Morgan Foley

Hope, Healing, and Honest Conversations

Morgan Foley brings a heartfelt and faith-driven approach to mental health advocacy, self-worth, and trauma recovery. Through personal storytelling, encouraging words, and powerful video content, she fosters a space where pain meets purpose and healing begins. Whether you’re struggling with doubt, depression, or your place in the world, Morgan’s voice is one of reassurance and truth.

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🦕 Why I Love Both Dark Dramas and Dino Nuggets

 Some people think it’s weird that I can go from watching Department Q or House to curling up with cartoons made for little kids. Or that I’ll happily read about revolutions and lost empires… then turn around and eat Dino-shaped chicken nuggets for dinner. But here’s the thing: it’s not childish. It’s balance. Being autistic means the world often feels like it’s turned up to eleven. Deep dramas and history books feed the part of me that loves to explore complexity, darkness, and the messy truths about humanity. They challenge my mind and let me see the world through different lenses.  But after a day of sensory overload, anxiety spikes, or just plain life stress? That same mind needs a softer landing. Cartoons are gentle, predictable, and safe. Dino nuggets feel comforting, silly, and familiar. They aren’t about avoiding adulthood — they’re about recovering enough to keep being an adult tomorrow. Liking these things doesn’t erase the fact that I’m also into heavier, “grown-up”...
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Why I Love Lilo & Stitch: A Reflection on Ohana and Being Misunderstood

There’s a simple phrase from Lilo & Stitch that’s always stuck with me: > “Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind.” It’s such a small line, but it carries so much weight — especially for someone like me who’s always felt a little out of place. What really hits me about the movie and the TV show is how they show a broken family still trying to hold itself together. It isn’t perfect. There are fights, mistakes, and moments of pain. But there’s also love that doesn’t go away, even when it’s messy. I see myself in that. It reminds me of my own life and the struggles that come with wanting to belong somewhere, even when everything feels complicated. The aliens in the story almost feel like a metaphor for being different. Being autistic, I know what it’s like to feel like an outsider — like you’re from another planet, trying to figure out how to live in a world that doesn’t always make sense. Watching Stitch try to understand how to be part of a family hits me deep, ...
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RevvedRevved Up & Elbow Deep

RevvedRevved Up & Elbow Deep Have you ever found yourself elbow deep in an engine bay—so locked in the zone that time stops existing? One minute you’re just knocking out a quick oil change… and the next thing you know, you’re halfway through swapping the whole engine. Yeah, that’s me. More times than I’d care to admit. And honestly? It’s the absolute best and worst feeling in the world. The best part? It drags me straight back to those golden afternoons wrenching alongside my grandfather. Grease on our hands, classic rock humming in the background, and lessons that went way beyond car parts. Those are memories burned into my heart forever. The worst part? Well, when the adrenaline wears off and I step back, I realize I’ve spent a small fortune rebuilding something that really just needed a $30 oil change. LOL. But that’s life when you’re autistic and your special interest is classic cars. You see more than nuts and bolts—you see stories, history, and an engine that’s p...
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🖤 It's Wednesday Time 🖤

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Wednesday Season 2 is Coming... Like Wednesday Addams herself, I’ve been counting the days in silence... until now. On August 6th, the darkness returns and the weird takes the lead. Season 2 of Wednesday drops on Netflix—and I’ll be front and center, emotionally unavailable, and fully invested. I see myself in Wednesday: intense, honest, misunderstood, and brilliant in ways most people can’t grasp. She’s either autistic—or perfectly autistic-coded—and it’s why her story feels like mine, just with more spiders and fencing swords. 🕷️ Until then... sharpen your wit, practice your cello, and embrace the chaos. 🕷️
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🌧️ The Rinse Is Enough

🌧️ The Rinse Is Enough Some mornings, I just rinse off with hot water. No soap. No washcloth. No full-body scrubdown. Just water and breath and enough stillness to remind myself: I’m here. I did something. I’m still trying. Growing up, my mom would tell me, “If you’re in there with the water on, you might as well use soap and a washcloth.” But what she didn’t understand — what so many people still don’t understand — is that for someone like me, autistic and often overwhelmed, that “might as well” comes with a cost. Soap isn’t just soap. It’s texture, scent, pressure, decisions. It’s executive function and sensory load. It’s one more step when I already feel like I’m drowning in steps. There are days when just turning on the water is a triumph. Rinsing off is not “giving up.” It’s choosing a path I can actually walk. It’s something . And something is always better than nothing. The rinse helps regulate my body. The hot water...
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The Giddy Gremlin Strikes Again

