Tag: PTSD

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5 Ridiculously Small Things That Actually Make Life Easier

JoLeave a comment

Life is overwhelming enough without adding big, complicated “fixes” to the mix. That’s why sometimes the smallest shifts—things you can do in a minute or less—end up making the biggest difference. None of these will change your entire world, but they will help smooth the edges of a rough day.

1. Drink Water Out of a Fancy Cup

Hydration is one of those “simple but annoying” tasks. But pour that same water into a glass you love—a stemless wine glass, a mason jar with a straw, or even a mug that makes you smile—and suddenly it feels less like a chore and more like a treat. Little brain tricks for the win.

2. Keep a Blanket in Arm’s Reach

There’s something grounding about having a blanket nearby. Whether it’s the middle of the day or late at night, grabbing it is an instant way to give yourself comfort without any effort. Bonus: it doubles as a nap invitation if you need it.

3. Use the “Two-Minute Rule”

Procrastination thrives on tasks that feel bigger than they are. The two-minute rule says: if it takes less than two minutes, do it now. Throw away that receipt, reply to the text, wipe the counter. You’ll be surprised how much mental clutter disappears when you knock out those quick wins. I’ve noticed this alot cleaning, it feels good to see the problem disappear.

4. Make a “Done List”

To-do lists can be overwhelming, especially when they never seem to shrink. A “done list” flips the script—you jot down everything you’ve already managed, even the small stuff. It shifts your focus from “never enough” to “look what I actually did.” And honestly? That’s the energy boost most of us need. I don’t do this enough, often I’m like, what did I even do all day? show yourself all the hard work you put into your day.

5. Change Your Socks

It sounds silly, but fresh socks are an underrated reset button. They’re small, clean, and cozy, and they send your body the message that something has shifted. On a day when everything feels stagnant, that tiny reset can make you feel just a little more human. Mind the seam placement, that was always a concern with my oldest, she’d refuse to go if she felt the seam in the wrong place.

Closing

Will these tips solve all of life’s chaos? Absolutely not. But they’re proof that you don’t always need massive changes to feel a little better. Sometimes the easiest way forward is simply stacking up these micro-comforts until the day feels lighter. Til next time gang, take car of yourselves, and each other.

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The Social Hangover: Why One Family Gathering = Three Business Days of Recovery

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I did a thing.

I put on jeans. Yes, actual denim. Not “leggings that whisper about being pants if you squint hard enough.” Real jeans. Then, because apparently I like to cosplay as a functioning human, I added makeup. First time in two years. Even did my hair. Honestly, I could’ve stopped there and deserved a medal.

But no, I had a mission: drive three hours each way to see my sister, hand-deliver the painstakingly perfected gifts I’d been working on for weeks, and socialize with more humans than my hermit soul has encountered in… possibly a decade for my sister and grand niece.

Let me tell you, the event itself? Lovely. The invite? Appreciated. The people? Wonderful. The food? Chef’s kiss. My energy afterward? Dead. Buried. Ghosted.

Here’s the unglamorous math nobody tells you:

  • Prep time: two weeks of stressing, shopping, and crafting gifts.
  • Cosmetic upgrades: one hour to transform into “someone who looks like she has her life together.”
  • Event length: six hours in the car, plus a full day of interaction.
  • Recovery time: estimated three to five business days, maybe longer. Please hold.

Today, I’m the human equivalent of a phone stuck on 2% battery with a broken charger. Hollow, sluggish, vaguely resentful at the concept of standing upright. And yet… this is the price of admission when you leave your cave.

So if you’re also lying in bed after “a fun day,” wondering why your body feels like you ran a marathon while juggling flaming swords, let me reassure you: you didn’t imagine it. Social hangovers are real. Spoon debt is brutal. Jeans are a weapon of mass destruction.

Recovery Day Survival Tips (a.k.a. How to Human Again After Too Much Humaning)

  • Hydrate like it’s your new religion. You just sweated out three weeks’ worth of electrolytes socializing.
  • Eat something that doesn’t come in a crinkly wrapper. (No shame if it does, but bonus points for real nutrients.)
  • Lay flat. On the bed, the couch, or the floor — whatever’s closest when you collapse.
  • Noise-cancel the world. Earplugs, headphones, or just a dramatic blanket burrito.
  • Cancel productivity. Laundry and dishes can wait. Your nervous system cannot.
  • Gentle motion only. Stretching, slow walks, or the ceremonial shuffle to the fridge.
  • Remember: jeans are optional for the rest of your life.


