociating

JoLeave a comment

(Or: “Sorry, kid, my brain’s floating three feet to the left right now.”)

Some days, I’m Supermom(ish).
Other days, I’m just a sentient pile of laundry pretending to be a person.
And then there are the days I’m trying to parent through a fog so thick it feels like I’m watching my life on a 5-second delay. Do you ever do that? Your nodding along, it appears you are in agreement only to blurt out an answer to a rhetorical question from two topics ago and its just stares and crickets? No? just me?

That’s dissociation — and it’s not just zoning out. It’s a real and very common symptom of trauma, stress, and neurodivergence.

🧠 What Dissociation Actually Is

Dissociation is your brain’s way of going, “Nope. Too much. We’re going to detach for survival now.” Believe it or not I learned this when my heart stopped. I have ZERO recollection of at least a month on either side, and I hope I never get those memories back because they had to be scary for my brain to hide them like that.

Dissociation can feel like:

  • You’re watching yourself from outside your body
  • Time is warped or unreal
  • The world looks… fake. Like how they depict it in movies with people in your face that look like characters from a dream
  • Emotions are muted, or you’re totally numb

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), dissociation can affect people with PTSD, anxiety, depression, ADHD, and bipolar disorder — basically, a Greatest Hits list of what I’m working with.

And yes, it can show up in chronic pain conditions too. Research in the Journal of Trauma & Dissociation (2020) found that people with fibromyalgia reported higher dissociation symptoms than control groups — likely because living in constant pain is its own form of trauma.

👩‍👧 But What Does That Look Like as a Parent?

It looks like:

  • Nodding at your teen’s story but realizing you didn’t process a word of it
  • Looking at the kitchen sink and wondering how the dishes multiplied like gremlins
  • Holding your kid’s hand while mentally floating somewhere in 2004
  • Hearing “Mom?” for the third time before realizing you are Mom. Or your name, anything someone has to say three times before it registers.

And when your kid’s autistic and needs you fully present — or your brain’s ADHD and skittering like George in a glitter store — that’s a special brand of guilt.

🧷 What Helps Me Come Back

I’m still figuring it out. But here’s what works — sometimes:

  • Name it: “I’m dissociating” sounds weird at first, but saying it out loud grounds me. It also helps my teen understand it’s not personal. It has helped countless times with hubby.
  • Cold water or texture changes: Ice packs, textured putty, or touching something rough brings me back. Try keeping a wash cloth in the freezer.
  • Mindless movement: Folding towels. Walking in circles. Tapping my fingers. Rhythm helps. Fidget spinners. Keep a pencil and paper and doodle. Anything mindless.
  • Breathing and narration: “I’m sitting. My feet are on the floor. I can hear the fan.” It’s cheesy. It works. Its a variation of a tact professionals use, five things you can see, four things you can hear, etc.

💬 If This Is You Too…

You’re not broken.
You’re not a bad parent.
You’re not failing because your brain protects you in weird, inconvenient ways.

You’re doing the best you can. And you’re still showing up. Even if it’s in pieces, even if you’re floating — you’re here.

That counts for something. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves and each other.