Everyone loves a good epilogue, right?! I’ve been thinking about restarting this blog for over a year now, but so much has happened that I didn’t know where to start. And for awhile, there were many topics that felt off-limits to write about. But I need to tell my story, in hopes that it helps me find and connect with others on a similar path. I really loved the community and connection I was building when I had this blog. So, I’m back. To be clear: this story is my own. I do not mean to throw any shade at anyone at any point in telling this story, and I truly do not hold resentments towards anyone. I am sorry if parts of this story are hard for you to read, or if you don’t like that I am telling it. But I need to tell it, in writing. I am grateful for the path of self-discovery that I have been on, I wouldn’t change it for anything, and I am coming at this from a place of joy and acceptance. There are many sides to any story, and this story is mine and mine alone.

Part 1: 2020-2022: The Foundations

When we left off, Patches was dead. The pandemic was starting. Everyone on the planet hunkered down. We built a house in Chelan. We made it through COVID. Our twins learned to walk. Sam started kindergarten. I got promoted a few times at work. I over-indexed my self-worth on work. I piled on more and more stress. I self-medicated with alcohol (you know, in like a culturally-acceptable mommy wine time sort of way). And I reached a point in late 2021 where I felt lost. I didn’t understand my purpose in life, and I was swimming in an existential crisis. Actually, you can see it right here in these photos.

This was me at the end of 2021, then at the end of 2022, and now, the end of 2023. At the end of 2021, you can see that my eyes were nearly dead inside. My face frozen and puffy. The compulsion to find my next drink had suddenly become.. something else. Something a bit more sinister. But I had this little itch in the back of my head that said “Kelly, go find yourself. You are more than this.”

And so I did. I learned about atomic habits and how to replace bad habits with better ones. It started with a dry January in the beginning of 2022. But I knew this wasn’t just a January thing. The first few months of not drinking were very hard. I had stored up a lot of unprocessed trauma and emotions that I had to learn to sit with and work through. I started exploring my life “why” and my personal values. Then, sometime in May of 2022, I got COVID while Erin was out of town on a 2-week business trip. I muscled my way through it, juggling the kids and feeling generally alright, but a few weeks later — BAM. It hit. Burnout. I remember I was in a 1:1 with my boss, and I just started crying. Life had become unmanageable. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t live the way I was living. So I stopped. I took a few days off to rest. I went to the spa. I took care of myself. For the first time in my life, I put myself first because I had to. And I started really paying attention to which activities sucked away my energy and which activities gave me energy.

The thing about giving up alcohol is it forces you to build a life that you don’t have to escape from. And I reached a breaking point where I had to face what was unmanageable. At this point, I was also going pretty deep in my trauma work. Processing emotional flashbacks from essentially my whole life up until that point, as well as the lives of my parents and their parents. I remember one day in the spring, I listened to Hymn to the Sea (the main score from Titanic) on repeat while exploring the generational trauma that my family had endured. I had this sudden clarity that I had cleared my heart chakra, even though I didn’t even know I believed in chakras, and I developed this deep sense of empathy and forgiveness for my family. Anyway, my point is that I was utterly exhausted from work, kids, and deep internal work. And a few days of rest wasn’t gonna cut it. This was a big hole I had to figure out how to crawl my way out of. I was on a journey, as if I was pulling on a thread, unsure where it would take me next, but I couldn’t stop now.

Around the same time, I discovered a new-to-me style of dance called shuffling. Shuffling is rooted in EDM culture. It started as a rave thing. I discovered it on TikTok, and after learning some of the basic moves from TikTok tutorials, I tried an in-person class. Something about the strong beats, the teacher, and the type of movement has become a real accelerator for my trauma release work and my healing journey. When I first started attending classes, I felt SO nervous and out of place. Who am I, this late-30s mom, hanging out with all these young ravers? What am I doing here? Am I allowed to be here? Why is my body so frozen? But I kept going because I just felt like I needed to, and like shuffling was really helping me reconnect with my body and my soul.