Tomorrow I’ll probably be fine(ish). But today? Today is about recovery, snacks, and swearing off denim forever. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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Things I’ve Googled at 2 AM: A Greatest Hits Collection

JoLeave a comment

Welcome to the dark underbelly of my internet search history – that beautiful, chaotic wasteland where insomnia meets ADHD curiosity and good judgment goes to die. If Google keeps receipts (and let’s be honest, they absolutely do), then I’m pretty sure I owe them an apology and possibly therapy fees.

For those blessed neurotypical souls who can actually fall asleep at reasonable hours, let me explain what happens in the 2 AM Google zone: it’s where rational thought meets hyperfocus, and somehow you end up three hours deep in research about whether penguins have knees. Spoiler alert: they do, and now I know more about penguin anatomy than any reasonable adult should.

The Medical Anxiety Spiral

Let’s start with the classics – those searches that begin with a minor bodily concern and end with me mentally writing my will:

  • “why does my left eyelid twitch”
  • “is eye twitching a sign of brain tumor”
  • “brain tumor symptoms”
  • “how long do you live with undiagnosed brain tumor”
  • “can stress cause fake brain tumor symptoms”
  • “how to tell if you’re being dramatic about health symptoms”

This particular rabbit hole usually ends with me either completely convinced I’m dying or completely convinced I’m a hypochondriac, with no middle ground available. WebMD is not your friend at 2 AM, people. WebMD at 2 AM is that friend who tells you your headache is definitely a rare tropical disease even though you live nowhere near water and haven’t left your house in three days.

The Parenting Panic Searches

Nothing quite like teenage behavior to send you spiraling into the depths of Google at ungodly hours:

  • “is it normal for 16 year old to sleep 14 hours”
  • “how much attitude is normal for teenager”
  • “signs your teenager actually hates you vs normal teenage behavior”
  • “how to communicate with teenager who speaks only in grunts”
  • “when do teenagers become human again”

The best part about these searches is that every parenting forum has exactly two types of responses: “totally normal, you’re doing great!” and “this is a red flag, call a professional immediately.” There’s no middle ground in internet parenting advice, which is super helpful when you’re already spiraling at 2 AM.

The Random Life Questions That Consume My Soul

This is where things get weird. These are the searches that start nowhere and go everywhere:

  • “how do they get ships in glass bottles”
  • “what happens if you never cut your fingernails”
  • “do fish get thirsty”
  • “why do we say ‘after dark’ when it’s still light after dark in summer”
  • “how many people are named Steve in the world right now”
  • “what’s the oldest living thing on earth”
  • “can you die from lack of sleep”

That last one usually comes up around hour four of my insomnia adventures, when I’m googling whether my inability to sleep is actually going to kill me. The internet has mixed opinions on this, which is not reassuring when you’re already not sleeping.

The Organizational Fantasy Research

These searches represent my eternal optimism that the right system will finally fix my chaotic life:

  • “best planner for ADHD brain”
  • “bullet journaling for beginners”
  • “how to organize small spaces”
  • “Marie Kondo method actually work”
  • “minimalism with ADHD”
  • “organization systems that actually work for messy people”

I’ve researched more organizational systems than I’ve actually implemented, which tells you everything you need to know about how this usually goes. But hey, at 2 AM, I’m always convinced that THIS system will be the one that changes everything.

The Philosophical Crisis Questions

When the insomnia really sets in and I start questioning the nature of existence:

  • “what is the point of life”
  • “are we living in a simulation”
  • “do other people think in words or pictures”
  • “is everyone else just pretending to have their life together”
  • “what happens to consciousness when you die”
  • “why do humans need meaning in life”

These usually pop up around 3 AM when my brain decides that sleep is for quitters and existential dread is the only logical response to being awake this long.

The Wikipedia Rabbit Holes

These start with one innocent click and end with me knowing way too much about completely random topics:

Starting search: “what year was the microwave invented” Six hours later: I’m an expert on the history of food preservation, the science of radiation, and somehow the entire genealogy of the inventor’s family tree.

