Shoelaces and Soft Moments Most mornings before work, my mom ties my shoes for me. It’s not that I can’t tie them — I can — they just never seem to stay tied when I do it. They come undone before I even reach the front door. But when my mom ties them, somehow they stay perfect. I don’t know what she does exactly, but they hold tight. She says I should just get slip-on shoes so she doesn’t have to keep doing it. Jokes that she’s been tying my shoes for 32 years, and it’s about time I handle it myself. I tell her she’s already invested this much time, why stop now? Truth is, it’s not about the shoes. It’s about the moment. Those few minutes are just me and her. A small window of connection in a busy day. No one else. Just the two of us. While she’s bent down tying my shoes, I usually pat her on the top of the head. She says she hates it, but I always catch a little smile. She knows I don’t like to be touched much — it’s a big deal for me. A small pat is me letting her...

The Calm in the Pattern: How Routines Help Me Regulate In my last post, I talked about my morning rituals—how I eat the same breakfast, take my meds at the same times, and follow a strict order before I start my day. But I wanted to go deeper into why routines matter so much to me as an autistic adult. It’s not just about liking sameness. It’s about stability . When the world feels unpredictable, overstimulating, and exhausting, my routine gives me something solid to hold onto. It’s like a roadmap that tells me: “This is what’s next. You’re safe. You’ve done this before.” Every time I follow my routine successfully, I’m building up regulation—not just keeping myself on track physically, but emotionally too. My brain knows what to expect. My body doesn’t have to stay on high alert. That makes it easier to stay calm, focused, and grounded. But when something disrupts the flow—when my breakfast is late, when someone talks to me during my med schedule, or when a task gets r...