:: This morning, my online writing group came together like we do every Friday, and we were all feeling the same way: overwhelmed, exhausted, drowning. My wise friend Lisa Cooper Ellison said, It looks like we’re all in the muck. Muck. Yes. That was exactly the right word. 

Dear Friends,

This morning, my online writing group came together like we do every Friday, and we were all feeling the same way: overwhelmed, exhausted, drowning. My wise friend Lisa Cooper Ellison said, It looks like we’re all in the muck.

Muck. Yes. That was exactly the right word.

Then Lisa suggested that we all take a moment to briefly describe the muck, name it. Then immediately after, name what we’re grateful for.

It was like a spiritual cleanse. A release.

For my part, my muck is this:

(1) I’ve been overwhelmed with the quantity of work that I’ve taken on. So much work, I don’t know where to begin. As someone with AuDHD, this feeling of intense overwhelm can lead to my not knowing where to start and avoiding the work completely.

(2) Then, at the same time, I feel like my work is pointless. I feel like I’m on a hamster wheel going nowhere fast. That the payoff that might come from all of this work is so far in the future it might never come. I’m shouting into the void. And this feeling is compounded by what I see as failure after failure (friends, the rejections from lit mags alone. I haven’t published short writing since this time last year.)

And of course, there’s the pointlessness of trying to do all of this work when the world is (still) on fire. Fire, everywhere. I know that art still matters, indeed it REALLY matters, in the face of injustice. But does MY art matter? Should I change what I’m doing to make it matter more? (Which sends me back the #1.)

And these things are only my professional life.

What it comes down to, for me, as someone with my neurodivergent traits who is also a human living on earth in 2026, is this:

• I feel like I’m only as good as my last win.
• I feel like any rejection is more powerful than any success. Failures LOOM. Successes fade.
• I feel like if my books aren’t earning money or my essays don’t have the imprimatur of a magazine, then they’re not worth reading. Publishing an essay here, on my blog, is a failure.

If you’re paying attention, you’ll see all of my hauntings lead to one place, summed up like this: What I produce equals how valuable and how lovable I am as a human being. I spend my life running away from a voice that whispers incessantly, You are not good enough. 

Which, of course, is bullshit.

If you are in the muck, I recommend you try what we did today. Get out your notebook or preferred writing method and then write: 

1. A *brief* list of the muck. Don’t dwell on it—just name it. Write “Muck,” underline it, then list it out.
2. A list of everything you’re grateful for. Beneath the muck, write “Grateful,” underline it, then list it out. But when you dive into what you are grateful for, don’t hold back. Write and write and tell stories about sledding with your kids and nieces and nephews on that amazing snow day, and how your kids are sensitive and loving and kind, and how your puppy has become your friend, not the same friend that your dog who died last year was, but a new kind of friend, and you love him too.

Times are dark. We need to focus on our gratitude more than ever.

A Reminder: Free Masterclass THIS Monday, “Navigating IEP Meetings with Confidence”

For those of you who are parents of neurodivergent kids and those kids attend traditional schools, I’m giving a free, online masterclass on how to navigate IEP (individualized education program) meetings with confidence. It is 1 hour long with a Q and A, on Monday, Feb. 9, at 1pm ET. If you can’t make it, you can watch the replay that I will send out by email.

Register here: iepmasterclass.katiepryal.com.