A Mind Elsewhere

Hi, friends. 👋

My name is Kass. I’m 34 years young, a mom, wife, artist, writer, nature-lover, and hopefully a new friend (if you want to be!). I’m also that girl with the forehead tattoo.

This is a bit of my and how I got here.

From Survival Mode to Self-Discovery

In 2018 I developed psychosis after self-medicating with drugs and alcohol for too many years. During that time, I experienced some of the darkest thoughts and mental health challenges of my life. With the help of a few chosen loved ones, mental hospitals, and mental health programs, I made it through.

But survival came at a cost. I was thrown around the system while professionals tried to “solve” the riddle of my brain. I was fed so many different drugs over two years I couldn’t name them all. I became a zombie…a shell of a person, really. Numb, confused, and more than a little broken inside.

I spent days to weeks at a time in and out of hospitals, rehab, inpatient and outpatient programs, and eventually Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT). I kept wondering why nothing (including the meds) seemed to help.

Like a Puzzle No One Could Solve

I felt like one of those bent metal wire puzzles the kind you have to twist just right to come apart…except no one could. Even though I was begging for help, nothing worked.

Every diagnosis imaginable was handed to me. No “aha” moment ever came. I even got addicted to a prescription after becoming dependent on it. Cue another hospital stay…

Eventually, someone gently suggested something new: I might be autistic.

The (un) Diagnosis That Made Everything Make Sense

I started learning what autism actually meant, and I knew. I don’t reject the other diagnoses as they may not have been wrong…but they definitely missed this one. Maybe someday I will look into an official diagnosis, but for now I don’t feel any need to. (More on that, later)

Looking back, I can see that my psychosis wasn’t random. It was the result of a severe autistic burnout that was made worse by the drugs and alcohol I was using to cope.

The truth is I had masked my entire life without even realizing what masking was, much less if/how I was doing it. Nonetheless, I masked so well that even professionals couldn’t see it.

Eventually, the mask fell. I overloaded myself with work, school, being a wife and mom…and then I broke. I ran on empty. Then into the ground. Then buried myself trying to live up to a world that wasn’t built for me.

“It’s Just a Game…”

That phrase haunted me during a mental breakdown. It echoed through every thought. It twisted everything and made chaos feel more real than reality.

The word psychosis became the thing I feared most.

Then that quiet suggestion came again: “You might be autistic.” And this time, I heard it.

I started digging. And there it was: a mirror I’d never seen. A language I hadn’t known I spoke. For the first time, my life made sense. Not just in fragments, but as a whole.

I’m autistic. Of course I am.

This diagnosis reframed everything: past, present, and even softened my fear of the future. It didn’t fix everything, but it explained everything.

Rebuilding

Fast forward to 2025: I’m nearly three years sober (with the exception of occasional 💨), working as a cake decorator and illustrator, and back in school finishing a degree I started years ago (third time’s a charm!).

I’m doing better than I have in years.

And what changed? That diagnosis. That missing puzzle piece. It’s why I’ve been able to stay sober. Why I’ve been out of the hospital for about four years now.

I’ve learned to work with my brain instead of constantly fighting it. I’ve found ways to survive and even thrive. Not always, but sometimes. And sometimes is more than I ever expected.

Why I’m Sharing This

Because I know what it feels like to be invisible, mislabeled, and lost in a system that doesn’t understand you. To carry pain in silence. To scream without sound. To beg for answers no one seems to have.

And I also know the strength it takes to keep going. The beauty that can come from surviving. From rebuilding. From being real.

These days, I write ✍️ and create to bring awareness to what it’s like to be neurodivergent in a world built for someone else. I make art to honor the pain I’ve lived through, and the strength I carry now.

I’m glad you’re here. 🫶🏻

Closing

Here, you’ll find stories about neurodivergence, mental health, addiction, recovery, survival, grief, healing, and the beautiful, messy in-between spaces. You’ll find art and writing that comes straight from my heart. You’ll find honesty. Softness. Fire. Maybe even some hope.

And while much of this space is rooted in survival and healing… I also write about motherhood, art, nature, and the little things that make life feel meaningful.

It all belongs. We all belong.

If you’ve ever felt broken, misdiagnosed, invisible, or like you’re still looking for the missing puzzle piece…I see you. I’ve been there.

You’re not alone.

Thanks for reading. For seeing me. I hope you see yourself here, too.

 

-the mom with the forehead tattoo

 

A quick note before you go:

I’m not a therapist or a mental health professional. I’m not here to tell anyone what to do or give clinical advice. I’m just someone who’s messed up, fallen apart, tried again, and lived through more than I ever thought I could. I’m still figuring things out. I share my story not because I’ve got it all worked out…because I don’t. But because I believe it matters to tell the truth while we’re still in it, to talk about the raw and real and uncomfortable.

If something here resonates or helps you in some way, that means the world to me. If not, that’s okay too. This space is just me…surviving out loud, figuring it out, and sharing the pieces along the way.

 

Also, here’s my dog, Tot. Because he is adorable and deserves all the love. <3