Tag: writing

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

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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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The ADHD Shopping Experience: How I Went for Milk and Came Home with a Succulent, Three Notebooks, and No Milk

JoLeave a comment

A play-by-play of my brain vs. reality, or: Why simple errands are never simple

Setting the Scene: Just need milk. One item. Simple mission. What could possibly go wrong?

In the Parking Lot

ADHD Brain: “Okay, milk. Just milk. Wait, should I make a list? No, it’s just ONE thing. But what if I see something else we need while I’m there? Maybe I should text hubby and ask… no, that’s ridiculous. It’s MILK. But what kind of milk? 2% or whole? Did we discuss this? Should I check the fridge from here? Can’t do that. Focus. MILK. M-I-L-K. Got it.”

Fibromyalgia Body: “Why does every parking space require a trek equivalent to hiking the Appalachian Trail? And why is it windy? Wind makes everything hurt more.”

What Actually Happened: Sat in my car for 5 minutes trying to remember if we needed 2% or whole milk, googled “difference between 2% and whole milk nutritionally” fell down a rabbit hole about dairy farming, got distracted by a text from my mom, completely forgot why I had googled dairy farming, and finally got out of the car having made zero progress on the milk question.

Entering the Store

ADHD Brain: “Straight to dairy section. Do not pass Go. Do not collect impulse purchases. Laser focus. I am a milk-seeking missile.”

Fibromyalgia Body: “Of course I grabbed the cart with the wobbliest wheel in existence. Every step is sending shock waves through my joints. This cart sounds like a dying pterodactyl.”

Bipolar Brain: “Actually, this is kind of fun! Look at all the possibilities! So many choices! I love having choices!”

What Actually Happened: Grabbed the first cart without testing it (rookie mistake), immediately got distracted by the seasonal display of Halloween decorations prominently displayed in August, spent three minutes judging the capitalist machine that pushes holidays earlier each year, then realized I was still standing at the front of the store holding a cart that sounded like it was powered by wounded animals.

Stop #1: The Pharmacy Section

ADHD Brain: “Wait, didn’t I need to pick up that prescription? When was that due? Was it today or tomorrow? Better check while I’m here. Multitasking!”

Fibromyalgia Body: “Standing in lines is torture. Why does every person in front of me have the most complicated prescription issue in pharmacy history?”

What Actually Happened: Joined the pharmacy line without checking if I actually had a prescription ready, discovered I didn’t, but got into a fascinating conversation with the pharmacist about medication timing, learned three new things about drug interactions, forgot why I came to the store entirely, then remembered MILk when I saw the refrigerated section behind the pharmacy counter.

The Succulent Section (How Is This Even a Section?)

ADHD Brain: “Ooh, plants! I could be a plant person! Look at this tiny perfect one – it probably needs rescuing from this fluorescent wasteland. I would give it a good home. I’d name it Gerald. Gerald deserves better than this. I’ll just—NO. MILK. FOCUS. But Gerald is so small and perfect…”

Bipolar Brain (manic whispering): “Plants are scientifically proven to improve mental health! This could be your new hobby! You deserve nice things! Gerald could be the first of many! Think of the Instagram potential!”

Fibromyalgia Body: “Bending over to look at these tiny plants is making my back scream, but Gerald IS pretty cute…”

What Actually Happened: Bought four succulents (Gerald, Susan, Peter,and one I didn’t name because I was trying to show restraint), plus a decorative pot that cost more than the plants, and mentally planned their placement in every room of my house despite historically being a plant serial killer.

Stop #2: The Drive-Through Coffee (Because Obviously)

ADHD Brain: “I should get coffee for this epic grocery mission. Caffeine will help me focus on the milk objective. This is strategic, not procrastination.”

Fibromyalgia Body: “My head is starting to hurt. Coffee will help. Coffee fixes everything.”

Bipolar Brain: “Treat yourself! You’re doing great! You deserve a fancy drink!”