Now we’re at mid summer of 2022. At this point, the red flags in my marriage were very red, although I didn’t realize how red they were because I guess you never know where someone else stands until they tell you. We had a few conversations about what wasn’t working for us. I expressed that I wanted more connection. Erin typically wanted more space. In retrospect, it was a pretty textbook anxious-avoidant relationship. Erin expressed to me that he felt like I was checked out and not paying attention, which made him angry because then he felt like he had to take care of the kids. This point was totally valid. Yes, I was checked out. It was hard for me to engage with the kids because they always wanted daddy, and given how exhausted I was with my actual work and my healing work, sometimes I’d just let them go for daddy. Over this time period, I was also managing a team of 8 people at work, many of whom were based in India. My work hours were essentially constant. Also, I should add that Sam wasn’t in afterschool care for a good chunk of that school year, and it truly was exhausting getting everyone through pickup and dinner. By the time Erin would come home, yes, I would collapse.

But I took this feedback to heart, and I really tried to step it up and refocus my life on what mattered. Throughout the summer and fall, I focused on reducing my work hours and commitments to try to get on top of my burnout. I also worked on being more proactive with the kids. I tried to find new ways to connect with them and rebuild my relationships with them individually. It was mostly working, although I still felt like something wasn’t right about my brain.

In the fall of 2022, Sam was also having a really hard time in school. Struggling with taking the bus to aftercare, behind on reading, and he was just completely overwhelmed. I noticed that he was also having a hard time focusing. I can’t remember what made me want to get an ADHD assessment, but I believe it was a combination of what I was feeling in myself and seeing in Sam that prompted me to get one.

So I got an assessment, and yep, I have ADHD. I researched more about what ADHD is like, especially in women. Rejection sensitivity dysphoria. A constant buzz of hyperactivity. Anxiety in the form of intrusive thoughts. Just to name a few things. This explained a lot. But it didn’t explain everything. I kept going on the neurodivergent research path (a new special interest!) and stumbled upon something called AuDHD. People who are Autistic and ADHD. I found a bunch of AuDHD women on TikTok… Oh no. No. This can’t be me. No. No. Hmm. Maybe? Oh crap. Then I read more about the latest research on Autism. For those who don’t know, a number of years ago, Asperger’s and Autism were combined into one thing, Autism Spectrum Disorder, with different levels of severity. It was also around this time that the medical establishment decided that someone could get diagnosed with both Autism and ADHD. It used to be that you could only get diagnosed with one or the other. And the way Autism presents in women can be very different than the stereotypical view of Autism. Autistic women tend to be creative, intensely passionate about special interests (often focused on things like human psychology), and HIGHLY masking. Because from an early age, we are taught to be a certain way in society. So we focus our special interests on learning how to mask and mirror other people. I looked at myself. I looked at Sam on the soccer field. Oh no. There was just no question.

No, I don’t have an official diagnosis. Because it’s expensive, there’s no value in getting one as an adult, and the Autistic community says self-diagnosis is valid. If you’re about to invalidate me and say “we’re all a little Autistic,” eat shit. I don’t want to hear it (and you might want to think about why you are so complacent if you are also suffering so much). I took ALL the quizzes. I read many books, most notably Unmasking Autism. I’m not looking for sympathy with this or for your opinion on whether it is valid. It was like the missing piece of understanding myself had finally been found. The crazy thing about Autism is that it’s a sensory processing disorder, so it basically affects you in every single aspect of your life. I never understood why I felt like I didn’t fit in. Why I was always a fringe character in any social group. Why I’d get in trouble for being too blunt or saying things the wrong way. Why I loved spinning in circles. Why I started passing out in preschool due to sensory overload. Why I’m so clumsy and accident prone, and why I often don’t feel pain. Why I have such a strong sense of justice. Why I have a tendency to be fiercely loyal. Why I tend to prefer writing and typing over speaking. Why I lived in this constant state of extreme dysregulation and dissociation. Why my elementary school friends told me I was trying to be too much like them. Why I’m so skilled at pattern recognition. Why I could only use one small computer monitor at work, otherwise I’d get a headache. Why I go nonverbal when I’m overwhelmed. Why I hate grocery shopping. Why I constantly talk to myself. Why my coworker Jody would say “there’s something very weird about you…” (Thank you Jody!). My excessive exercising and alcohol consumption. My live-long love for dancing (the OG stim, baby!). Did other factors inform some of these behaviors? Certainly. But I have no doubt that my Autism was a BIG factor.

