THE WORKBOOKS ARE BACK!

Hi, yes, hello.

Some of you may know me from the content I used to create within a particular niche subculture of TikTok involving adult extracurricular activities & communication skills.

Once upon a time, there was a website that sold communication workbooks which I designed to help consenting adults communicate their needs, desires, and boundaries.

I wasn’t making enough money to compensate myself for my labor, let alone renew my domain subscription for the commerce site. As such, these workbooks sort of disappeared off of the internet… UNTIL NOW!

Since they weren’t making much money anyways, I decided to make them available FOR FREE!

CLICK HERE to access the digital files (18+ only)

(But uh, I’m still a broke bitch…)

So! If you find these tools valuable and can afford to compensate me for my labor, donations are very much appreciated.

Venmo & Paypal: @subspeaks

Take care of your you!

~ “Auntie” Gracie

KC Davis gave a Ted Talk that could change your relationship to self care and/or productivity. ​

youtu.be/M1O_MjMRkPg

Do yourself a favor and watch this ~12 minute video. Put it on 1.5x speed if you have to. Watch it while you do trudge your way through a low-dopamine care task. Just LISTEN.

If you are neurodivergent AF, (or just generally have shame surrounding struggles with housework / parenting / adulting…)

KC Davis ‘s book “How to Keep House While Drowning” is a game changer. A true life saver. Check her out!

How To Start a Blog When You Have ADHD

2/2/22

Step One: Hyperfocus on choosing a template & choosing your domain.

Step Two: Experience Rejection Sensitivity when the launch doesn’t immediately garner a mass following.

Step Three: Start an Accelerated Master’s Program that you totally have bandwidth for.

Step Four: Forget the blog exists.

Step Five: Get married.

Step Six: Achieve a 4.0 GPA in the first term of Grad School.

Step Seven: Start the second term & discover that the new professors missed the memo about the dangers of overloading students with too much homework.

Step Eight: Neglect your child for half a week in an attempt to convince yourself that you can totally manage a workload of 7 chapters of textbook reading + an entire book + two papers + discussion posts — half of which is due by Wednesday.

Step Nine: Have an emotional meltdown tinged with self-loathing over the fact that you have failed to keep of the metaphorical balls in the air.

Step Ten: Withdraw from the program before you get billed for the second term.

Step Eleven: Lament the fact that you just spent several hundreds of dollars on text books that you can’t use.

Step Twelve: Get billed for the second term anyways.

Step Thirteen: Convince yourself you’ll finish the program once your son is in elementary school.

Step Fourteen: Become consumed by managing an array of medical specialist appointments & therapies.

Step Fifteen: Catch up on all of the household duties that fell to shit when you were trying to convince yourself that you could totally handle Grad School right now.

Step Sixteen: Remember you started a blog, consider coming back with a post about how difficult it is to complete bureaucratic tasks such as a legal name change during the pandemic that never ends.

Step Seventeen: Make 4 trips to the DMV, two to the (Closed) local Social Security office, and half-a-dozen calls to various Social Security Branches in fruitless attempts to legally change your name & track down the marriage license that is being held hostage by Vogons.

Step Eighteen: Receive marriage license back in the mail — without any notation of explanation… let alone the replacement social security card you applied for.

Step Nineteen: Thanos your own Discord Server.

Step Twenty: Return to the blog, masking your embarrassment behind a tongue-in-cheek listicle post that pokes fun at the way your neurodivergence makes it challenging to start and complete tasks — despite the fact that your brain is constantly churning out new ideas at a zillion miles per minute.

Elevator Pitch:

Disney+ original series where the family Madrigal work through traumatic events as a team according to the strengths of their roles:

(Black Sheep, Scapegoat, Golden Child, Hero, etc…)

Generational trauma isn’t so simple that it can be solved in a singular musical finale… it requires ongoing work.

Lots of folk could benefit from having constructive strategies for conflict resolution modeled for them by characters they identify with.

Just sayin’ 🤷🏻‍♀️

Bandwidth

A fun thing about being an AFAB who has a Race Car brain with Unicycle brakes, is the part where you overcommit yourself on “good brain days” only to find yourself struggling and wondering why the hell you did this to yourself two weeks later.

Should I have started this blog?

Yes. Writing is good for me.

Can I commit to writing regularly?

No.

I’m learning to be ok with deprioritizing when my bandwidth starts running low. There used to be a ton of shame associated with this. I’d be lying if I said that I’ve completely overcome that shame.

In my Grad School program, we’re discussing the history of education in America. This country built its standards of excellence around a student’s ability to behave like a good little assembly line factory worker. Embarrassingly, we’ve failed to innovate those practices in the face of an automated workforce.

I’m trying to remind myself that the standards I have been conditioned to hold myself to were rooted in patriarchal colonizer capitalist bullshit, and that those standards have become functionally obsolete.

I’m trying to remind myself that organic creativity is a skill that is difficult to automate, and that my zoomy brain is more of an asset than a liability in this changing world.

