Tag: writing

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When the Holidays Are Loud Everywhere Except Your House

JoLeave a comment

The holidays are noisy.
Not just with music and parties and people — but with proof. Proof that everyone else seems to be gathering, hosting, laughing, overflowing.

And then there’s your house.
Quiet. Still. Too still.

You can be grateful and lonely at the same time. Those aren’t opposites — they’re roommates who don’t speak to each other.

You can know you’re lucky, blessed, resourced, safe…
and still feel like something essential is missing. Like the volume of the world has been turned up everywhere else and muted where you are.

That disconnect messes with your head.

Because the messaging is relentless:

  • Be thankful.
  • Cherish this season.
  • Soak it all in.

But what if there isn’t much to soak in?
What if you’re not ungrateful — you’re just alone?

There’s a particular kind of loneliness that shows up during the holidays.
Not the dramatic kind.
The quiet, creeping kind that makes you feel unworthy of love, like if you were easier, better, less broken, someone would be here.

And that’s the lie.

The truth is:
Holidays magnify absence. They don’t create it.

Estrangement, distance, grief, illness, burnout — all the things you’ve been surviving all year don’t suddenly take December off. They just get wrapped in twinkle lights and judged harder.

If your house is quiet this season, it doesn’t mean you failed.
It doesn’t mean you’re unlovable.
It doesn’t mean you did something wrong.

It just means this season is asking something different of you.

Maybe survival instead of celebration.
Gentleness instead of gratitude lists.
Presence instead of performance.

You don’t have to force joy to prove you’re okay.
You don’t have to fake cheer to earn rest.
And you don’t have to minimize your pain just because someone else has it worse.

If the holidays are loud everywhere except your house —
your quiet is still allowed.
Your sadness still counts.
And you are still worthy of love, even when no one shows up with cookies and matching pajamas.

Sometimes getting through is enough.
Sometimes staying soft in a loud world is the bravest thing you’ll do all season. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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7 Small Wins That Totally Count as Achievements in The Holiday Season

JoLeave a comment

Listen… December is basically the season finale of the year, and my brain is running on whatever scraps of battery life it can find between the couch cushions. So instead of pretending I’m a fully optimized human being, I’m embracing the tiny victories — the ones that actually count.

Because if December can be dramatic?
I can be delusional in a way that helps my self-esteem.

We all know (and we’ve talked about) December is an energy zapper so here are 7 small wins that absolutely deserve applause, confetti, or at least a slow clap from someone who isn’t judging your life choices:

1. Getting dressed in something that isn’t your “I Give Up” sweatpants

Bonus points if the outfit has textures like velvet and lace, because then you’re basically cosplaying as an enchanted woodland witch who is absolutely doing her best. I’m a cross between Stevie Nicks and a victorian ghost as far as style goes. I want people to see me and feel the energy shift because I am all about delivering the good vibes.

2. Remembering one (1) single appointment

In December? That’s Nobel Prize-level discipline. Congratulations on defeating the Calendar Boss. The other appointments are jealous but hey, you crushed that lunch date.

3. Feeding yourself something other than peppermint bark

Double win if it was an actual meal. Triple win if you didn’t eat it standing in the kitchen like a tired Victorian ghost. I want people to know I am absolutely not going to be a quiet ghost. No slipping in or out of places unnoticed. I’m going to be LOUD, think of my entrances and exits to resemble Kramer’s from Seinfeld.

4. Wrapping at least one gift without crying

Or using a gift bag instead of trying to precision-fold paper like Martha Stewart with a migraine. Embrace the bag. The bag is your friend. I havent wrapped a gift in forever, the muscle memory is gone.

5. Making it through a school concert, holiday party, or work event

Even if your soul left your body three minutes in, you showed up. Gold star. I make disassociating an Olympics level sport. If you see me at an event, think of that as a premeeting and I’ll be asking all my follow up questions when I see you next and might lag on a convo or two while my brain is processing.