If you’re thinking “oh Kelly, don’t be so dramatic. That’s not how it was,” again, it’s because I hid it. Like a duck. Sort of smooth on the surface (but not actually smooth), with extreme turmoil underneath. I was constantly managing sensory overload and social challenges, all while masking very heavily. The me you saw was usually not actually me. It was a masked version of me, faking it to exist without even realizing it. I thought that’s just how you’re supposed to be. In some settings, I’d lower this mask, but I was definitely not ever living authentically. This is why I had such a deep, life-long interest in human psychology. I could not get to the root of my internal turmoil until I discovered this. I had been taking SSRIs and doing somatic-based therapy for nearly 7 years at that point, but it was only sort of helping. And finally.. it. all. made. sense. Still doubting me? Maybe ask yourself why.

The thing about hitting neurodivergent burnout is that you can’t mask like you once could. I had gotten okay at faking it. I was climbing the corporate ladder and perfecting my corporate mask. I was on the path to becoming a head of product someday! (The Mask Champion!) That would mean I’ve made it! I would carefully practice what I’d say in every conversation or meeting, no matter how small or trivial that conversation might have seemed to someone else. Because I couldn’t be too blunt, but I also couldn’t be too soft (You need leadership presence, but don’t be a bitch). I had to rehearse the words so they’d come out just right. Self-camera always on so I could make sure I was making the right facial expressions. Rewatching my meetings to see how I could have performed better. I had to thread the needle perfectly, and for someone who struggles just to speak in many contexts, this stress of always masking to perfection… well, it broke me.

I started to unpack all of this. Reprocess my memories and life view through a neurodivergent lens. I started implementing some sensory-related concepts with Sam and myself. Got a sensory swing. Tried to lower the amount of demands I was putting on Sam. Let him hang out in his little bed full of stuffed animals to recover from his day and eat peanut butter & Nutella sandwiches as many times in a row as he wanted to. Turned his room into a Floor is Lava obstacle course. Sorted LEGOs. And I started doing similar things. I spent a lot of time laying down. Also laying in the sensory swing. Taking note of how many social spoons I had in a given week and making sure I wasn’t over-exerting myself. I also started on some ADHD meds, which really helped me tease these things apart. Suddenly, my Autism seemed much more obvious. I loved arranging things. Organizing. Cleaning as a method of regulating myself. The constant humm in my brain was quieted. The compulsion to frenetically scroll the internet on my phone diminished. The task paralysis that I lived in suddenly flipped on its head–I was diving into all kinds of shit without thinking about it. Unmedicated, it’s like I’m a living paradox. The ADHD side craving novelty and chaos; the Autism side needing routine and structure. Hating clutter but unable to stay on top of it.

It was a lot to think about, but it was starting to pay off! I was feeling better about work. My team was awesome, and we were working on good problems. I felt more engaged with the kids. Sam was doing better. I found joy in shuffling and running and mountain biking and some creative pursuits. I rediscovered figure skating. Things were going better with my parents. I was nearly a year sober. I was starting to let go of the neurotypical standard that I had been trying to live by and accept that I am who I am. By doing all these things, I was able to tap into a new source of energy, love and joy that I hadn’t found before. Life was much brighter, all around.

But there was just one problem. Erin. I figured our distance was a temporary thing. Some hard baby and COVID years taking a toll. Now that the dust was settling, and now that I had recentered myself and found more capacity to take on the family load, I could give him space to do the same, we could rebuild our relationship, and maybe even have a better relationship than we’d ever had. Perfect plan! So logical!

