One Day at a Time This past year in therapy has taught me more than I ever expected. I have learned that it is okay to be me. I am autistic. I have depression, anxiety, and a handful of health problems. I can still take life one day at a time. I have learned that needing help is not failure. I can rely on my supports without guilt, my mom, my friends, my therapist. I can have meltdowns or shutdowns and know they will pass. I can use the tools I have built to keep them from spinning out of control. Here is the deeper truth that I found. I could lose the job, the books, or the blog, and I would still be okay if I had my people. My mom and my friends are the reason I am still standing. The rest is the bonus. I am still depressed. I am also here. I am still trying. I am still learning. I am still me. For once, that feels enough. Written by Caleb Powers, Chronicles of a Quiet Fighter End note. If this helped you, you can join my Q...

I Am Not a Failure for Needing Help Chronicles of a Quiet Fighter A+ A A− Some days it hits me hard. The thought that I must be a failure because I need so much support. My mom reminds me to eat, Miranda grounds me when I start to spiral, and John helps me stay on track with food and health. Without them, I know I would have ended up in the hospital more than once. For a long time, I have carried the weight of believing this made me weak. That needing help somehow erased all the things I have accomplished. But lately I have started to see it differently. Needing support does not mean failure. It means I am human. Humans are not meant to live this life completely alone. Support systems are the safety nets that keep us going when our own strength runs thin. When I look at what I have done, writing a 70,000 word novel in just two weeks, holding down a job that overwhelms my senses, and still finding the courage to share my story ...

What Are Friends and What They Mean to Me Friends, to me, are the people I trust enough to actually talk to. And when I say “talk to,” I mean really talk to —the kind of conversation that costs spoons, not just the small social talk we do to survive day-to-day life. When I open up to someone, it’s sacred. I don’t do that easily. I don’t have many friends, so when I choose to share my energy with someone, I cherish those connections deeply. Miranda is probably the closest friend I have. I rely on her—maybe more than I should—but she’s always there. She’s my protector, especially at work. Sometimes, she notices I’m spiraling before I even realize it myself. John is the wise one. His advice has carried me through some really dark times. He’s like my grounding voice. Chaz may no longer be at our store, but he still checks in. His voice has a calming effect like no one else’s. He still plays an important role in my life. Mikey is like a brother. His ADHD has him all ov...