The horrible cough-and-cold mixture is the ultimate magnification of all the things that push those sensory overload buttons in my brain.
I have a major personal conundrum: I enjoy spending time with people I like, but I have a severely limited supply of social energy to do so.
When neurotypical people talk about anxiety, they're not willing to talk about the other, less sympathetic, manifestations.
It was a crushing, overpopulated corner of hell, and I promised myself I would never go into the situation again unarmed.
I have lost count of the times a headline has flashed with a tagline that sets my heart racing and none of the details I need to actually understand the situation.
There’s too much to write about, to think about, to be worried about. And it can be so overwhelming that I end up unable to do anything.
I had a good day yesterday. I also had a meltdown in public yesterday. Holy oxymoron, Batman!
He is my beautiful, brave, loving, silly, pathetic, cowardly, loyal, protective, fabulous boy. Sometimes, I love him so much I could cry.
For every person who complains about how annoying they find this new fad, I will shoot back that it's a lot less annoying than a twenty-five year old woman descending into meltdown in a public space.
I've always known I feel the cold. I had just never thought about in terms of those wonderful labels that started clicking into place once I got my diagnosis.