6. Saying “no” to something your body and brain didn’t have the spoons for

This is Advanced Seasonal Adulting™. Look at you, protecting your peace like a tiny holiday dragon guarding its hoard. I will protect my peace, because I have to listen to me when everything is quiet.

7. Remembering joy is allowed to be small right now

A quiet night. A cup of cocoa. A silly ornament. Five minutes under a blanket with the lights off. Its unreal how long I could sit and watch the tree change color while memories play like a slideshow in my head.
Tiny joy counts — especially when December tries to steamroll you.

If you’ve done even one of these things?
You’re winning. Seriously. December doesn’t want us to succeed, and yet here we are — thriving at a very reasonable, spoon-conscious pace. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other. Holiday greetings from George!)

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A Message To My Friends

JoLeave a comment

Hi friends! If your reading this, you are a friend. As all of you know, I do have a chronic illness, in fact a number of them lol, but you all know this season zaps even the best of us. As I have detailed here, December tends to hit my body and brain like they’re part of an obstacle course on a game show I never signed up for. And when you’re running full throttle and still falling short, something’s gotta give.

I don’t want to fall short here, especially because none of you are demanding anything from me. I can practically hear you saying, “We know all this,” with a dramatic eye roll (mostly my teen doing the heavy eye-rolling, let’s be honest — the rest of you are far too polite)

So here’s the deal: while I’ll absolutely keep sharing my random stories, chaotic life lessons, and general nonsense you didn’t ask for but still graciously read, I’m hitting pause on the menu/recipe posts until the week after Christmas. The holidays take a lot out of me, and if I don’t give myself extra gentleness, I end up wobbling like a Jenga tower in a windstorm.

That said, don’t be shocked if a cookie recipe sneaks its way in — December is long, and sometimes sugar is a coping mechanism. And for those of you navigating estrangement or heavy emotions this time of year, you get it. This season gets to the best of us… and I am very much not the best of us, so it does a number on me.

Thanks for sticking around, for reading, for being here. I appreciate you more than you know.
There will be a George update soon as there is a family of them outside my window. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, for real be extra kind to yourselves, and each other!

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Times My ADHD Turns Into a Whole Side Quest Every December

JoLeave a comment

Because nothing says “holiday spirit” like getting distracted by something shiny for 47 minutes.

1. When I go to wrap gifts and spend 20 minutes relearning how tape works.

I came here to be festive. I left with tape stuck to my elbow like a badge of incompetence. How’d it get on the cat?

2. When “cleaning for guests” becomes reorganizing a single drawer I haven’t opened since July.

Sure, the rest of the house is still a disaster, but hey — that one drawer is thriving. Bonus point if its a summer clothes drawer because of course I’m behind a whole season.

3. When I open my phone to check the weather and somehow end up reading a deep-dive on Victorian Christmas fruitcake crimes.

Do I know tomorrow’s temperature? Of course not.
Do I know 1800s pastry drama? Absolutely. Internet rabbit holes are my favorite places to spend time I should be using productively on something.

4. When I try to buy stocking stuffers but spend 40 minutes choosing between two nearly identical candles.

Both smell like cinnamon. Both smell like trauma. Why am I like this. I think part of my indecisive freeze up is the overwhelm of smells in that aisle.

5. When I start writing holiday cards and immediately get sucked into redesigning my handwriting.

Suddenly I’m practicing calligraphy like I’m auditioning for the Royal Court. My third cousin will appreciate the readable penmanship and heart doodles.

6. When I go to put leftovers away and end up cleaning the fridge shelf by shelf.

Because obviously THIS was the moment to reevaluate every condiment I own. Then get done and wash my hands only to find the thing I was making room for still there.

7. When one holiday decoration is crooked and suddenly I’m redecorating the entire room.

I blinked and now I’m elbow-deep in a “spontaneous redesign.” My ornaments are not hanging in a pleasing order as I am CONSTANTLY trying to rearrange them to ‘balance it out’.