What Actually Happened: Ordered a complicated seasonal latte, paid for it, thanked the barista, drove off immediately, got three blocks away before realizing I never actually received my coffee, circled back through the drive-through again to explain my ADHD brain to a confused teenager, got my coffee and a pitying look, then sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes mentally writing this exact blog post.

The Notebook Aisle (My Natural Habitat)

ADHD Brain: “These are on SALE! I always need notebooks! What if I run out of places to write my brilliant thoughts? What if this specific type gets discontinued forever and I never find another notebook that feels this perfect in my hands? This is an INVESTMENT.”

Bipolar Brain: “Look at all these possibilities! You could start journaling again! Or write that novel! Or organize your life! Each notebook could be a fresh start!”

What Actually Happened: Bought notebooks in three different sizes for “different purposes” – one for grocery lists (ironic, considering), one for “important thoughts,” and one for daily planning that I’ll definitely use this time, unlike the other twelve identical notebooks at home. Spent fifteen minutes arranging them in my cart by color.

At Checkout

ADHD Brain: “Mission accomplished! Wait… what was my mission? Milk! Did I get milk? I feel like I’m forgetting something important. Why do I have plants? OH RIGHT, Gerald!”

Fibromyalgia Body: “Why is this checkout line moving so slowly? My feet are killing me. Should have gotten a scooter cart.”

Cashier: “Did you find everything you needed today?”

Me: “Everything except what I came for!”

What Actually Happened: Paid $47 for succulents, notebooks, Halloween candy (forgot to mention grabbing that), fancy soap that “smelled like my childhood,” and a magazine about organizing your life. No milk. Not even close to milk.

Back Home

Family: “Did you get milk?”

Me: “I got… life lessons? And Gerald.”

Family: “Who’s Gerald?”

Me: “My new succulent son. Also, we still need milk.”

ADHD Brain: “But look how happy Gerald looks on the windowsill! This was basically a success!”

The Moral of the Story: Sometimes the journey is more important than the destination. Sometimes that journey involves adopting plant children and buying notebooks you don’t need. And sometimes you just have to go back to the store tomorrow for milk, but with Gerald watching over you from his new pot. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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Survival & Sanity Menu (Weeks 19 & 20)

JoLeave a comment

It’s been hot, it’s going to stay hot, and short of moving into your freezer with the ice cream, there’s not much we can do about it. What we can do is make sure dinner doesn’t turn the kitchen into a sauna you never asked for. This week’s menu is built to keep the oven off, the heat low, and your sanity intact — because sweating over a stove in August should be considered a human rights violation.

We’re talking meals that are light on effort, big on flavor, and won’t have you washing a sink full of dishes in what feels like the Sahara. Whether you’re a crockpot devotee, a “throw it all in a skillet and call it good” person, or someone who just wants to avoid boiling anything for more than three minutes, there’s something here to help make this endless summer suck a little less.

Week 19

Tuesday – Salsa Chicken (Crockpot)
Chicken breasts, jar of salsa, packet of taco seasoning—dump, cook, shred, serve. We love this over rice or wrapped in tortillas.


Thursday – Meatballs in Grape Jelly BBQ Sauce (Crockpot)
Yes, it sounds weird. Yes, it’s delicious. Serve over buttered noodles for maximum comfort.
Sunday – Pasta with Meat Sauce
Brown ground beef, add jarred marinara, simmer, and serve over pasta. Garlic bread optional but encouraged.

Week 20

Tuesday – Sausage & Potato Skillet
Toss smoked sausage slices, chopped potatoes, and your choice of veggies in olive oil and seasoning. Fry until golden.
Thursday – Crockpot BBQ Pulled Pork Sandwiches
Pork roast + BBQ sauce in the crockpot all day = sandwich heaven. Serve with chips or a quick salad.
Sunday – Breakfast for Dinner
Eggs, sausage, and toast—simple, quick, and always a crowd-pleaser.