The Giddy Gremlin Strikes Again Posted on August 3, 2025 I have no idea what’s going on with me today—but I’m giddy as hell , and honestly? I’m not even mad about it. John walked into work, took one look at me, and said something like, “You’re in a mood today.” And I was like, “Yep. Giddy as hell. No clue why.” And that’s the truth. I can’t pin it on anything. No new toy. No sugar rush. No big news. Just… my brain decided it was a good day to throw a dance party in my nervous system. And I’m loving it. It’s like this fizzy, bubbly feeling that makes everything feel kind of sparkly. Like the world is one big inside joke and I’m the only one who gets the punchline. My grin won’t quit. I keep wanting to spin around or stim or say weird things just for the fun of it. And you know what? That’s joy . That’s autistic joy in full bloom, and I’m not about to question it. I’ve spent so much of my life managing sensory storm...
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Unmasking Didn’t Free Me... At First

Unmasking Didn’t Free Me... At First I was told that unmasking would make me feel free. That I’d finally breathe easier, laugh louder, stim openly, and just exist as myself without fear. But no one told me it would crack open the vault of everything I’d buried to survive. I didn’t expect the grief, the rage, or the way my body would tremble when I let myself move differently—freely—for the first time. “I’m learning that freedom sometimes starts with falling apart.” It hurts more right now because I’m finally feeling it. Every unprocessed wound, every "just push through," every mask I wore so well they started believing it was me... I'm facing all of it now. Unmasking didn't make me happy. It made me real. And real is harder than I thought. But I’m Not Going Back I love stimming too much. I love the softness of my voice when I’m not forcing it. I love the freedom in rocking, spinning, flapping—my body speaking its tr...
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Life lately a quiet fighters update

Life Lately: A Quiet Fighter’s Update 🌿 Life Lately: A Quiet Fighter’s Update It’s been a lot lately. And honestly? I’m tired—but I’m still here, still trying, still fighting quietly. The past few weeks have felt like living inside a pressure cooker. Between work stress, prepping for bankruptcy to finally breathe again, health flares, and just the weight of existing as an autistic, anxious millennial in this loud world… it’s been overwhelming. Some mornings, before my feet even hit the floor, everything already feels loud and heavy. My health has been a maze of high blood pressure numbers, chest tightness, weird heart rate spikes, and nights where sleep feels impossible. The sleep apnea, insomnia, and random buzzing sensations through my body don’t help either. And the sensory overload? Still there. Three streets over, a truck backup beeper sounds like it’s right beside me, even with earplugs shoved in. Emotionally, it’s been messy. There are moments of laughter—like...
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This Blog Saved Me: What Autism Means to Me Now

This Blog Saved Me: What Autism Means to Me Now It’s been several months since I got my autism diagnosis, and honestly, I’m still learning what that truly means. Coming to terms with it hasn’t been easy. Some days, it’s a relief—finally having language for things I’ve always felt but couldn’t explain. Other days, it feels like I’m unraveling parts of myself I didn’t even realize were tangled. My friends have supported me in ways I didn’t fully recognize until now. The little check-ins, the patience, the unspoken understanding when I go quiet or need space—it all adds up. And my mom has been a huge part of this too. She’s still learning with me, but she shows up the best she can, even when things get hard. My therapist has helped the most by simply offering a space where I don’t have to mask. I can speak openly, cry without shame, stim without judgment. Just having that space to be fully me? That’s something I didn’t know I needed until I had it. But this blog— Chronicles of a Q...
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That Moment When Your Dark Humor Hits a Nerve

That Moment When Your Dark Humor Hits a Nerve So I may have put my foot in my mouth today. Again. I, in my not-so-innocent wisdom, dropped two spicy comments—one about using a serpentine belt to strangle myself, and the other suggesting the brake lathe instead for a more gruesome end. Yeah. That brake lathe one definitely crossed a line. But before I could filter it or catch my own brain for going full Saw franchise, it was already out there. John, sweet chaotic John, just looked at me and calmly said, “Yep, it’s time for you to go, Caleb. Get something to eat. Watch a movie. Call Miranda or your therapist.” I, being the delightfully unhinged goblin that I am, started laughing my ass off. He didn’t laugh. He just stood there with this deeply concerned look that said: “This is not funny. Are you okay?” Which only made me laugh harder, because sometimes I genuinely can’t help it. Humor is my shield, my pressure valve, my accidental weapon of choice. The thing is... I...
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