Except, that’s not what Erin wanted. He wanted out. This is not intended to throw any shade at Erin. I know he did everything he could to stay together for as long as we could. I know his decision was extremely painful for him, and I have a lot of respect for that. It was a decision we needed to make… one that I probably wouldn’t have made for a long time. I also know that he was a big part of me getting to the point that I had gotten to. I couldn’t have done it without the stability he provided me. I know that I created a void for him when I focused so heavily on my healing. By putting myself first in order to save myself, I broke the pattern of our relationship, and I know that deeply hurt and frustrated him. I know he watched me go on this journey, and for some reason, he didn’t go on it with me. We all evolve in different ways and at different speeds throughout life. I had definitely shrunk myself to fit into the marriage, and as I found more of my joy and became more of myself, our incompatibilities became more obvious. Towards the end of 2022, I felt some rumblings that things weren’t great, but I didn’t realize how close we were to the breaking point.

Part 2: 2023: The Great Upheaval

2023 was…intense. I could easily write a whole book about 2023, as I experienced many layers of loss, grief, joy, and growth. Instead of writing a novel right here, I’ll try to summarize it first. And then I’ll probably write more detailed posts unpacking some of these topics further. If there are any topics you really want to read about, let me know!

In a nutshell:

• I got blindsided by divorce. I came to terms with this over and over and over again throughout the year. Like an ugly intrusive thought that wouldn’t quit. I had to learn to let go and accept a decision that wasn’t mine. And I worked through the divorce settlements amicably, without lawyers
• I experienced a major upheaval at work. My boss left. His boss left. Many of my best team members left as well. My team was negatively impacted by an org change. I said something to the new person because I believed that was in the best interest of the company and my team. Ultimately, I got laid off for it. I consider this a win in terms of developing my leadership style, but I got laid off right in the middle of the divorce process, which was…uh, stressful. It was truly a gift to be laid off when I was, though. To get the time to move into my new place and rest and grieve and just be a human. It allowed me to be more present for the kids. To be freed from those golden handcuffs. To question what I really want in terms of work. To learn to trust the universe. Could I have handled all of that better? Of course. Do I regret it? Not at all
• I experienced quasi-homelessness during the phase where we alternated which parent was in the house with the kids. This sucked. A lot
• I grieved the loss of my marriage, deeply. At every angle I could
• I grieved the loss of our family of 5, as well as Ovie, who I relinquished in the divorce agreements (he’s dying of cancer, by the way). I grieved the loss of Chelan and the little life we had built. Of the dreams we had
• I grieved the loss of my in-laws. While yes, I recognize that they are all still here and this may continue to evolve over time, it was still a big loss for me
• I grieved the loss of our au pair, who lived with us for over 3 years! She is still nearby, but she was a big part of our daily life
• I processed and explored the relationship dynamics in my marriage and my childhood family. I thought about what I could have done differently, where I made the dynamic worse. I did a lot of inner child work
• I started working on rebuilding my friendships and kid community
• I sold the Seattle house, and I did a TON of work to get it ready. I sold it just days before I would have been totally cash broke. And I grieved the loss of a place that was home to so many memories for our family. I grieved this deeply as I repainted pretty much all the interior walls
• I navigated a co-parenting relationship that seems to have gotten a bit more complicated as time goes by. I am learning to truly let go of what I cannot control, focus on showing up in the best way that I can for my kids, and reserving some hope that these things go in waves and there will be a better tomorrow
• I rediscovered parts of my identity that I had left behind, particularly my love for making art. This year, that took place in the form of marker drawings and sporadic woodworking.
• I explored cannabis and mushrooms, which have allowed me to process all these changes in a much more profound way
• I experienced what I would describe as a spiritual awakening and a much deeper connection with the universe
• I went deep into the law of detachment, as I navigated life without a job or a marriage and sometimes my kids. All the things I thought I cared about!