8. When I sit down to finally relax and immediately decide the bookshelf needs color-coordinating.

My brain: “Rest.”
Also my brain: “Or… reorganize your entire personality via shelf.” Its chaos perfectly encapsulates my life.

9. When I go to pee and somehow come back holding a laundry basket, a snack, and the deep realization that time isn’t real.

Classic. And whats best is to sit down and immediately remember I didnt pee.

10. When a simple online search for a gift turns into reading reviews for products I will never buy.

“Why did I just spend five minutes learning about a blender?”

11. When I try to make a to-do list but end up with three half-lists, two doodles, and a sticky note that says ‘???’

A masterpiece of chaos.
Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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Things My Brain Treats Like Optional DLC

JoLeave a comment

Living with Chronic Illness is basically like living with a brain that’s trying its best… but also doing parkour off the furniture. Some days I’m thriving, some days I’m forgetting what I’m doing mid-sentence, and honestly? Most days I’m just negotiating with my own executive function like it’s a hostile coworker. So here’s a little peek behind the curtain: the things my brain treats like optional DLC.

1. Object permanence… most of the time.
If I put it down and walk away, it may as well have been launched into another dimension. Keys, water bottles, important documents — all living their best lives in the ADHD void. Tell me its important, its the surefire way to get me to lose it.

2. Starting tasks? Easy. Finishing them? Bold of you to assume.
I will begin a project with Olympic enthusiasm and then abandon it halfway like a Victorian ghost girl drifting out of a scene. Don’t believe me? My craft desk is currently auditioning for a documentary called ‘When Hobbies Attack.’ Pearls would be clutched. Fainting couches would be used.

3. Time? A concept. A myth. A prank.
Ten minutes feels like an hour, an hour feels like twelve seconds, and deadlines feel like cosmic jokes written specifically for me. I need to get up, says my brain, the laundry should be done. Sure, its done, as is the day, the entire day slipped through my grasp like time itself saw me trying and said, ‘Aw, cute,’ before sprinting off.

4. Noise? Too much. Silence? Also too much.
I am either overstimulated by the faint hum of the fridge or suddenly panicking because the quiet feels suspicious. There is no chill setting. I generally leave the tv on and use the mute button, sometimes I even remember to unmute or unpause (go me)

5. Hyperfocus that appears only for hobbies, never chores.
Ask me to reorganize a shelf for fun? Instant productivity demon. Ask me to fold laundry? My brain blue screens. Meanwhile the laundry is over there quietly becoming part of the home’s structural integrity.

6. Forgetting why I opened a new tab mid-click.
My fingers click “new tab” with confidence. My brain immediately abandons the mission. We will never know what the goal was. This is the thing I hate the most. Yesterday I was at hubby’s desk and he was saying something and I said ‘I’ll go look that up’ and I turned and FELT myself forgetting it, I hadnt made it to the door when I had to turn back around and apologized and asked him to repeat himself.

7. Needing a reward just to take a shower like it’s a game quest.
“+10 XP for personal hygiene. New achievement unlocked: You Finally Did It.”
Honestly, adulting would be easier if life came with a loot box. Honestly, the only thing getting me in that shower is the promise of pajamas immediately after. The shower helps most days its just the act of doing all the things is exhausting.

8. “I’ll do it in a minute” — famous last words.
Because that “minute” might be five hours later… or three to five business days, depending on vibes and moon phases. And if a kid interrupts me? Congratulations, that task has now been postponed indefinitely.

Sure, my brain is a gremlin on roller skates, but honestly? I’m still waking up and doing my best every day. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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🧩 11 Things I’ve Accepted I’ll Never Have Together (And That’s Okay)

JoLeave a comment

There comes a point in every adult’s life where you stop chasing perfection and just start chasing peace.
Mine came somewhere between my third “lost laundry sock” breakdown and realizing that meal planning for the week doesn’t make my brain any less chaotic.