Starting search: “why do cats purr” Final destination: A comprehensive understanding of feline evolution, big cat behavior in the wild, and the physics of sound vibration.

The “Do Normal People…” Medical Questions

These are the searches I’m too embarrassed to ask my actual doctor about:

  • “is it normal to talk to yourself out loud”
  • “how often should normal people shower”
  • “what does a normal sleep schedule look like”
  • “do normal people remember their dreams”
  • “how much coffee is too much coffee per day for a normal person”

The irony is that I have an actual doctor I could ask these questions, but somehow googling them at 2 AM feels less judgmental than admitting to a medical professional that I don’t know what constitutes normal human behavior.

The Conspiracy Theory Adjacent Searches

I’m not saying I believe in conspiracy theories, but 2 AM me is definitely more open to alternative explanations for things:

  • “why do all mattress stores seem empty but stay in business”
  • “do birds actually exist or are they government drones”
  • “what’s really in hot dogs”
  • “why do all celebrities look younger than their age”
  • “are we alone in the universe”

These searches usually happen when I’ve been awake too long and my critical thinking skills have left the building. Daylight me reads these search histories and wonders what the hell nighttime me was thinking.

The Conclusion I Never Reach

The beautiful thing about 2 AM Google spirals is that they never actually end with answers – they just end with exhaustion or the sudden realization that it’s somehow 5 AM and I have to be functional in three hours.

I’ve learned more random facts from insomnia-driven research than from college, but I couldn’t tell you how any of it connects or why I needed to know that octopuses have three hearts at 2:30 in the morning.

The real kicker? I’ll do it all again tonight, because apparently my brain believes that this time will be different. This time, I’ll find the perfect solution to all of life’s problems hidden somewhere in the depths of the internet.

Spoiler alert: it’s usually just more questions and the growing realization that humans are weird, life is complicated, and I should probably just go to sleep.

But first, let me just quickly Google why I can’t fall asleep… Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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7 Unexpected Ways to Make Life a Little Easier When You’re Overwhelmed

JoLeave a comment

Life is messy, exhausting, and sometimes downright unfair—but there are clever little hacks that can help you catch your breath, keep your sanity, and even sneak in some joy. None of these tips will magically erase your stress (I wish), but they will make the load lighter.

1. Automate the Little Things

Decision fatigue is real—our brains get worn down by endless small choices. Automating the basics can free up precious energy.

  • Schedule grocery delivery or subscriptions for your must-haves.
  • Set bills to auto-pay.
  • Use reminders for meds, appointments, or chores.

It may feel tiny, but the mental relief adds up.

2. Reserve-Based Meal Planning

Instead of starting from scratch every day, build meals off “reserves” you’ve already cooked. Think big-batch taco meat, roast chicken, or skillet sausage that can be reimagined into multiple meals. Less chopping, less cooking, more living. I do this biweekly and feature a menu plan and shopping list every other Sunday, but its not rocket science so if you don’t stick 100% to it no big deal, I just keep the featured ingredients on hand and offer a multitude of uses for it. As stated above, decision fatigue is real and its so helpful to have that choice already made.

3. Build a “Bad Day Box”

Keep a stash of small comforts for the days when everything feels impossible. Fill it with:

  • A favorite snack or tea
  • Cozy socks or a heating pad
  • A playlist that makes you laugh or sing along

It doesn’t solve the hard stuff, but it gives you a lifeline when you’re sinking. If you want one already made I might know someone….

4. Quick Mental Resets

A five-minute pause can do more than you think. Whether it’s a short guided meditation, deep breathing, or blasting your favorite song, those tiny resets can shift your brain out of panic mode and back toward calm. Make it something easy that you have access to, it can be comedy or a podcast that makes you laugh, anything that shifts the focus of your thoughts is the idea.

5. Make Your Space Work for You

Clutter equals stress. Even little changes—like keeping meds, remotes, or supplies in a caddy by your chair—cut down on the low-grade chaos. Lighting, airflow, and comfort matter more than we admit.

6. Outsource Where You Can

If you can swing it, pay for help. Order takeout, hire a cleaner, or swap chores with a friend. Energy is a resource, and saving yours is not laziness—it’s smart strategy.

7. Celebrate Tiny Wins

You got out of bed? That counts. Finished a task? Write it down and cross it off just for the satisfaction. Momentum grows when you notice the little victories instead of waiting for the big ones.

