The Very Confused Flamingo A story about skipping, autism, and discovering that sometimes the journey matters more than the destination. A surprisingly accurate artistic recreation of today's events. Today, at thirty six years old, I decided to try skipping. I had not attempted it since I was a child. Before I started, I did what any reasonable adult would do. I watched a tutorial video. The instructor made it look easy. Step. Hop. Step. Hop. Alternate legs. Smile. Apparently, this is called skipping. Confident in my newly acquired knowledge, I headed into the hallway and prepared to demonstrate my athletic prowess. The results were... disappointing. My brain understood the assignment perfectly. My body, however, had other plans. Every time I told my legs to hop, they simply refused. It was not a balance issue. It was not a lack of understanding. My legs just collectively decided that leaving the ground was an unr...

Goodbye September, Hello October A quiet recap, a gentle reset, and a steady vow for care 🍁🍂✨🍂🍁 September in a few breaths September brought small wins and a few hard days. I kept writing. I kept learning how to pace my body and my mind. Some plans changed. Some stayed the same. I am proud that I asked for help when I needed it. I am also proud that I rested when my energy ran low. That was real growth. I had moments of joy with friends. I made progress on creative work. I had heavy moments too. I named them. I tracked them. I moved through them one step at a time. That is the story I want to carry forward. October intention October begins with a calm breath. I choose simple routines. I choose clear steps. I choose soft edges around hard days. I will keep my focus on what I can control. I will let go of what I cannot. I will measure progress by kindness, not by speed. Advocacy...

When My Body Says No: An Autistic Moment in the Drive-Thru Something small happened at Zaxby’s today, but it made me realize something important about myself. I was in the drive-thru, just expecting my usual. The girl working the window wasn’t the one who handed me my drink—this time, it was a guy. I think he’s the manager or something. I’ve seen him there before, and he’s done this before too. He’s not rude or mean, but…I just don’t like him touching my stuff. It’s not all guys. Other restaurants have guy workers, and I’m fine with them. It’s him . Something about him just makes me feel off. And I finally noticed that. When he tried to hand me my drink today, I just stared at him. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared. He stared back and asked, “Are you going to take it?” Still, nothing from me. I had my autism shirt on under my work uniform (which was unbuttoned), and the girl standing beside him leaned in and whispered something in his ear. He backed off. Handed her t...

🌿 Letting Go Isn’t Weakness: Crying in the Backroom and Standing Back Up This morning hit different. I’m at work right now, barely holding it together. Tears keep coming up, and I keep wiping them away before anyone sees. But the truth is: I’m scared. Really scared. All of this started because I’m trying to do the responsible thing: file bankruptcy so I can get a fresh start. The lawyer needs $400 down, and I don’t have it. So I asked my aunt for help. She texted me back, basically reminding me of all the times I wasn’t in a good place years ago, and telling me no. It hurt more than I want to admit — because she’s not wrong about the past, but I’m not that person anymore. I’m trying to do better. I am doing better. It got worse because I know something about her too: she’s been getting VA caregiver money to take care of my grandma — but my grandma doesn’t even live with her. She lives with me and my mom, and we’re the ones who do the actual caregiving every day. It feels wr...