Some days I’m not overwhelmed.
I’m not underwhelmed either.
I’m just… whelmed.
It’s a weird place to sit—this hazy middle ground. It’s like my brain is holding its breath, waiting to see which direction the wind’s going to blow. Will I float into flow and focus? Or am I about to spiral into the familiar chaos of too much, too fast, too loud?
Being neurospicy means that “whelmed” isn’t neutral. It’s not boring. It’s a glimmer of something precarious—a balance I know I probably won’t get to keep.
I want to enjoy it. Really, I do. But even in the moments where I manage to pause, sip some tea, get through a few tasks… there’s this shadow. A whisper. A tug in the back of my brain that says, This isn’t going to last. You’re probably forgetting something. Someone’s probably waiting on you. That text you didn’t reply to? That bill you meant to pay? The thing you said you’d do but didn’t write down?
And just like that, whelmed starts tipping.
It’s not doom, exactly. It’s vigilance. Hyperawareness. The subtle hum of potential disaster lurking just beyond the edge of awareness. Neurospicy folks know this hum well. Sometimes we call it executive dysfunction. Sometimes we call it being “on the verge.” Sometimes we just call it Tuesday.
So what do I do when I’m whelmed?
Honestly? I try to notice it.
Name it.
Say, “Oh hey, I’m whelmed today. Not drowning. Not numb. Just here.”
And sometimes that little moment of recognition gives me a foothold. A breadcrumb to come back to when things start sliding. Because being whelmed might be the closest I get to “fine.” And that’s worth noticing.
If you’re feeling whelmed today—neither flying nor flailing—you’re not alone. I see you. Let’s stay here for a moment together, gently, before the next wave.
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