Life isn’t perfect, and neither are we—but small hacks like these add up. They create breathing room, lighten the load, and make survival a little more manageable. Try one or two this week. You deserve the ease. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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Watching the Drama: I Know It’s Not That Bad — Except My Brain Won’t Believe Me

JoLeave a comment

There’s a terrible little superpower I’ve developed: I can watch myself overreact.

It’s the worst seat in the house — front row, center stage — where my brain is performing a full-throttle disaster musical and I’m sitting there with the program, thinking, “Yep. That’s… dramatic.” Meanwhile my chest is doing interpretive dance, my throat is tight, and my hands have decided to be useless for the foreseeable future.

I know the script. I know the facts. I know that my kid is safe, that no one is angry enough to leave forever, that the noise outside is probably just traffic, not the arrival of doom. I can literally name the thoughts as they happen: This is a sign. This is going to spiral. Everyone will leave. I am unfixable. And I know, in a rational, calm part of my brain, that the thought is an alarm that’s been stuck on repeat. I also know that knowing it — intellectually — doesn’t flip a switch and make my body stop treating it like an emergency.

That’s PTSD after medical trauma for you in a sentence: your mind is both the actor and the audience. The rest of your life keeps going. You keep getting up, you keep making tea, you keep paying bills. But some invisible part of you stays backstage, rewinding and replaying a scary scene, making sound effects, and refusing to let the house lights come up.

Why the “I know it’s not true” feeling is its own kind of hell

It’s isolating. Because the knowledge that your thoughts are lying should be freeing, right? In theory. But being the person who can say, “This is irrational,” while your body screams “RUN” is exhausting and weirdly lonely. You end up apologizing to people for things they weren’t even upset about, or you cancel plans because you feel unsafe even though everything else says you’re fine. You blame yourself for being dramatic. You try to be the reasonable adult and the reasonable adult keeps getting ignored.

And then there’s guilt. If friends or family do help, you watch them pay attention and you feel both relieved and awful — because you think you’re costing them time and energy. You start to believe that self-sufficiency is the only moral option and asking for help is taking more than you deserve. Spoiler: that’s not the truth. It’s an emotional trap set up by fear.

Tiny, practical things that actually help when your brain runs the show

I’m not going to give you platitudes. Here are things that have helped me — small, honest, and doable even on the worst days.

  • Label the play: When the alarm starts, say out loud (or mentally): “That’s my PTSD talking. That’s the survival brain.” Naming it doesn’t make it vanish but it takes away some of its power.
  • Two-minute grounding: Five things you see, four things you can touch, three sounds, two smells, one thing you can taste (or one thing you like about the moment). It’s boring, and that’s the point. It pulls you out of the theater.
  • Breathe like you mean it: 4-4-6 breathing (inhale 4, hold 4, exhale 6) calms the vagus nerve faster than a pep talk.
  • Write the loop down: If a memory keeps looping, grab a notebook and write it until you’re bored of it. Then scribble one practical line: “Right now: I am home. Right now: I can breathe.” The page can hold the drama when your brain insists on replaying it.
  • Micro-asks for people: Don’t make others guess. Say, “Can you sit with me for ten minutes?” or “Could you text me at 7 to check in?” People who care usually want the script — they just don’t want to mess it up.
  • Make a tiny safety plan: three things to do if it spikes (call X, 2-minute grounding, favorite playlist). Tape it to the fridge if you have to. Pre-deciding reduces panic.

What to say — when you want to ask for help but hate feeling needy

Try something simple and specific:

“I’m feeling fragile today. I don’t need advice — could you just sit with me for 10 minutes?”

Or, if you need practical help:

“My energy is low; could you pick up milk on the way home? It would help more than you know.”

Short. Specific. Low drama. It gives people an easy yes.

The honest truth I remind myself (even when my brain screams otherwise)

I can hold two truths at once:

  • My mind is telling a bigger story than the facts support.
  • Needing help right now doesn’t make me a burden — it makes me human.

There’s a difference between the loudness of a feeling and the size of reality. Your feelings are not the final arbiters of truth. They are signals. Sometimes they’re reliable, sometimes they’re not. You don’t have to act on every alarm. You can notice it, honor it, and then choose what you do next.

