Nickel Jar Reflections

  • |

    Quieting the Noise

    I grew up in the ’90s, when ADHD medication basically meant Ritalin and everybody had an opinion about “those kids.”

    So when my own five-year-old was diagnosed with ADHD?

    Absolutely not. Full stop. We will be exploring literally every other option, thankyouverymuch.

    Fast-forward eight years and I am now writing a blog post about why my autistic/ADHD kid takes a blood-pressure medication for his brain.

    😂 Parenting is humbling like that.

    This one is about 80′ babies turned 90’s Ritalin kids, one very determined mother, a pediatrician who used my own logic against me, guanfacine, nervous systems, sleep, and the fear I carried for years that medication might somehow dim Eli’s light.

    Spoiler: I had it backward.

    The medication wasn’t there to make him quieter for us.

    It was helping make things quieter for him.

    If you’ve ever had strong opinions about medicating kids—or wrestled with the decision yourself—I hope you’ll read this one.

  • | |

    He Never Asked to Leave

    I went into the party expecting the usual.

    A little anxiety. A little hovering. Maybe an early exit.

    Instead, Eli walked in, found his people, played outside, stayed engaged… and never once asked to leave.

    That sounds small.

    It wasn’t.

    This one is about what happens when years of therapy, hard work, maturity, and finally getting some actual sleep start showing up in the most ordinary places.

    And maybe more than that, it’s about how easy it is to keep preparing for the version of hard you already know—even when your child has quietly started growing past parts of it.

    If you’ve ever been so busy bracing for the hard part that you almost missed the progress happening right in front of you, read this one.

    You may recognize a win you haven’t given yourself—or your child—credit for yet.

  • |

    In My Laid Off Era

    I thought getting laid off was supposed to be devastating.

    And at first, it was scary. There was shock, uncertainty, and the very real panic of having a 20-year career path suddenly disappear beneath my feet.

    But once the dust settled, I realized something I did not expect:

    I was relieved.

    Work had become increasingly difficult, and while I was unhappy, I also knew I probably never would have left on my own. I cared too much about my team, felt too responsible for protecting them, and had spent too long standing between corporate decisions and the people affected by them.

    So the company made the decision I couldn’t bring myself to make.

    Honestly, I’ve had breakups that required less paperwork.

    And somewhere along the way, what initially felt like rejection started to feel a whole lot more like release.

    I’m still working. I still have deadlines. I still have plenty of things capable of irritating me before 9 a.m. 😂

    But my time feels like mine again.

    My laid-off era was definitely not on the vision board.

    Turns out, though?

    It looks pretty damn good on me.

  • |

    Hindsight

    I’ve told stories about how I edited parts of my life, compartmentalized others, masked pieces, and made myself smaller in order to keep things manageable — for me and for others. We’re not gonna rehash that here – if you need a catch-up, check out Ripple Effect and Taking Up Space. What we are gonna…