I am, truly, terrible at introductions.  I hate ice breakers – the part where people go around the room and introduce themselves, or say something, or whatever – gives me sweats. I literally spend the entire time building up to when I’m supposed to talk, blurt the information out, and then spend the rest of the time willing my heart rate to go back down.

If you can’t tell, I’m an introvert. (Or, as one of my best friends calls me when I’m being too attached to my couch: “a ridiculous introvert.”)

So here’s the basics:

I have the coolest job ever, in one of the coolest places ever, for an agency that I love more than anything. I’m a park ranger. Be jealous.

I have a Master’s degree in Public Health, a bachelor’s degree in music and history.  I have a thing for color coding. I love to cook, but I love to feed people more. My boyfriend benefits from this, but now it’s all channeled into care packages since he’s deployed.

He’s my favorite person, ya’ll.

In Fall of 2016, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease called Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis.  Suddenly, my life long struggle to lose weight and maintain a healthy balance, even against my anxiety issues, became crystal clear. By crystal clear, I mean the color of mud, and about as opaque. Maybe that was the wrong phrase to use.


Basically, my body treats my thyroid as something that needs to be attacked and eradicated. Except your thyroid controls some really important things, like your metabolism. That’s where the issues start. I’m working on figuring out life with Hashimoto’s and how to move forward with regaining control of my health with a body that is programmed to destroy things, and it’s a bumpy road. Medication helps, and I’m doing far better than I was. Be prepared for some tales of Medical Mayhem, because I can’t stay out of the hospital for too long.

I should probably mention now that this isn’t going to be a very kid-language friendly blog half the time. I like creative words. Most of the best ones are curses.

So here’s the ride: I want to be an adult, and I’m getting pretty good at it, as a late-20’s (ohgoddon’tremindme) park ranger with a cat and an apartment and a budding career as a dog bed (see above). But I don’t want to act like an adult all the time. That’s what this blog is for: being an adult, without acting like one.

Does this hat go with this statue?

Let’s get this show going, shall we?

I’m Alicia, and I’m an adult.