A small support for the messy days

If you’re reading this while your chest is tight and your brain is staging a meltdown, I see you. I know how lonely it becomes to watch yourself react and feel like you’ve failed at being calm. You haven’t failed. You’ve survived things that rewired your alarm system. That makes your reactions loud — not your worth small. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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Survival & Sanity Weeks 23 & 24

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Cooking every day in the summer heat? Hard pass. This two-week menu is built around my reserve system: you cook three times a week, then remix the leftovers into totally new meals so nobody gets bored (or starves when you’re out of spoons). Think tacos that turn into nachos, sausage that morphs into pasta or sandwiches, and crockpot chicken that somehow ends up on nachos, wraps, and even pizza.

Because honestly—our lives are chaotic enough. Dinner should not be.

Sunday (Cook): Crockpot Tacos (big batch ground beef or turkey)

  • Serve: traditional tacos
  • Reserve ideas: taco rice bowls, taco pasta, nachos, quesadillas, taco salad.

Monday (Reserve): Taco Rice or Taco Pasta (stretch w/ noodles or rice)

Tuesday (Cook): Sausage–Potato–Pearl Onion Skillet

  • Serve: as hearty skillet dinner.
  • Reserve ideas: leftover skillet → breakfast hash (with eggs), or quick reheat over toast.

Wednesday (Reserve): Sausage & Peppers (use extra sausage cooked Tuesday, stretch w/ tomatoes + peppers)

  • Serve: on bread (subs/hoagies) or tossed into pasta.

Thursday (Cook): BBQ Meatballs (crockpot w/ grape jelly + BBQ sauce)

  • Serve: over egg noodles.
  • Reserve ideas: meatball subs, meatball quesadillas, meatball + rice bowls.

Friday (Reserve): Leftovers (meatballs or tacos—dealer’s choice).

Saturday (Reserve): Light day: eggs, sandwiches, snack board, or finish stragglers from the week.

Sunday (Cook): Crockpot Sloppy Joes:

  • 2 lbs ground beef (or half beef, half ground sausage if you like it richer)
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped (or 1–2 pearl onions, minced, if you want to use your fresh ones)
  • 1 bell pepper, chopped (optional but good for bulk & flavor)
  • 2 cans sloppy joe sauce, or you can make your own if you are feeling ambitious

🌞

Monday (Reserve): sloppy joe left overs, or tangy over buttered noodles so yum!

Tuesday (Cook): Crockpot Salsa Chicken (shred a big batch)

  • Serve: w/ pasta side.
  • Reserve ideas: chicken wraps, chicken rice bowls, chicken nachos, salsa pizza (premade crust).

Wednesday (Reserve): Leftovers or “pantry day” → sausages, eggs, or odds & ends.

Thursday (Cook): Ground Beef Dinner (easy mid-week)

  • Option A: Homemade Hamburger Helper (one pot)
  • Option B: Beef + Rice skillet (seasoned like dirty rice or taco-style).
  • Reserves: beef wraps, stuffed peppers, or mixed into scrambled eggs.

Friday (Reserve): Leftovers (ground beef meal or BBQ chicken).

✅ All cook days = make enough to stretch at least 1–2 more meals.
✅ Fresh tomatoes & pearl onions featured in Week 1 Tuesday + Wednesday.
✅ BBQ + crockpot dishes carry flavor without oven time.
✅ Balanced “heavy / lighter” flow so you don’t feel bogged down.
This is everything you need for 1 meal every day which is about all I manage. If you manage more, try some fresh fruit and cereal. If you manage THAT then clearly you don’t need me I should be learning from you LOL. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

Wk 23& 24 Groceries
Wk 23 & 24 recipes
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Shaping Ashes

JoLeave a comment

I sift through the wreckage,
fingers brushing charred edges,
pulling out fragments
of what the fire left behind.

Some are sharp,
splinters that cut on contact.
Others collapse in my hands,
soft with soot,
once solid, now hollowed out.

This fire was not born of one spark.
I see my own missteps scattered here—
moments I ignored the smoke,
choices that poured fuel instead of water.
But I also see the hands of others,
striking matches, fanning flames.
No single villain,
no spotless hero—
just a circle of imperfect people
watching it all burn.

The silence after is louder than the fire.
It presses against my ribs,
settles in my lungs,
leaves me ash-choked and trembling.

