Messy Minded Momma

He means dysregulated, but honestly, I like his version better.

Once every three to six months, my husband and I indulge in an edible gummy on a Saturday night after our son goes to bed. This ritual usually happens right around the time a new developmental stage has been unlocked and we are due for some giggles after battling our four-year-old for months.

We eat an edible, pull out the board games, and settle in for what we believe will be a relaxing evening.

This past Saturday, we decided we needed a mommy and daddy break. Our son has been having a bit of a rough stretch at school lately. His teacher says he’s disruptive during whole-group discussions, smiles and laughs when reprimanded, and avoids tidying up after exploration. While that sounds suspiciously like typical JK behaviour to me, I still take what his teacher says seriously. We work with him at home and try to make the classroom environment more pleasant for him, his teachers, and his peers.

Somewhere between a heated round of Scattergories and power ballads from the 80s and 90s, the edible kicked in and our conversation drifted, as edible conversations often do.

One minute we were staring at the letter E, trying to name a car part that starts with it, and neither of us could come up with engine or exhaust. (The brain power in the room was clearly declining.) Somewhere between that realization and the chorus of Mama, I’m Coming Home, my husband leaned back in his chair and casually announced:

“I think you’re regularly unregulated.”

I stared at him for a second trying to decide if that was the real psychological term or just the edible talking. While it doesn’t technically make sense, we both knew exactly what he meant and we laughed. Because honestly… he’s not wrong. I am a dysregulated individual. Something I didn’t fully realize until after I gave birth.

Neurodivergent brains experience and process the world a little differently. Sensory overload, communication differences, burnout, chronic stress. It all adds up. Then you sprinkle in OCD, anxiety, and the daily challenge of trying to co-regulate a four-year-old whose nervous system is still very much under construction. It’s no wonder I sometimes feel stuck in a permanent dysregulation loop.

My sister once said something to me that has stuck ever since. “For someone who always wears her hair down, you never actually let your hair down.” And she’s right.

My hair might technically be down most days, but it’s usually twisted into a claw clip, thrown into a half-bun, or tied up the moment life gets overwhelming. Because when things get busy, loud, or stressful, my nervous system does the exact same thing my hair does. It goes up.  And every once in a while, I let it down. I eat an edible gummy, play board games with my husband, and have deeply philosophical neurodivergent conversations about words like unregulated.

Because sometimes the best way to regulate a dysregulated brain is to laugh about how unregulated you actually are.


Daily writing prompt

Q: What is one word that describes you?
A: Dysregulated