If you ever find yourself scratching your head at the things I say, and how I say them, you can simply think, Oh, she’s neurodivergent. But that’s just a label. It doesn’t define who I am, and I don't wear it like a badge of honour. For me, it’s simply an aha moment — one that helps me understand why I sometimes do silly things. It allows me to own those moments without beating myself up. I can make people laugh at my dry sense of humour — sometimes purposely, sometimes inadvertently. My kids, however, just roll their eyes. But I almost digress. My mother lost a toe to diabetes, which makes her vulnerable to the smallest abrasion. Something that might seem insignificant, like a superficial wound, can quickly turn into an ulcer and become life-threatening. So we need to keep a close eye on anything suspicious. My sister was away the other day and the task of redressing and attending to Mum's wound care fell to yours truly. Now, I like structure. I like everything in its place, s...

Everything has pros and cons. But when I have to weigh up the pros and cons in my life, I’ll devote this post to my car-related ones. Pros: Good driver. Cons: Leaving the engine running while I did the shopping. Leaving the keys in the car door and walking away, which is my latest faux pas — Whoops, I did it again. And getting into the wrong bloody car. But this story isn’t just about my bloody keys. It’s about the person behind them. It’s about something I’ve spent most of my life getting wrong. Me. I thought I was the “nice girl but not very bright girl.” Every forgotten key, wrong turn, lost thought, brain fart or ditzy moment seemed to reinforce that idea, causing me debilitating anxiety, turning me into a chronic drinker. I’d convinced myself that not being able to recount or explain things when others could was my biggest Achilles heel. Even writing my own little script before an important phone call could scramble the words on paper, making them illegible. I remember calling our...