End of August Update August always weighs on me. My birthday sits in the same week as the memory of my grandfather’s passing, and that combination pulls me between joy and grief in a way that my body can’t always process. It feels like buzzing under my skin—like my nerves are carrying too much information at once. Sometimes I sweat when no one else is hot, or everything sounds like it’s happening at the same volume, and my body just says, enough. Turning 36 brought mixed emotions. I don’t feel like I’ve “arrived” anywhere in life, and my brain often tells me I should be further ahead. But when I look at the reality, I’ve survived so much. My autistic brain and body make everyday things harder—like interruptions at work that completely throw me off, or noise in the store that makes me lose my focus instantly. Even something as simple as trying to reset after being pulled away feels impossible some days. Still, I made it through, and that counts for more...

Today, I’m sharing a deeply personal moment of grief and memory. It’s about Papa, his favorite dessert, and how I experienced a wave of emotions I wasn’t ready for. This is written from my autistic perspective, and I hope it gives insight into the ways love, loss, and support show up in my life. Note for neurotypical readers: This post shares the deep sensory and emotional experience of an autistic person remembering a loved one. The intensity may be unfamiliar if you haven’t experienced grief in this way. Another Bite, Another Wave Jennifer gave me this banana pudding at my therapy session today. I only managed four bites before I started crying. Why does this taste so much like him? Miranda had to get my spoon and help me calm down while I sat there, trying to eat. She stayed by my side, quietly supporting me, helping me breathe through the overwhelming mix of grief and memory. Each bite felt heavier than the last, yet somehow comforting...

There are some things that are hard to say out loud, so I’m writing them here. This is something I’ve been wanting to tell my best friend, Miranda — the person who has been my anchor, my protector, and one of the biggest blessings in my life. A Letter to Miranda Miranda, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this fully, but you’ve been one of the biggest blessings in my life. When I needed an emergency contact for my safety plan, you didn’t even hesitate—you volunteered without a second thought. That moment told me everything about the kind of friend you are. You’ve always been my protector, my bestie, my anchor when I feel like I’m slipping. Because of you, I went back to therapy. Because of you, I sought out my second autism assessment. Because of you, I got reconnected with a psychiatrist, got back on medication, and started to believe I was worth more than just surviving. Honestly, if I hadn’t met you, I don’t thi...

Xander and the Soda Can of Doom Picture it: O’Reilly’s, August 23, 2025, Saturday, 2:35pm. Xander walks up holding a can of Dr. Pepper and asks if I had shaken it. I said no. Then he asked John if I had. Like he didn’t believe me. How could he doubt me? I would never. So I said, “Let me see it.” He hands me the can, and I shake it like the gremlin I am, then hand it back and walk away giggling. Moral of the story: Don’t mess with the autism, or you’ll get the gremlin. – Signed, Your Resident Work Gremlin

The Birthday Ambush Yesterday, when I first got to work at O’Reilly’s, I could tell something was up. Miranda and John were laughing, giggling, and cutting up. I watched them like a hawk, not taking my eyes off of them. They both tried to scare me—sneaking up behind me and shouting “Happy Birthday!” really loud, with Miranda filming it. I still jumped—loud noises startle me—but I was ready. Even in that chaotic moment, I felt safe, playful, and connected. Playful bonding Playful interactions with people I trust can be both exhilarating and grounding. I don’t have to suppress my startle response to enjoy connection. Embracing joy safely Humor, playful banter, and safe surprises can help release stress and strengthen relationships. I can lean into these moments as part of my self-regulation.

Learning to Live With Support Some days are still hard Some days are still incredibly hard. Meltdowns hit hard, and shutdowns still feel unbearable at times. But over the past months, I’ve noticed they’re happening less often—and that’s progress I’m grateful for. Therapy and medication are helping me navigate life more steadily. Frustration about the past I still feel frustration when I think about not knowing I was autistic as a child. The support I could have had then might have made things easier. But there’s nothing I can do about the past. What matters now is how I move forward. Building my own support network I’ve started building my own support network: my therapist and psychiatrist, my chosen family, and friends like Miranda and John. These people are my anchors—they help me regulate, feel safe, and remind me that life, while challenging, can be manageable. Finding balance and acceptance Life isn’t going to be a cakewalk, and ...

Through the Spectrum The night began calm, steady — just the hum of the lights above, the familiar beep of the scanner, shelves stacked neatly in their rows. I felt present, grounded, breathing slow and even. But the calm thinned. Voices stacked too quickly, questions overlapping. The scanner’s tone shifted from background to intrusion, each sound sharper than the last. My chest buzzed, restless, like the air itself had turned unstable. Soon the room pressed in on me — the scrape of boxes, the hum of the fluorescents, the smell of oil and cardboard swelling too thick. My breath shortened, movements stiff, every nerve pulled taut. And then came the collapse. Words slipped from reach, sound folded into static, my body heavy as stone. The world dulled to black and stillness — shutdown pulling me under, quiet but absolute.

Chronicles of a Quiet Fighter: A Day in My Autistic Life Morning Arrival: Senses on Alert The day began with the sun sneaking through the blinds, too bright too early for my brain to process comfortably. I pressed my hands against the hardwood floor, feeling the coolness beneath my palms. Each step on the floorboards made a soft, hollow echo, which my ears picked up more acutely than anyone else would notice. The buzzing started almost immediately, that familiar low vibration in my skin, and I knew I had to pace myself just to get through breakfast. I sat with my simple breakfast, thinking about the routines that guide my life. Even mundane actions—making a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, pouring a glass of water, checking my medication schedule—require precision and attention. For someone else, these tasks would feel automatic. For me, they are anchor points, moments to assert control over the sensory chaos around me. Preparing for Work: Small Triumphs Putti...

