When You And Your Friend Have The Same Therapist Healing can be shared, but each story still deserves its own space. ••• Today brought a small twist. My friend Kenneth and I realized we share the same therapist. I had my appointment with Jennifer at one o’clock, and he met her for the first time at three. She had an hour between us, which felt merciful. Two of us in one day might test anyone’s clinical stamina. Before I left, I told her she would be meeting one of my friends later. She asked who. I said, “Kenneth.” She smiled and said, “Don’t tell me anything about him. I want to meet him with an unbiased mind.” That made sense to me. Therapy works best when each person gets a clean slate—no backstory, no influence, just truth meeting truth. On the way home, I couldn’t help laughing. Same therapist. Same couch. Same box of tissues. Different lives being unpacked in ...

Working with Miranda Friendship at work, autism awareness, and small moments that keep me steady. I work with my friend Miranda. We move through busy days together, one small moment at a time. Some days I am the helper. Some days she is. Most days we trade places without saying a word. That is what trust looks like for me at work. How we team up Miranda knows my patterns. When the store gets loud, she checks on me. When I get lost in a task, she gives me a simple cue. Sometimes it is a soft beep sound to help me shift attention. Sometimes it is a gentle look that says breathe. I do the same for her in my way. I grab parts, I keep things moving, I crack a joke when we both need a reset. When change hits hard Updates to the system can throw me off. My breath gets shallow. My body feels tight. When that happens, Miranda crouches so we are eye to eye and says breathe with me. One bre...

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...

Why I Shared My Stim Toy – And Why That’s Okay It was supposed to be a simple visit. I stopped by O’Reilly’s on my day off just to say hi to my friend Miranda. But like most things in my life, something small turned into something big inside my head. While I was there, Kenneth walked in. He’s Miranda’s boyfriend—and he’s AuDHD. As soon as he came through the door, I could tell something was off. I read it immediately in the way he moved, the way his body carried a weight most people wouldn’t notice. He was dysregulated. I just knew. Kenneth and I are buddies, and we’ve both been there—overwhelmed, out of place, overstimulated. So, I offered him my Nee Doh. He uses one at home, but he works at VW and isn’t allowed to bring stim toys into the plant with him. That sucks, honestly. So when I offered it, he took it. He needed it. No big deal to me. Five minutes later, he was calmer. Crisis averted. Miranda didn’t blink. She gets it. We’ve shared stim toys before, always with respect...

When Loyalty Hurts: A Goodbye I Never Got I wasn’t prepared to lose Mikey like this. He didn’t die. He just… disappeared. Turned off his phone. Didn’t show up for work Saturday. No call. No warning. Just gone . He finally texted Sunday . Said he quit. That he’d been planning it for two weeks. But I didn’t know. Not me. Not any of us at work. The customers knew, though. Let that sink in. I thought he was one of my safe people. One of the few I could unmask around. I laid my soul bare with him—shared things I don’t tell just anyone. I don’t open up easy, and when I do, it’s not halfway. It’s all or nothing. And with Mikey, I gave it all. Now I’m sitting here, wondering why everyone I open up to eventually leaves. It’s not just sad. It’s grief. It’s confusion. It’s betrayal. And yeah—my eyes are leaking. That’s how my body processes this kind of thing. I guess it’s funny in a way. I wasn’t expecting a plot twist like this at work. But here we ...