Still, I gather what I can carry.
The pieces are heavy with grief,
stitched with blame,
but they also whisper of what might be.

And I sit among the ashes,
palms full of what broke,
and I begin—
not with fire or fury,
but with gentleness,
coaxing beauty from the ruins
the way new shoots rise
through softened earth.
on the edge of painful but hopeful,
there’s a fragile kind of light.
tender hope, bruised but unbroken,
because survival is its own kind of pretty.

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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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Medication Management When You Have More Than One Diagnosis

JoLeave a comment

Navigating medication when you live with multiple diagnoses—like ADHD, bipolar disorder, and fibromyalgia—feels less like healthcare and more like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube in the dark. Upside down. While juggling. There’s always a new prescription, a dosage change, or a side effect surprise. Add in the fact that I’m a mom, recently had hip surgery, and sometimes just plain forget things (hello, ADHD brain), and it’s a wonder I manage at all.

1. Keeping Track Is Basically a Full-Time Job

I’ve tried everything: pill organizers, phone alarms, sticky notes, calendar reminders. Some weeks, I’m a medication goddess. Other weeks, I realize at 3 p.m. that my morning meds are still sitting on the counter untouched. According to the CDC, about 50% of people with chronic illnesses don’t take their meds exactly as prescribed—so apparently I’m in good (if frustrated) company. I employ a triple check system, because I have a problem with short term memory, so I had a few times gotten confused and taken morning pills twice. Now I have an organizer, take them at designated time, and old school write it down on the really bad days.

And ADHD doesn’t help. Sometimes I forget to refill my prescription entirely, which means pharmacy texts have become my unofficial accountability partner.

2. Doctors Don’t Always See the Whole Picture

Every specialist has their own tunnel vision. My psychiatrist cares about mood stability, my rheumatologist about pain, and my primary care about blood pressure and labs. Rarely do they connect the dots between all of them. That’s on me.

I keep an updated list of every med, dose, and timing on my phone ON TOP OF the primary care doc who is supposed to monitor my meds. It’s not foolproof, but it’s saved me more than once when someone said, “Wait, you’re taking that too?” I sometimes wish my doctors had a group chat—but since that’s not happening, I play coordinator.

3. Side Effects and Interactions: The Uninvited Guests

Adding a new med always feels like a game of roulette. Will this one help? Will it mess up something else? Once, I started a pain medication that made my bipolar symptoms spiral. (Fun surprise. 0/10, do not recommend.) Recently I was talking to a new psych doc and SHE told me that I shouldnt take a med that I guess has an affect on people with CKD and my numbers put me right at the beginning of that. And yet neither the doc that prescribed the med nor any doc I have talked to ever said anything about it and I’ve been on it well over a year.

Fact check: studies show up to 30% of adults on multiple medications experience interactions or side effects significant enough to affect daily life. No wonder I sometimes feel like I’m trading one problem for another.

4. Forgiving Myself for the Fumbles



(I am SO excited football is back on, my Sundays have purpose now so excuse my metaphors lol)

Missed doses happen. Taking the night meds in the morning happens. Once I even double-dosed my muscle relaxer and took the best nap of my life (not ideal, but at least memorable).

I used to beat myself up for every mistake. Now I remind myself: this is hard, and I’m doing the best I can. Systems help, but expecting perfection is just setting myself up for failure. Its important to be dilligent and well informed and trying your best where meds are concerned but you will make mistakes, we all make mistakes so just be gentle with yourself.

5. Advocacy and Asking for Help

I’ve learned to speak up more at appointments, to say, “This isn’t working” without guilt. Being able to leave a message in the portal helps the minor hiccups I’ve had, but be honest with yourself and your doctor, because if you can’t take a med they might be able to give you another med that works just as good. I’ve asked my pharmacist about interactions that my doctors overlooked. And yes, sometimes I ask my teen to double-check if I actually swallowed my pills. Around here, med management is a team sport.

Final Thoughts

Managing meds with multiple diagnoses isn’t simple—it’s messy, frustrating, and often overwhelming. But with humor, alarms, sticky notes, family backup, and a good dose of self-compassion, I somehow keep moving forward. If you’re in the same boat, you’re not alone. We’re all just out here trying to make the chaos work. Til 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.