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

Shopping List
Recipes
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The Autistic Teen Whisperer: A Nature Documentary of My Life

JoLeave a comment

Narrated in the voice of a tired, sarcastic mom with a deep love for her elusive, unpredictable, and absolutely incredible child.

INT. KITCHEN – EARLY MORNING
Cue dramatic voiceover, à la David Attenborough:
“If we are quiet… very quiet… we may catch a glimpse of the elusive Autistic Teen in her natural habitat. There! A flash of movement, a hoodie, mismatched socks. Blink and she’s gone. Out the door before the sun can fully rise, leaving behind toast crumbs and an emotional riddle.”

Welcome to the wild world of neurodivergent parenting. I’m your guide, an exhausted mom attempting to decode the rituals, migrations, and sensory triggers of my favorite wild animal: my teenager.

The Habitat

The Autistic Teen typically roams the house after 10 PM, nesting primarily in her bedroom—curated with LED lights, noise-canceling headphones, and Very Specific Textures. Her room is both her sanctuary and her command center, and entering without knocking is a rookie mistake you only make once.

Adaptations observed:

  • Can detect the faintest flicker of a light bulb in another room.
  • Has strong opinions about the temperature and humidity level of her socks.
  • Stores snacks in unexpected places. Foraging is an art.

The Communication Rituals

Communication with the Autistic Teen requires finesse, timing, and a willingness to interpret non-verbal cues like you’re deciphering ancient cave drawings.

“Grunts and eyerolls may seem dismissive, but are often affectionate. Do not be discouraged. Watch for signs of engagement: a shared meme, a spontaneous info-dump about planes. These are golden opportunities.”

Sometimes we exchange whole conversations in Minecraft metaphors or sarcastic cat videos. Sometimes, the best thing I can do is sit quietly nearby and let her stim in peace.

Feeding Habits

“Observe the complex dietary preferences of the adolescent: cereal at 10 PM, pop tart at 7 AM, and a complete disregard for the food pyramid.”

She has strong food aversions and sacred favorites. I’ve learned the hard way not to mess with the shape of the nuggets or the brand of the mac and cheese. When in doubt: beige, crunchy, and emotionally comforting.

As her caregiver and personal short-order chef, I’ve adjusted. I stock the sensory-safe foods, experiment with new ones slowly, and always, always have backup pop tarts.

Daily Migration Patterns

Between school, stimming breaks, and doomscrolling, her internal compass doesn’t follow a standard map. There is no “typical” day. But I’ve learned to track her rhythms:

  • Mornings: silent, hoodie up, minimal communication.
  • Afternoons: decompressing with art or YouTube rabbit holes.
  • Evenings: bursts of creativity, hyperfocus, or emotional monsoons.

Every day is an expedition. Sometimes I’m chasing her needs through sensory jungles. Other times, I just try to not mess up her flow.

Challenges in the Wild

Sometimes we clash. My ADHD brain is loud, scattered, and constantly shifting. Her autistic brain is methodical, specific, and easily overwhelmed by chaos. We are two storms learning to move together without wrecking each other.

I talk too much. She gets overwhelmed by too many words. I need novelty. She needs routine. It’s not always elegant, but it’s always ours.

The Mutual Bonding Ritual

The bond between Whisperer and Teen is strong, even if it doesn’t always look that way from the outside. We’ve developed our own language—half memes, half silence, all love. She knows I see her. She knows I’m trying. And I know that even when she disappears into her own world, she leaves the door open a crack.

Sometimes I catch her watching me with a mix of exasperation and affection.
Sometimes she randomly tells me a fact about spiders or space or mental health that makes me cry with pride.
Sometimes she texts me from her room to say, “thanks for not being annoying today.”

I count that as a win.

Closing Narration

“In the end, the Autistic Teen and her Whisperer coexist not because they are the same, but because they’ve learned to honor their differences. In this ecosystem of stims and structure, meltdowns and memes, they survive—beautifully.”

This isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about showing up anyway, even when the jungle is loud, the routines are broken, and the brain fog is real.

Because love, it turns out, is the greatest adaptation of all. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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Lessons from a Neurospicy Household

Jo1 Comment

(Or: Things I’ve Learned the Hard Way and Now Pass Off as Wisdom)

1️⃣ If you open the dishwasher to “just add one thing,” congratulations. You now live here.
Ownership transfers upon entry. If you can’t fill it, go check your room. I know you dont eat in there as a general rule but go look and see if the random missing spoon is hanging out with the stray socks in their hideout.

2️⃣ “We’ll deal with it later” is a valid strategy until further notice.
No one said when later is. Legally, you’re covered. Until 5 pm when all the things you were going to do catch up and your teenager is asking why something isnt done to their exacting standards.

3️⃣ Matching socks are a social construct.
As are bedtimes, sanity, and tidy junk drawers. For socks, maybe track some other missing stuff (like the spoon from before), I swear theres a Narnia or hiding dimension.

4️⃣ No one has ever truly recovered from stepping on a rogue Lego.
We carry these wounds in silence. And orthopedic inserts. My kitty in the sky Bonkers used to sleep on them, a full bucket without the lid, weirdo. Miss you little dude but thanks for sending me Fryday who amuses me endlessly, but I still miss you!

5️⃣ If you set something down ‘just for a second,’ it’s gone forever.
Gone to the shadow realm. Gone where keys and pens go to die. See narnia, also with socks and spoons. And the tupperware lids vs tupperware ratio is always uneven so I blame them too.

6️⃣ Your brain will retain the lyrics to a 1997 boy band hit but not why you walked into the room.
Priorities. We don’t make the rules. Its tearing up my heart that you don’t ‘remember the time’ you walked into a room and left with exactly what you walked in there for but honestly ‘bye bye bye’ to that dream because honestly we’re ‘never gonna get it no never gonna get it’

7️⃣ Snacks are sacred.
Do not touch another’s designated snack without first drafting a formal agreement and receiving notarized consent. I think it sucks so much worse when you crave a texture and have no food with that texture available. Like I hate it when I bring home fresh baked goods because I can only eat one every few days or I forget its there. I MIGHT get one. Vultures.

8️⃣ If the ADHD person in your house starts cleaning, DO NOT INTERRUPT.
You’re witnessing a natural phenomenon rarer than a solar eclipse. Often whats good is pulling up a rag and joining them, not that you need to do any of the cleaning, they’ll do it but they will do it alot faster if you join them.

9️⃣ We don’t do ‘normal’ here.
We tried. It was exhausting. Weird is cheaper and fits better. I have discussed this at length, I know the name is deceiving because I love being weird and don’t want any part of me normal lol. There was a time I did strive to an impossibly high level too. That me burned herself out a decade ago.

🔟 The motto remains: Lower the bar, keep the vibe.
Survival with style. That’s the goal. Often its just survival.

Closing Thought:

Some houses run on routine, others run on vibes and caffeine.
Guess which one we are. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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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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Top 10 Things I’ve Googled This Week as a Chronically Ill, Neurospicy Parent

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(aka “This Is Not a Cry for Help, But Also… Send Snacks?”)