So here are 10 things I’ve fully accepted I’ll never have together — and honestly, I’m fine with it.

1. My Sleep Schedule

Some nights I’m out cold by 9. Other nights, I’m rearranging my thoughts (and furniture) at 2 a.m. Balance? Never met her. My problems are in those wee hours of the morning but my issues are waking up no later than 4, even if I dont fall asleep til 3. Its maddening.

2. Laundry

There’s clean, there’s dirty, and there’s “on that chair I swear I’ll fold tomorrow.”
Spoiler: tomorrow’s been rescheduled indefinitely.

3. My Phone Storage

I can delete exactly 400 screenshots and still have “not enough space.” I think the memes multiply when I’m not looking.

4. Matching Socks

At this point, I’m calling it fashion. If my socks are both clean, that’s a win.

5. My Inbox

Some people zero out their email every night. I zero out emotionally about my email every night.

6. That One Junk Drawer

It’s basically a time capsule for expired batteries and mystery cords from 2008.

7. My Brain’s Tabs

They’re all open. None of them are loading. I’ve accepted it’s just part of my operating system.

8. My To-Do List

For every item I cross off, three new ones appear like hydra heads. Productivity is a myth perpetuated by people with working serotonin.

9. My Diet

Sometimes it’s vegetables and lean protein.
Sometimes it’s cold pizza and vibes.
It’s called balance, baby.

10. The Idea of “Having It Together”

Turns out, nobody does. Some just accessorize their chaos better.
So here’s to letting go, laughing at the mess, and knowing that imperfect is still enough.

11. My Posting Schedule

I love sharing my thoughts and connecting with my community — but some days, the mental energy just isn’t there.
And that’s okay.
Skipping a post doesn’t mean I’m lazy or unreliable; it means I’m human. listicles are just easier to do when your brain wont shut up enough to do any research or even just have the mental capacity for boring depressive stuff. I’m trying to keep it up beat and hold it all together. Sometimes “taking care of business” looks like closing the laptop, eating something carb-loaded, and giving my brain a breather.

💭 Final Thought:

You don’t have to fix everything to be doing okay.
Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do is stop fighting the tide and just float for a bit.Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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10 Times I Should’ve Trusted My Gut

JoLeave a comment

Let’s talk about intuition.
That little voice in your head that says, “Maybe don’t send that text,” or “You don’t actually need to reorganize your pantry at 2 a.m.” For people with Bipolar sometimes that voice gives conflicting advice

Mine’s been screaming for years, but I usually answer with, “Shh, I’m busy ignoring you while doing exactly what you told me not to.”

So, here’s a list of ten times I absolutely should’ve listened to my gut — and how my new pendulum board helps me keep my chaos at least moderately guided now.

1. When I Thought “One More Load of Laundry” Was Harmless

My back disagreed. My spoons evaporated. Should’ve trusted the gut that said, “Sit down, you maniac” and not got back up repeatedly.

2. When I Answered That Text From My Ex

Intuition: “Don’t.”
Me: “Maybe he’s changed!”
Spoiler: He had not.

3. When I Said “Sure, I Can Handle That Project”

What I meant was: “I will spiral into a stress coma and regret everything.” Not sure if thats any illness talking I think we all over promise sometimes, even to ourselves lol.

4. When I Ignored the Weird Rattle in My Car

Turns out the “ghost” was a very real, very expensive muffler issue. Of all the times my gut cost me, this was an EXTRA pricey one lol.
Gut: 1. Me: $600.

5. When I Thought I Could Skip My Meds “Just for a Day”

LOL. Never again. My brain chemistry is not DIY-friendly. Most of them arent shy about telling me I forgot them either. Not just for a day, not even just for an afternoon lol.

6. When I Tried To Explain My Chronic Illness to a Facebook Comment Section

Intuition said log off.
Ego said educate.
Result: chaos and regret.