Giggy, Bubba, and Ryry: Growing Up with My Siblings Growing up with Jenna was… something else. Our nicknames for each other— Giggy for her, Bubba for me—sum up the chaos perfectly. She had ADHD, I had undiagnosed autism, and somehow, we were a perfect storm. Scratches, bruises, pencils thrown near my eye… our fights were epic. And our parents? They just let us go at it. They figured separating us was pointless because we’d just start again the moment the room emptied. Somehow, eventually, we got tired of it. The endless battles faded, and out of that chaos grew a closeness I wouldn’t trade for anything. Jenna isn’t just my sister anymore—her kids feel like mine, and I know we’d both do anything for each other. Then there’s Ryan— Ryry . Five years younger than me, seven younger than Jenna. As a kid, he begged Mom to make me play with him. I never did. Not because I didn’t care, but because I couldn’t. Being autistic, I didn...

How Miranda Gave Me a Name for My Alter Ego: Taylor Thursday, August 14 — just another second shift that turned into something more Some nights at work are quiet. Just me and Miranda holding down second shift, moving through the usual rhythm of orders, chatter, and silence. But this Thursday wasn’t like the rest. Somewhere between the fries dropping and the headset static, Miranda asked me a question that I didn’t realize I needed to hear. “Caleb, what’s your alter ego’s name?” she asked casually, like it was the simplest thing in the world. I froze. “Huh? I don’t know,” I told her. She tilted her head, studying me like she always does when she already knows the answer. “What do people call you when you’re not acting like yourself?” she pushed gently. All I could come up with was, “They just call me Caleb.” But the truth slipped out in another way. In the drive-thru, and even on the phone, people mishear me a...

Living Autistic: Why the Vaccine Myth Hurts Us All I was having a normal workday, just helping a customer like I always do, when they noticed my stim toy. In seconds, the conversation flipped from car parts to a rant about how vaccines “caused my autism.” I had to stop and correct them — again. It’s exhausting, but it’s something I have to do over and over. The myth that vaccines cause autism won’t die. Despite decades of scientific research proving otherwise, this false idea keeps spreading, hurting autistic people and their families. If vaccines really caused autism, then everyone who got vaccinated would have autism. That’s not how it works. Autism is a neurological difference you’re born with — part of how your brain is wired from the start. Autism Is Not a Tragedy Autism isn’t some disease to be cured or erased. It’s not caused by something you “catch” or something a parent “did wrong.” It’s part of who I am — and it comes with both challenges and strengths...

For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt lost—like I was drifting through life without a true sense of who I am. I wore a mask every day, molding myself to fit society’s narrow picture of what a “normal” person should be. I hid the parts of me that felt different—the way I stimmed, my social awkwardness—by watching others and learning how to blend into the crowd. Standing out felt dangerous, so I did everything I could to disappear in plain sight. Growing up, I didn’t understand why I acted the way I did. I just knew I was “weird” and “different,” and those words stung deeply. Bullies called me the R-word—something I hate to even think about—trying to strip me of my dignity and identity. I internalized those insults for years, believing I was broken or less than. Then, in April of this year, something shifted. I was diagnosed with autism. That diagnosis didn’t change who I am—it didn’t magically fix all my struggles or erase years of pain. But it gave me something priceless: a name for...

Troubles Understanding Neurotypical Communication I’ve always struggled to understand the way neurotypicals communicate. It’s like I never got the playbook. Funny thing is — that playbook was never written. And honestly, they never got it either. Communication keeps evolving, and it’s full of unspoken rules. From the way they don’t really say what they mean to the way they use body language, it’s like a foreign language. Like when I say, “I’m fine,” I really mean I’m fine. But they keep asking, “Are you okay?” And it drives me nuts because, yes, I am fine. According to my therapist Jennifer, I should say, “I’m doing okay today,” instead of “I’m fine.” That way, the neurotypical knows there’s nothing wrong with me. But honestly, it feels weird because the literal definition of “I’m fine” is… well, I’m fine. Duh. Here’s the kicker: in neurotypical speak, “I’m fine” apparently means “I’m not okay.” Which feels like a trap. Why can’t people just say wh...

Hey, I’m on Patreon Now! Hey everyone, I wanted to let you all know I just launched a Patreon page: patreon.com/Chroniclesofaquietfighter . This is where I’ll be sharing exclusive content from my autistic perspective — stuff like deep reflections, stories, and insights you won’t find anywhere else. Why Patreon? Because it helps me keep doing what I love: writing honestly about my experiences and connecting with folks who get it. Plus, it supports me in managing the challenges that come with being autistic and living authentically. If you like my work and want to support me, even a small pledge makes a big difference. And if you can’t support financially, no worries! You can still follow along here and on my socials. Also, I’ll continue sharing my books and poems here on the blog — but usually a couple months later, after they’ve had an exclusive run on Patreon. That way, Patreon supporters get early access, but everyone eventually gets to enjoy the ...

Understanding Autism: Beyond Myths and Misunderstandings Autism, or Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), isn’t a single “type” of person or experience — it’s a broad spectrum of ways people think, feel, and interact with the world. I was officially diagnosed in April 2025, at age 35, but autism has always been part of who I am. Getting that diagnosis didn’t change me — it just gave me the words and understanding for what I’d always known inside. Unfortunately, a lot of myths still surround autism, and they can cause real harm. So, let’s break down some truths — with a bit of my own experience mixed in. 1. Autism is Neurological, Not a Disease Autism is part of a person’s brain wiring. It’s not something that can be “cured” — and it’s not something that needs to be. I’ve had people treat my autism like a problem to be fixed, but the truth is, the things that make me different also give me unique strengths — like my love for history, my focus when working on classic cars, ...