  • “Why does my hip make that sound?”
    Its not so much a pop as it is a crackle, I feel like the Rice Crispies guys are hiding somewhere.
  • “How to explain sarcasm to a teenager who is now more sarcastic than me”
    It took forever for her to ‘get it’ (she’d say, is that sarcasm? every time we laugh at a joke) now she is almost more sarcastic than me. Almost lol.
  • “Can I survive on toaster waffles and spite?”
    No? Coca cola and contempt? Those are my wheelhouse.
  • “What does executive dysfunction look like in adults asking for a friend (it’s me)”
    Pretty sure I dissociated so hard I time-traveled. I came to around dinner like, wait… where did the day go?
  • “Symptoms of burnout vs laziness vs demonic possession”
    Spoiler: It was burnout. But let’s be honest, if a demon was possessing me, they’d at least fold the laundry

  • “How to nicely ask your teen to shower without being emotionally attacked”
    “I tried ‘Would you like a shower now or in 10 minutes?’ and still got hit with the emotional equivalent of a boss battle I didn’t consent to

  • “How long is too long to wait for meds to kick in before giving up on the day?”
    Asking for science. But also for vibes. Because the vibes are off and so is my serotonin.
  • “How to turn rage-cleaning into a workout”
    If slamming laundry baskets and scrubbing with vengeance burned calories, I’d be shredded by now.
  • “Can fidget toys fix my life or is that false advertising?”
    Look, they may not fix it — but they do keep me from sending That Text™ or scream-cleaning my kitchen.
  • “Is it normal to cry over spilled resin?”
    Normal? No clue. But between the cost, the smell, and the emotional spiral? Yeah. Very on brand.


Living with chronic illness, ADHD, and a teenager is like being the main character in a sitcom written by the universe when it was feeling particularly chaotic. But hey — at least I’m not boring.

BRB, googling if emotional support waffles are a thing. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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My Brain Buffering: A Love Letter to the Thoughts I Forgot Mid-Sentence

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Let’s be honest: if forgetting what you were saying mid-thought was an Olympic sport, I’d have gold medals in every category. Freestyle Rambling. Synchronized Brain Fog. And my personal favorite: Disappearing Train of Thought With a Triple Mental Backflip.

People say “don’t be so hard on yourself,” and I’m like—buddy, I’m not. I’m just trying to remember what I came into this room for. And repeatedly. I’m not being ‘so hard’ on myself, I’d say I’m at least the appropriate level of hardness if not under lol

Somewhere between ADHD, fibromyalgia fog, bipolar whiplash, and a few hundred browser tabs in my brain, my inner monologue starts to sound like a dial-up modem trying to load a YouTube video. In 2003. On satellite internet. In a thunderstorm. A mile and a half down a country dirt road where theres NOTHING for miles

🧠 Exhibit A: “What Was I Saying?”

It’s not even a joke anymore. I’ll be mid-conversation, completely coherent, and suddenly—boom. Blank screen. I can literally see the words running off a cliff like cartoon lemmings.

“Wait—what was I saying?”

No really. What was I saying? I know its annoying to you, do you know how annoying it is and how much I absolutely hate the part of my brain thats supposed to remember things? Me and my brain are in an absolute love/hate relationship and we are definitely in our Hate each other era.

🤯 Fibro Fog: Not Just a Myth, Unfortunately

If you’ve never tried to function while your entire nervous system is on delay like it’s waiting for subtitles, congratulations—you’re not me. Fibro fog isn’t just forgetfulness. It’s walking into a room and standing there like you’re the main character in a slow-motion scene… except no one yelled “Action,” and you definitely missed your cue.

My body hurts, my thoughts hurt, my hair hurts, and occasionally my elbow forgets how to be an elbow. But hey, at least I still remember none of my passwords!

🎢 Bipolar Bonus: Now With Extra Whiplash!

Imagine being hyperfocused on color-coding your sock drawer one minute, then sobbing because your spoon fell on the floor the next. Now toss in some guilt about not replying to texts from 2017, and you’ve got the Bipolar Expansion Pack.

Highs that make you reorganize your pantry at 2 a.m., lows that make brushing your hair feel like a heroic feat. All while your memory plays musical chairs.

💁‍♀️ So What’s the Point?

The point is: if you’re out here trying your best with a glitchy brain, a misfiring mood system, and a body that acts like it was coded in beta—you’re not alone. You’re in deeply relatable, exhausted, beautifully chaotic company.

