Velocity cheapens presence.Taurus season, steady and defiant, restores the architecture of self—compelling not ascent, but descent: into the body, into the blood, into the gravity from which all true power emanates.
Hint: It Begins Where Words Cannot Goby Chaotic Goodisms
There are days when I feel like a mosaic of mismatched parts—an archivist of old wounds, an oracle of untamed hope, a body that remembers too much and a mind that cannot forget. To be whole in a world built on fracture feels like a quiet rebellion. And rebellion, my friends, takes stamina.
Let’s be honest: Traditional therapy has its merits, but if you’re a neurodivergent woman trying to heal in a system built for linear thinkers and emotionally minimalist robots… you’re probably exhausted. You’ve journaled until your hand cramped. You’ve nodded politely while someone with no trauma history told you to “try mindfulness.” And still—you’re left raw, overstimulated, and suspicious of every beige couch and softly murmured “mmm-hmm.”
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For years, society has told ADHD individuals that their brains are broken. That they need to be medicated into compliance, molded into something more manageable, and taught to operate in a way that makes everyone else comfortable. But what if we have it all backward? What if ADHD isn’t a disorder, but a dopaminergic advantage—a neurobiological blueprint that’s wired for creativity, innovation, and deep, obsessive passion?
The tricky part? Trauma and intuition feel eerily similar in the body. They both live in your nervous system, they both offer cryptic advice, and they both want you to avoid pain. But here’s the catch:
What if, at seven years old, you learned the hardest lesson of your life? Not in a classroom, not from a mentor, but on the side of I-80 in the middle of Wyoming. What if the teacher was your own mother, and the lesson was this: You are unlovable. You are disposable. And no one is coming to save you.
Well, it’s like upgrading the software of your brain—except instead of a “loading bar,” you’ve got self-doubt, societal programming, and that one time you tripped in front of your crush in high school all vying for your attention. Welcome to the fascinating, often frustrating, but deeply transformative world of mindset shifts.
Chaotic Goodisms is more than just a blog – it's a movement. Our mission is to empower individuals who have been marginalized or silenced, encouraging them to embrace their true selves and stand out in a world that demands conformity.
I’ve been called a lot of things in my life—therapist, philosopher, scapegoat, professional overthinker, and, occasionally, “intimidating” (which, let’s be honest, is just what people say when they don’t know how to handle a woman with well-articulated thoughts).
I created Chaotic Goodisms and It’s the Tism as a space for those of us who feel too much, think too deeply, and often wonder how everyone else is just… coasting. If you’ve ever found yourself spiraling into an existential crisis because someone called a meeting that could have been an email, or if you’ve ever been accused of “reading too much into things” when, in fact, you were simply reading them correctly—welcome home.
