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Staying Grounded When Life Gets Loud (An AuDHD Guide to Not Spiraling)

The past few months have been… a lot. Not in the dramatic, “you won’t believe what happened next” way, but in the quieter, relentless way life can stack things: family responsibilities, travel, deadlines, health scares, decision-making, uncertainty, caregiving, celebrations, grief, joy, and exhaustion — all layered like sediment until you realize you’re carrying an entire landscape inside your chest. If you’re AuDHD like me, seasons like this can feel especially disorienting. Our brains don’t move neatly through chaos; they absorb it, echo it, and sometimes spin it right back at us. One curveball can throw off routines for weeks. One unexpected obligation can take the entire deck down with it. And yet… we still show up. Even if it’s messy. Even if we’re tired. Even if the to-do list looks like a hydra that grows two more tasks every time we check one off. So here are the things that helped me stay grounded — or at least kept me from spiraling completely — during a month that asked more of me than I had to give. 1. I let the rhythms of the kitchen hold me. Cooking has always been my anchor. It’s sensory, structured, and forgiving. Even when everything else felt unpredictable, I could still fold dough, steep herbs, or simmer something warm and familiar. That’s the same grounding rhythm that shapes Blossom & Root: using food as a way back to yourself, as I wrote in the cookbook intro . When my brain feels chaotic, the kitchen reminds me that creation doesn’t have to be linear — it just has to be honest. 2. I allowed “good enough” to be enough. AuDHD perfectionism hits especially hard during stressful seasons. Suddenly everything feels like make-or-break: every decision, every email, every plan. This month, “done” became better than “ideal.” Mediocre and finished helped more people than perfect and never started. And honestly? Most people can’t tell the difference. 3. I used micro-routines instead of long ones. When life gets loud, long routines fall apart. Trying to maintain them just adds guilt. So I leaned into micro-routines — small actions that kept my nervous system from overheating: • One cup of tea brewed with something grounding (lavender, lemon balm, elderflower — like the ones in my Infusions section ). • One surface tidied. • One step of a recipe prepped and left visible (my ADHD sheet-pan staging trick). • One walk outside the house or across the ranch. • One five-minute reset between tasks. Small things count. They add up. 4. I stopped trying to “keep up” and focused on what mattered that day. Not the week. Not the month. Not the entire list that makes my brain want to leave the chat. Just today. What actually needed to happen? What actually mattered? It turns out only about 30% of what my brain insisted was urgent… actually was. And when I cut out the noise, I could hear myself again. 5. I reminded myself that overwhelm isn’t failure — it’s information. AuDHD brains don’t just get overwhelmed — they signal overwhelm. Loudly. Physically. Emotionally. Through sensory overload, decision fatigue, or shutdown. Instead of pushing through it this time, I tried something different: I listened. What was too much? What needed to be simplified? What needed to wait? Where could I ask for help? Overwhelm was a map. Not a verdict. 6. I gave myself permission to rest without earning it. This one is the hardest. But rest isn’t a reward. It’s maintenance. And rest doesn’t have to look like lying down. For me, it sometimes looks like: • Wandering the garden. • Stirring something slow in a pot. • Snuggling a cat. • Playing Stardew Valley for 20 minutes. • Doing absolutely nothing productive. That kind of rest is what helped me stay human through everything. ⸻ If you’re in a season like this… you’re not alone. Life doesn’t pause when you’re overwhelmed. And being neurodivergent doesn’t make you weak — it makes you deeply attuned. It makes you feel everything. It makes you notice everything. It makes you carry more than people realize. But it also gives you creativity, intuition, resilience, and a way of moving through the world that’s beautifully yours. If you’ve been stretched thin lately, come sit with me for a moment. Breathe. Take something off your plate. Lower the bar. Drink some tea. Let dinner be simple. Let emotions be loud and valid. Let yourself be human. You’re doing far better than you think. — Kim

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