I will update when I can, but my priorities are as follows:

  • Tiny Human Care / Protection
  • Mental Health
  • Partner Care
  • Grad School
  • Housework
  • Discord Community
  • Side Biz Obligations
  • Blogging

I guess what I’m trying to say is, you should probably subscribe if you want updates.

They’ll be random.

Much like my brain.

New Year Things

The past five years have been a wild ride. ESPECIALLY the past two.

In January of 2017 I had a bit of a mental breakdown. This is to be expected when one has hit their limit of enduring circumstances that brought more chaos than peace. I loathed my line of work, but it was the only industry I could get hired in. I loathed where I lived, but my (then) partner refused collaborate on changing our circumstances. I was miserable in my relationship, but felt trapped, financially.

I was STUCK.

Until I decided to just… not be stuck anymore.

It wasn’t that simple, obviously.

It entailed finding a therapist, admitting that was not happy, and (gasp!) asking for help

The funny thing is, people love helping. Despite this, the idea of actually ASKING for help felt insurmountable. Somewhere along the lines I had internalized the idea that my needs were inconvenient or annoying to others. (I suppose that is bound to happen when you were born into cultural traditions where children were bred to be farm laborers and/or seen but not heard.)

I started over. Again. I left those environments. I let the credit cards go into default. I applied for assistance. I worked part time as a behavior therapist. I started working on my health.

It was one of those “it gets worse before it gets better” situations. I made some terrible interpersonal / situational judgement calls while trying to find my way to some semblance of peace.

Things did get better, though. SO much better. I realized my support needs and limits. I got better at communicating those limits and holding boundaries. I found a companion willing to assist me with those things on my terms.

And then… As if from nowhere…. THE POWERS THAT BE thrust me toward a career path that I…. Love? A cool thing about living in a small town is that the hiring pool is a lot smaller, so it’s a lot easier to stand out as an acceptable candidate. I started working in elementary schools, providing reading interventions to kiddos with different learning support needs. I was actually EXCITED to go to work — a drastic shift from the dread that had been weighing me down for so many years.

On a HOLISTIC level, everything started to improve…. Including my endocrine dysfunction, and consequently, my ovulatory cycles. After more than a decade of believing that PCOS had barred me from achieving motherhood through pregnancy, I found myself knocked up. This was a very welcome pregnancy, as it was something my companion and I had discussed in-depth, and fully intended to work towards.

So, in late 2019, I had a baby.

And then, in early 2020, the whole world shut down.

The initial plan was to go back to work after maternity leave ran out… But the pandemic brought a change in plans, as childcare options disappeared and schools shut down. I found myself stuck in perpetual maternity leave: caring for a tiny human with quirky medical support needs whilst finally finishing my bachelors degree.

It sucked.

I mean, the kiddo was rad…. But I was told there would be a village. (There was no village.) In times like these, I saw other new moms lean on grandparents & aunties for respite. The only grandparents to be spoken of were unfit to care for infants, out of area, or both. As far as “Aunties” go, the only options were individuals being intentionally reckless in rebellion against medical guidance, or those who were so petrified by that guidance that they bunkered down in fear, refusing any degree of human contact. In these times it was difficult to find peers aspiring for balance between those two extremes.

It was HARD, but I survived the damned thing.

I survived the damned thing because my support needs were met.

I was stressed to all heck under impossible circumstances… But this time I had a therapist I could debrief with, a home where division of labor was a collaborative effort, and a partner who was willing/able to take the lead when mama needed a frickin break. As it turns out, that makes a hell of a difference.

I’ve been over here playing whack-a-mole in the midst of an onslaught of increasingly apocalyptic world events. Then I turn around, and two years have passed.

It is 2022.

It sort of BREAKS MY BRAIN to process how many drastic life changes have happened in the past 5 years since I decided to start over again.

The wild thing is, the changes keep coming.

In a couple weeks, I am slated to start my Masters program studies. As of a couple days ago, I have been recommended for admissions to a Master of Arts in Education with a Credential to become a School Counselor.

I can’t quite go back to work yet full time, as my kiddo’s therapy docket makes it a bit difficult to adhere to a traditional work schedule. I substitute as a reading tutor here and there, to keep from slowly slipping into madness…. But that’s about all I can commit to with circumstances as they are.

(I mean, I sure as heck don’t want to start making my student loan payments.)

So, Masters program it is.

Based on the way things are trending, by the time I graduate, my kiddo’s support needs will likely have evolved in a way that will allow me to go back to “real” work whilst assuring that his developmental needs are being met.

It sort of all works out timing wise, considering these past two years have traumatized an entire generation of school kids… One can anticipate that the demand for school counselors and/or psychologists to rise in the coming years.

Moving forward, I intend to trust myself a little more. If I could survive the fustercluck that has been life up until this point, I probably don’t need to waste so much energy second-guessing myself.

Wish me luck, yeah?

~Gracie