Life in Full Spectrum: Adventures in Creative Living

Feeding a family is hard. Feeding a neurodivergent family of six? That’s a full-time job, a puzzle, a sensory experiment, and a balancing act wrapped into one—and I’m the ringmaster, juggling food aversions, texture issues, allergies, and wildly different taste preferences while trying to stay on a budget. It’s exhausting. Some of us hate mixed textures. Some need foods separated. One has a strong aversion to certain smells. Another can’t handle the taste of anything too strong, too spicy, too “weird.” Someone’s allergic to tree nuts. Someone else  swears  they’ll throw up if they even look at a mushroom. One prefers simple finger foods. Another loves crunch and spice. And me? I’m just trying to eat low-carb without spiraling. Every month, I sit down with the best of intentions to plan meals for the upcoming month. I start with a budget that doesn’t stretch nearly far enough. Then I factor in: • What everyone will  actually  eat • What we already have • W...

There are days when I swear I’m doing life all wrong—days when I dig through my bag, my pockets, the counter, the car, and the  entire universe  just trying to find my keys. My ID? Who knows where that is. A form I was supposed to fill out? Probably buried under the avalanche of “important papers” I swore I would organize. I see people in the world who seem to have it together. Their keys live in a designated spot. Their IDs are tucked neatly into their wallets. They remember their appointments, they renew their licenses on time, they keep track of  everything  like it’s second nature. Meanwhile, I’m standing in the checkout line, realizing I have no idea where my debit card is—again. I’ve spent my whole life feeling like a toddler lost in the big people’s world. A world where deadlines exist, where important documents must be kept safe, where cars need oil changes, and health insurance has open enrollment periods. But my brain? My brain does not care. It refuses to ...