• I navigated my autistic burnout and figured out how to simplify my life so that I don’t deplete my executive functioning skills so quickly. I still continue to struggle with managing my burnout and sudden bouts of exhaustion and sensory overload, especially in large social situations. But we’re getting there.
• I helped my kids adjust to a two-home life, as well as new schools, without dropping toooo many f-bombs (okay, this depends on your bar for f-bombs around children. And I always said sorry afterwards.)
• I released a TON of trauma that was stuck in my body. Starting with my rib cage. Then my back. Head. Neck. Throat. Lungs. Face. Jaw. Ears. You can see it in the picture between 2022 and 2023. So much cracking of the connective tissue that was frozen. So much gunk flowing out. As this has happened, my asthma has mostly gone away, my vision has improved, my TMJ is almost gone, and my senses are WAY stronger (which…make me more prone to sensory overload)
• I reconnected with my hometown of Cleveland, OH. I saw some of my favorite people from my early life, with a much better awareness of why they were my favorites.
• I went to Poland with my sister to visit Treblinka, a Nazi death camp. It was a very profound experience that allowed me to finally put my existential crisis to rest
• I moved to the Eastside, to an apartment with 3 swimming pools. We swam a lot this summer. We rode bikes to get ice cream. We ate a ton of popsicles
• I faced some of my most stubborn mountain biking fears. I rode some trails at Whistler that I couldn’t ride the year before
• I did a lot of things by myself, and I loved it. I learned to love myself and enjoy my own company
• I learned how to manage 3 young, grieving, neurodivergent children on my own without any local family. This was particularly hard when both twins would refuse to walk at the same time. At first, the thought of a weekend alone with the kids terrified me. But over time, we’ve gotten better at managing meltdowns, providing everyone with the right level of autonomy, and working together as a team. We’ve learned what works and what doesn’t, and I see new, delightful sides of these kids every day. I now think of myself as our team captain, and I’ve developed much stronger connections with each child. We went from a chorus of “I hate you, mommy” / “I want daddy” to one of “I love you”
• I tried online dating for the first time in my life, which was fun, and I learned a lot. Every interaction was an opportunity to unpack something about myself–to explore whether a trigger was something I needed to address in myself vs something I need to ask someone else for. To grieve and process pieces of my past relationships. Right as I was about to take a break for awhile, I found someone who is on a very similar healing journey, and it’s really…something different 🙂
• Instead of fearing and avoiding them, I learned how to lean into my triggers. To sit with the feelings and release them
• I got off my SSRIs! (I was on them for more than 10 years)
• I spent a ton of time laying on the floor, just processing my thoughts
• I discovered a bunch of new music that I love. I played more guitar and bought a synthesizer. I also just bought a device that I can hook into my synthesizer so I can listen to the sounds of mushrooms. I made a shitty remix of “The Circle of Life”
• I figured out how to make my apartment a neurodivergent-friendly home
• I learned how to rest and comfort myself. I felt peace for the first time in my whole life. I applied these same principles to my kids, and it is working. We all had a ton of dysregulation and grief to unravel, but each day gets a little brighter. A little easier to navigate
• I found a new job in a tough job market and started it. I am continuing to learn how to do good-enough work without it consuming me
• I took on the role of Sam’s afterschool care teacher because I knew he needed more downtime, and I can see that it’s helping
• I had some really fun shuffle moments, as well as some confusing ones
• I questioned the role of marriage, monogamy, the nuclear family, and capitalism on our modern sense of community and belonging
• If you made it this far, the secret code is milkshake. DM me and I’ll send you a surprise
• I did all this without a single drop of alcohol, and I don’t even really think about it anymore
• And.. classic, I dyed my hair and got a tattoo!

So yeah… it was a lot. And like I do, I approached this healing and grieving process with an AuDHD intensity of a thousand suns. I have finally arrived at a sense of peace and calm in this new life. I feel like the bulk of the grief is behind me, and I now have a bit of energy to think about what’s next. Who will I be after I emerge from this pre-butterfly gooey mess? It’s like the old me is gone, but I don’t exactly know who the new me is yet. And my mind and body are still a little confused about the whiplash from this journey. So, yeah. If I stare at you like I don’t quite know what to say, this is why. This is why. But I’m so glad that I’m here. Welcome. Hi, I’m Kelly.