Lately, I’ve been using this pendulum board I made — not as some mystical fortune-teller thing, but as a quick way to ground myself. Watching it swing back and forth slows my thoughts down enough to actually hear what my gut’s saying.

7. When I Said “It’s Just a Little Pain”

…and three days later I’m Googling “can you die from ignoring your body?”

8. When I Thought “I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead” Was a Vibe

SO MANY people say this! Turns out it’s… not great health advice.

9. When I Ordered the Giant Craft Supply Haul “For Business Purposes”

I mean, it was technically business-related. Just… maybe not this month’s business. Maybe I wanted to not be rude, gotta get something for everybody!

10. When I Ignored My Gut About Taking a Break


(aka any time I have been up out of my chair for over 5 minutes)

Every time I push through instead of pausing, my body yells louder next time.
Now I ask my pendulum, and if it swings toward “Sit down,” I listen.
(Okay, fine, I try to listen.)

🌙 Moral of the Story: Trust Yourself, Babe.

Intuition isn’t mystical nonsense—it’s your nervous system whispering what it already knows.
The pendulum just helps quiet the noise long enough for you to actually hear it.

If you want a gentle nudge toward trusting yourself again (or just something gorgeous and witchy for your nightstand), my new 3D-printed Pendulum Board Kit is going to be perfect for you.
It includes:

  • A black + purple board engraved with intuitive answers
  • A matching pendulum
  • A mini guide for using it (with question prompts!) I can make custom ones with special colors.
    Coming to you in the next few days, keep an eye out for it

✨ Perfect for the overthinker who’s spiritually curious but still skeptical (hi, it’s me). Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and eachother!

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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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7 Conversations I’ve Had With Myself This Week

Jo1 Comment

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

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

1. The Medication Negotiation

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Takes pills]

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

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

2. The Food Decision Paralysis

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

Also me: “Agreed. What do we want?”

Me: “I don’t know, what sounds good?”

Also me: “Nothing sounds good.”

Me: “Okay, what do we HAVE?”

Also me: “Everything and nothing.”

Me: “That’s not helpful.”

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

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

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

Me: “Your point?”

[Grabs bowl]

3. The Task Initiation Battle

Me: “I need to start that thing.”

Also me: “Which thing?”

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

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

Me: “Now. We’re doing it now.”

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

Me: “NO. We’re not doing this.”

Also me: “Just one quick scroll.”

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

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

Me: “They didn’t.”

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

Me: “FINE. Five minutes.”

[Three hours later]

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

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

4. The Sleep Schedule Delusion

Me at 9 PM: “We should go to bed.”

Also me: “But I’m not tired.”

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

Also me: “What if tonight is different?”

Me: “It’s not. Go to bed.”

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

Me: “That has literally never worked.”

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

[At 2 AM]

Me: “I hate us.”

Also me: “Same.”

5. The Executive Function Check-In

Me: “Have we showered today?”

Also me: “…Define ‘today.'”

Me: “The current 24-hour period.”

Also me: “Then no.”

Me: “What about yesterday?”

Also me: “I plead the fifth.”

Me: “We need to shower.”

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

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

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

Me: “Okay I see your point.”

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

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

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

6. The Pain Scale Debate

Me: “Ow.”

Also me: “What’s the pain level?”

Me: “I don’t know, like a 6?”

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

Me: “Good point. Maybe it’s a 5.”

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

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

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

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

Also me: “That sounds like internalized ableism.”

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

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

Me: “…I don’t remember.”

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

7. The Bedtime Existential Crisis

Me at 1 AM: “Why are we like this?”

Also me: “Like what?”

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

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

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

Also me: “Normal people are boring.”

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

Also me: “Okay, fair point.”

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

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

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

Also me: “Is it working?”

Me: “A little.”

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

Me: “We should probably go to sleep.”

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

Me: “We both know that’s a lie.”

Also me: “And yet here we are.”

The Conclusion I Didn’t Ask For

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

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

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

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

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

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

JoLeave a comment

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.