2026 Learning to Write Again

The car turns on. My phone connects. I reverse out of my parking spot and begin the long drive home. I have time to reflect on the day and the choices I made. I get to do this at my own speed, uninterrupted in the quiet, with only my podcast to listen to.  The mental load begins to lift as the snow drifts down. This snow will not stick, even though it is covering the grass. This snow will melt and life will continue as we know it. It is the same with the worries and concerns from the day. They too will melt and life will continue as we know it. This snow feels like a reminder, or maybe that's how I'm choosing to see the world, that everything has its season. So too, do 8th graders have seasons. I'm not sure what this one is yet, but I am living for it day by day. As the windshield wipers remove the wet, the view clears again. Focus is important, but too much focus can blind us to other possibilities. I realize, as I pull into the garage that I feel lighter. I made a choice ...

 Today being the first of the month, I sat down with my notebook to give myself my monthly "Performance Review": did I meet my goals? What went well? What needs to change? How am I going to incorporate those changes? Did I complete my to do lists efficiently? February is the shortest month, but when your mind and body feel unregulated all of the days blur together like one, big, looming disaster. Upon looking at the various trackers and notes to myself I had left on the pages, I noticed a distinct, almost two full weeks, blank space in every one of them. While I could certainly blame going out of town, I took my notebook with me. I took my regulating systems with me. Maybe I could look to other areas to shift my blame? No. This is a year of accountability. Of learning not to simply survive, but thrive alongside my neurodivergence. I reviewed each page with intention, mentally noted each misstep that led to a bigger lapse that led to the ultimate breakdown of systems and patte...