About

🧠 Neurodivergent refers to people who have “different” brains that affect how we act. While many people associate it with ADHD and Autism, it also includes those with OCD, dyspraxia, dyslexia, dyscalculia, and Tourette’s.

Am I a professional? An expert? A licensed anything?

Nope.

I’m just someone whose brain functions like an internet browser with 78 tabs open—constantly switching between ideas and emotions, sometimes not sure exactly who I am, and often glitchy. Also, I crash rather dramatically.

But hey, here are my credentials:

EJ – Husband of 19 years. Diagnosed Autistic, “with intense presentation,” which basically means he’s awesome and exhausting in the best possible way. Also my rock, my tether, my grounding point.

Aonghus – Nearly 18. Diagnosed Autistic many years ago. Plans to be a psychiatrist because, “I already live in a neurodivergent zoo, might as well get paid for it.”

Joceline – 15. Classic ADHD Hyperactive. Wants to study ants. Or maybe be a history professor. Or maybe both. At the same time. And she’ll do it while pacing a hole in the floor.

Rina – 12. Not officially diagnosed (yet), but let’s just say: no one will be surprised when it eventually happens. Autism lives here, whether the paperwork says so or not.

Eve – 11. Diagnosed ADHD with Autistic traits (hello, AuDHD). She says socks hurt her feet, which I realize is not a normal response to socks. But also: totally normal here.

And me… Well. I’m not exactly neurotypical, either.

What’s This Site About

Eventually — hopefully — it’ll be a community.

Right now? It’s a place for me to rant about:

• doing housework without executive function or dopamine
• trying to meal plan around food sensitivities and aversions while also making meals interesting — but not too different, because Autism
• handling meltdowns, shutdowns, routines, and rules
• protecting my own damn battery for once
• and somehow launching these glorious young humans into adulthood without losing my mind or dying of spreadsheet overdose

I talk about the hard parts of neurodivergent living.

Like those days when you’re too overwhelmed to chop a carrot and make that “easy” recipe (If it’s easy, Janet, it wouldn’t require a knife, a cutting board, and three non-rotten vegetables, would it?)

Or dealing with highly sensitive kids who feel that one loose thread in their sock like it’s a torture device — but don’t even notice when they fall off the school bus, land on their face, and come home covered in blood.
(Real story. I’ll tell it.)

Or trying to keep a household running when everyone’s brains are out of spoons by 9AM and your list has things like “Call dentist” and “Buy lightbulbs” but both those tasks make you want to cry.

I might get a little snarky at times. Because … that’s the real me.