Welcome to the Chaos

Welcome to the Chaos: A Neurodivergent Mom's Self-Help Survival Blog
Because "Getting It Together" is Overrated, and Honestly? A little Suspicious.

Hey, hey-welcome, ya beautiful disaster. However you landed here—whether you were doomscrolling at 2am, hyperfixating on executive dysfunction memes, or you got lost somewhere between a Pinterest recipe and a Facebook mom group meltdown—I'm glad you made it.

I'm your host: a Massachusetts-born, Virginia-weathered married mom of three with CPTSD, ADHD, and a strong suspicion I'm somewhere on the autism spectrum. I've done the deep dive—more than once—and the signs are all there like flashing neon lights. If online quizzes counted, I'd have a certificate by now. But getting an adult diagnosis? Between the waitlists, the providers who "don't really do that," and the ridiculous cost (because of course insurance doesn't cover it), I eventually ran out of steam. When surviving the day already takes everything you've got, chasing a label you already know fits just feels impossible.

Everyone in this house? Neurodivergent. Every. Single. One. Of. Us.
My husband? ADHD. Me? ADHD, trauma-brained, and emotionally crispy.
Our youngest (our shared child) got the Ultra ADHD Deluxe Edition.
The older two? From my ex-husband—each rocking their own versions of brain spaghetti. Think: ADHD in stereo with the occasional surround sound meltdowns.

And yeah, I don't have primary custody of my older two. That's a deep cut that doesn't ever really scab over. Their dad—bless his heart (and I do mean that in the most Virginia way possible)—treats co-parenting like a full-contact sport with no referee. It's brutal. But this blog? Not about airing dirty laundry or asking for pity—it's about making it through the mess with humor, honesty, and maybe a little sass along the way.

This space is for the moms who are doing their best with a brain that refuses to cooperate. For the parents who forget the appointment and the reminder for the appointment. For the ones using dry shampoo as a lifestyle choice and wondering if "coping skills" includes crying in the car with the music just loud enough to drown out the overthinking.

We'll talk about the hard stuff. The weird stuff. The stuff neurotypical folks just don't get. And we'll celebrate the beautiful chaos too—the impulsive creativity, the unexpected laughter, the empathy that runs so deep it's basically a superpower (and also a little exhausting, tbh).

Listen—I'm not a licensed anything. I'm not here to tell you to wake up at sunrise and journal your way to enlightenment. (I mean, I might say journaling helps, but also have I journaled in the last 6 months? No. No I have not.)

This blog is my brain-dump-therapy-zone. My "maybe if I write it out, it'll make sense" space. My love letter to all of us neurospicy weirdos who are just trying to raise kids, heal our inner child, manage a grocery list, and maybe—maybe—remember to take our meds on time.

So if you're looking for the perfectly polished Pinterest mom who has themed snack containers and a color-coded calendar... bless her. But she doesn't live here.
If you want unfiltered, slightly unhinged, but totally relatable? Pull up a chair. You're in the right place.

Let's survive this chaos together—with caffeine, memes, duct tape, and a hell of a lot of heart.

With love and microwave-warmed coffee,
Your Slightly Unstable, Totally Lovable Blog Mom
(A Masshole-turned-Virginian with attitude, anxiety, and zero chill)