Stepping Forward, Quietly but Strongly Jump to Section: • Life Lately • Learning to Listen to Myself • The Quiet Battles • What’s Helping Right Now ▶ Life Lately Life lately has been a mix of stillness and storms. As an autistic person, the world often feels too loud, too bright, and too fast. I carry those moments of overwhelm in my body and mind, but I’m also learning how to honor them instead of fighting against them. There are days when I feel drained just from existing. The sound of voices overlapping, the pressure of expectations, or the weight of unspoken feelings can leave me buzzing inside — like my nervous system is running on high voltage. In the past, I tried to push through, but I’m realizing that survival isn’t the same thing as living. On the other side, there are days filled with small but powerful victorie...

End of August Update August always weighs on me. My birthday sits in the same week as the memory of my grandfather’s passing, and that combination pulls me between joy and grief in a way that my body can’t always process. It feels like buzzing under my skin—like my nerves are carrying too much information at once. Sometimes I sweat when no one else is hot, or everything sounds like it’s happening at the same volume, and my body just says, enough. Turning 36 brought mixed emotions. I don’t feel like I’ve “arrived” anywhere in life, and my brain often tells me I should be further ahead. But when I look at the reality, I’ve survived so much. My autistic brain and body make everyday things harder—like interruptions at work that completely throw me off, or noise in the store that makes me lose my focus instantly. Even something as simple as trying to reset after being pulled away feels impossible some days. Still, I made it through, and that counts for more...

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...

 Some people think it’s weird that I can go from watching Department Q or House to curling up with cartoons made for little kids. Or that I’ll happily read about revolutions and lost empires… then turn around and eat Dino-shaped chicken nuggets for dinner. But here’s the thing: it’s not childish. It’s balance. Being autistic means the world often feels like it’s turned up to eleven. Deep dramas and history books feed the part of me that loves to explore complexity, darkness, and the messy truths about humanity. They challenge my mind and let me see the world through different lenses.  But after a day of sensory overload, anxiety spikes, or just plain life stress? That same mind needs a softer landing. Cartoons are gentle, predictable, and safe. Dino nuggets feel comforting, silly, and familiar. They aren’t about avoiding adulthood — they’re about recovering enough to keep being an adult tomorrow. Liking these things doesn’t erase the fact that I’m also into heavier, “grown-up”...

Mom and Grandma at it again Today has been another day of noise and tension. My mom and grandmother argued again—like they do almost every day. It’s always about something that doesn’t matter in the long run. My brain can’t understand the point of it. I try to tune it out, but the shouting cuts through everything, like a sharp alarm I can’t silence. It makes my skin crawl and my stomach twist. I just want quiet. I want peace. But that’s rare in this house. My grandmother is difficult. Honestly, she’s abusive—emotionally manipulative and cruel, especially to my mom. I see it. I hear it. I feel it in the heaviness of the air after every interaction. She talks down to us like we’re worthless, like our feelings and needs don’t matter. Sometimes I think she sees us as tools, not people. That’s hard to say. But it feels true. Even though she can’t walk on her own or take care of herself, she still finds ways to control everything around her. She uses guilt like a weapon. My mo...