Some days I cry over spilled plans. Some days I laugh at my own internal commentary. And most days, I absolutely forget what I was saying.

But I’m still here. Still making stuff. Still showing up. Even if it’s ten minutes late and I forgot to put on pants. Til next time guys, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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10 Mental Health Truths I Wish I Could Return for Store Credit

Jo1 Comment

Look, I’ve learned a lot on this magical, chaotic, sometimes-on-fire journey called mental health. Some of it has been helpful. Some of it has been… character-building. And some of it? Honestly? I’d like to return. No receipt. No questions asked.

So here they are: the Extremely Official, Totally Relatable truths I’ve collected while navigating ADHD, bipolar disorder, fibromyalgia, and the delightful rollercoaster of chronic illness and healing. May they make you laugh, cry-laugh, or at least feel seen.

1. Hyperfocus Is Basically Time Travel, but for Grown-Ups with Deadlines

You sit down to answer one email and suddenly it’s 3:47 AM, you’ve organized your entire digital photo archive by vibe, and your actual to-do list is untouched.
Ask me how I ended up rearranging pintrest pins instead of posting this post I’d already written lol.

2. Fibro Fog Is Just Nature’s Way of Saying ‘You Didn’t Need That Thought Anyway’

What was I saying?
Seriously though — memory glitches, word loss, and that feeling of trying to think through molasses? Welcome to chronic illness.
The word loss alone is going to end up hospitalizing me lol I swear nothing aggravates me as much as forgetting a work I can SEE in my head!

3. Manic Cleaning Sprees Are Not the Same as Stability

Sure, the baseboards are spotless, but also I haven’t eaten in 14 hours and I’m crying because I accidentally broke a plastic fork. Balanced, right?

4. My Thermostat Is Broken and So Am I

One minute I’m freezing, the next I’m sweating like I ran a marathon in a snowsuit. Is it ADHD? Bipolar? Perimenopause? Chronic illness roulette? Who knows.
All I know is that my house is 70 degrees and I am 100% not okay.

5. “Self-Care” Can Feel Like a Full-Time Job I’m Bad At

Some days self-care is a bubble bath and deep breathing.
Other days it’s canceling everything, laying facedown, and rage-scrolling memes until I feel slightly less like a soggy tissue.

6. Rest Guilt Is Real

If I lie down, I feel guilty.
If I don’t lie down, my body throws a full tantrum.
Either way, I lose — and my couch wins.

7. “You Seem Fine” Is the Greatest Lie Ever Told

I’ve smiled through panic attacks. I’ve small-talked while dissociating. I’ve joked my way through days that felt like molasses dipped in dread.
Trust me — looking fine is a survival tactic, not a wellness update.

8. Executive Dysfunction Is Not Laziness. I’d LOVE to Do the Thing. I Just… Can’t.

Making a phone call, doing the dishes, starting a task — sometimes it feels like standing at the bottom of a mountain with no ropes, no snacks, and brain fog rolling in fast.

9. Chronic Illness and Mental Health Issues Rarely RSVP — They Just Show Up and Rearrange the Furniture

Plans? Canceled. Energy? Randomized.
And trying to explain why today’s “bad” looks totally different than yesterday’s? Exhausting.

10. Humor Isn’t a Coping Mechanism. It’s a Survival Skill.

If you can’t laugh at this mess, you’ll drown in it.
So yes, I make sarcastic jokes, weird art, and trays that say things like “mentally chill” or “still here, still weird.”
Because some days, that little spark of laughter is what gets me through — and maybe it’ll help someone else, too.

🎁 P.S. Wanna Carry This Energy Home?

If you made it this far, you’re clearly my people. I make handmade trays, keychains, and small gifts designed for overwhelmed brains, messy moods, and healing hearts.
https://www.etsy.com/shop/JoknowsCreations
Come browse the chaos collection — snark included at no extra cost. Til next time gang, 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.