🎃 When My Brain Just Can’t Let It Go Today at work we had a customer come in with a jeep that he had turned into a rock crawler. He said he had a code for a downstream O2 sensor, then told us he had removed his catalytic converters. I explained that he would need someone to reprogram his ECM to work without them. He didn’t want to hear it and said, “Well, it didn’t have a code for months after I did it.” I tried to tell him that you have to drive enough miles before the ECM even realizes something is wrong, but he just brushed it off and left. Thirty minutes later, I was still talking about it with John. He finally asked, “Why do you and Miranda not leave stuff in the past? You both just keep talking about people or things that happened for days instead of letting it go.” I stopped for a second and said, “I can’t speak for Miranda, but for me, my brain loops when something bugs me.” That’s the truth. When something doesn’t make sense, ...

Why Do So Many Autistic People Look Younger Than We Are? It’s something I’ve noticed in myself and in others in the neurodivergent community — we often get mistaken for being younger than we are. I’ll be working, joking around, or just smiling off into space, and someone will say, “You look like a kid again.” At first, I thought it was just me. But the more autistic people I met, the more I saw it wasn’t just a coincidence. There’s something deeper going on. So I started digging into it. Is it neurological? Is it sensory? Is it how we show up in the world? Turns out… it’s kind of all of the above. 🧠 Neurological Expression Autistic people often express emotions, tone, and body language differently. Our faces may be more neutral, animated, or expressive in ways that resemble younger people. Some of us smile big, use playful tones, or stim with joy — and neurotypicals read that as childlike. But really, it’s just authentic e...

Choosing the Hard Path There comes a time in your life where you have to make the hard decision: do I keep going down the path I’m on just because it’s familiar? Or do I take the path that might actually help me—no matter how unknown or scary it feels? That was where I was a couple of months ago when I finally decided to get assessed for autism. When I started seeing a therapist again. When I met with a psychiatrist for the first time. When I began taking an SSRI and anxiety meds—ones that, if I didn’t truly need them, could have seriously harmed me. Let that sink in. But here I am. It’s August 2nd, 2025. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d live to see this day. And nearly didn’t—more than once. One of those times was by my own hands. I know, right? Messed up. But hey, I did just say I’m on meds. Dark humor helps sometimes. I want you to know—it does get easier. Not perfect. Not some magical Hollywood moment where the clouds part and you become a brand new person. That’s...

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 the Sound Won’t Stop: My Sensory Survival Toolkit The world hums loud, though others rest, Each sound a weight upon my chest. But still I breathe, and still I try, With tools that help me not to cry. A blanket's hug, a beaver near, I build my calm when none is clear. If you read my last post, you know about the unwelcome summer guest outside my window—the endlessly buzzing cicada who’s been drilling into my skull with a song only I seem to hear. That post ended with a poem and a promise: to share how I cope when the world turns up the volume and my autistic brain can’t turn it back down. So here it is—my toolkit. Not one made of wrenches and screws, but of textures, sounds, comfort, and survival. Because when your sensory system runs hot all the time, you need real strategies to cool it down. 🧸 Weighted Blanket + Buc-ee = My Grounding Duo My weighted blanket is my shield. When the world is too loud, too fast, or too unpredictable, it wraps me in calm. A...

A Formal Petition to the Feathered Knights To the noble birds who once called the window outside my room home— I know we’ve had our differences. I’ve grumbled. I’ve complained. I may have even threatened to evict you with muttered curses and half-hearted shoe tosses. Your early morning chirping was not appreciated by a sleep-deprived autistic who wrestles with insomnia and a brain that refuses to shut off. But oh, how the tides have turned. For now, I find myself haunted by a new tenant: the relentless, vibrating, high-frequency Cicada of Doom . Its siren song—made with actual rib bones, by the way—is both biologically fascinating and absolutely torturous to my nervous system. Its buzz drills into my skull with the intensity of a thousand dentist tools on loop. I cannot rest. I cannot think. I cannot even scream because I’m too overstimulated to formulate words. So, to the birds: I take it all back. Your chirps, your fluttering wings, your constant nest rearranging—I would ...

Mourning Rituals I get up every morning to my mom bringing me my breakfast—an Egg McMuffin from McDonald's—at 7:30 a.m. I have to eat the same thing every morning or my entire day feels ruined. My morning meds start at 8:30 a.m., spaced out 30 minutes apart. I take four medications each morning, and after that, I go to the bathroom at exactly 10:45. Then I get dressed and ready for work. If I have enough time, I might even start writing a blog post like this one. Routines are important for autistic people—they ground us. But not all autistic people need routines in the same way. We’re all different. Most late-diagnosed autistic people also have ADHD. I’ve never been tested for it, but I’m pretty certain that I don’t have it. I have several friends who do, and I don’t share any of the ADHD traits they describe, but I have nearly all of the traits of autism. But back to routines—I thrive on them. They help me stay focused and organized. If my routines get interrupted, I...

When My Body Hit Panic Mode at Work Yesterday at work, I was just standing at my counter, waiting for the next customer to walk through the door, when out of nowhere, my heart rate spiked. I don’t know what triggered it—nothing obvious set me off—but my body went straight into fight or flight. Box breathing didn’t help much. Stimming didn’t either. I felt trapped inside my own body, my pulse racing up to 130 bpm, according to my smartwatch. I was dizzy, faint, and still—I had to push through. A customer walked in right in the middle of it, and like I always do, I threw on my mask. I covered my autistic traits. I forced myself past a breaking point I should have never crossed. Worst decision I’ve made in a long time. I helped the customer anyway, even though I was falling apart inside. The second I was done, I went straight to my manager and told him I needed to sit down. Thankfully, he said okay. I asked John if he could come back early from lunch, and he did—which I’m g...

🪶 I Just Want to Hear the Birds: Living in a World That’s Too Loud I’m autistic, and my world is loud — painfully, relentlessly loud. Even with earplugs and headphones, some days all I want is to step outside and just hear the birds. But it’s never that simple. Some days, all I want is to step outside and just hear the birds. Feel the breeze, catch the rustle of leaves, maybe notice a distant dog barking or a squirrel scurrying up a tree. But instead, I hear a truck’s backup beeper three streets over. I hear the low, constant hum of traffic, the deep bass of someone’s stereo vibrating the air, and — always — the ringing in my ears that never really stops. Even with my Loop earplugs in, it feels like the world refuses to turn the volume down. I hate that I need earplugs. I hate that I carry headphones everywhere like armor. I hate that just existing outside feels like fighting a battle my nervous system is already tired of fighting. And yeah — it’s unfair. I’m autistic, a...

Today was therapy day with Jennifer—who, let’s be honest, is basically a fan at this point. I gave her several of my recent blog posts: the one about the crown, the hot jerky shutdown one, and the recovery post. (Yes, that flaming cow meat tried to take me out, and yes, I lived to tell the tale.) Anyway, she loved them. She even asked for my blog link. Apparently, she wants to share them with the practice owner and some of the other therapists at the clinic. She said I’m one of her success stories. Me? A success story? Honestly, I don’t feel like one. I’m just an autistic person trying to survive in a world that’s too loud, too bright, and absolutely allergic to clear instructions. I write because I need to. Because if I don’t, the thoughts pile up like unsorted laundry. It’s not about being seen—it’s about staying sane. But something shifted today. The idea that my words could actually help someone? That maybe what I’ve been surviving could offer someone else a bit of light? That’s… h...