The Apple Disaster

I didn’t mean for my first blog post here to be about a phone.
I thought it would be something profound and polished. Something like: “Welcome, here’s my mission, let’s hold hands and heal together.”
Instead, it’s about an iPhone that almost sent me into orbit. And honestly? That’s exactly the point.

A Quick Refresher: The Chihuahua Philosophy
If you’ve already read the About page, you know where the name comes from. If you haven’t, here’s the short version:
Neurodivergent vs. neurotypical isn’t better vs. worse. It’s Chihuahua vs. Pit Bull.
Both are dogs.
Both can be wonderful.
Both are worthy of love.
But they are obviously different in how they move through the world, what they react to, and what they need to feel safe.

My brain is the Chihuahua in this metaphor: high-sensitivity, fast processing, easily overstimulated, deeply loyal, and very particular about its environment.
Most of the world is built for Pit Bulls and this blog exists because I am tired of being told my Chihuahua brain is “too much” instead of “just different.”

The Problem With “Hello, Nice to Meet You” Posts
When I finished the skeleton of this website, I knew I needed a first blog post. Not a fluffy “Hi, I’m Tonya, follow me!” Not another empty motivational quote. I wanted the first entry to show why this space matters. To make it clear why I needed something like The Chihuahua Philosophy in the first place.
I just didn’t know what moment to start with.
Then my new phone arrived and all hell broke loose.

Once Upon a Time, I Was an Apple Girl
For years, I was a die-hard Apple fan. iPhones, iPads, Macs. If it had a half-eaten apple on it, I loved it.
Then the Samsung Z Flip came out, and like a magpie spotting something shiny, I was seduced by that little fold-in-half party trick. It was pure novelty gold.
The problem? Just like almost everyone I know who bought one, it broke right along the crease.
So there I was: Still making payments on a phone that was basically a stylish paperweight.

For years after that, I fantasized about going back to my safe place, back to MY Apple. My tried and true. My old, faithful friend. So when my work camera started acting up, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea. Instead of buying a new camera and a new phone someday, I’d just buy one really good iPhone and let it be both. Save money. Simplify my life. Get a dual-purpose powerhouse.

Logically? It made perfect sense. I did my homework. I watched the videos. I read the guides. I compared models. I even got the big one, 1 TB, because I planned to load it up with all the apps and media I use for my business and my life. And I was proud of myself....for about five minutes.

Enter: The Today View and App Library (aka, My Personal Hell)
The moment I started using the phone, I ran into a wall.
Two, actually - The screen on the far left (Today View) and The screen on the far right (App Library)
Both have: little boxes, forced blur, layouts I can’t control, and “organization” that makes absolutely no sense to my brain.

So I did what any reasonable user would do. I tried to turn them off. I Googled. I YouTubed. I dug into Settings. I asked my AI copilot (Spock) how to get rid of these screens I don’t want, don’t use, and honestly cannot stand. And the answer was...You can’t! You cannot remove the Today View. You cannot remove the App Library. You cannot stop Apple from blurring your background behind them. You cannot control how the App Library arranges your apps. You cannot rename or reorder the little boxes. You cannot force it into a simple, logical list. These two screens are mandatory. They will exist whether you want them or not.

For a lot of people, that’s a mild annoyance. For my brain? It’s like someone rearranges my kitchen every time I blink, and then tells me to “just get used to it.”

Chaotic Toddler Wookie Design
The App Library, in particular, feels like it was organized by a chaotic toddler Wookie - Random boxes, categories I didn’t choose, apps grouped in ways that make zero internal sense, important things shoved into tiny corners. And I’m not allowed to fix it. Not rearrange. Not rename. Not reorder. Not flatten it into a simple list.

I tried to compromise. I tried changing the wallpaper so the blur wouldn’t bother me. I got it to a solid color so at least my nerves weren’t screaming… but then another problem kicked in. It broke my sense of connectivity. I need my screens to feel like they belong to the same world. Cohesive. Intentional. Not one universe on the home screen and a weird, blurry limbo on the edges.

Just Alphabetize It!”
If only it were that simple!!! Part of my plan for this shiny new phone was to finally install all the apps I’d been wanting but putting off. A big phone, big storage, perfect. But time isn’t something I have in abundance. I run a business. I care for my animals. I deal with complex family stuff. So, naturally, I assumed I could do what Android and desktop systems let you do: Sort apps alphabetically. Simple. Logical. That would let my brain find anything quickly and calmly. Except… on iPhone, you can’t. If I want alphabetical order, I have to drag every icon manually into place. No button. No automatic sort. No checkbox. Just hours of tedious, hand-sorting busywork.
As Sweet Brown said so perfectly: “Ain’t nobody got time for dat.”

“But You Don’t Like Your Android Either…”
Jim asked a fair question: “You don’t like the Android you’re using now, so what’s the difference?” And I gave him the most honest, logical answer I could: If I get mad enough at a phone to want to throw it across the room, I’d rather it be a $35 Walmart Android I can easily replace than a $1500 iPhone I’m still making payments on. If I’m going to hate a phone, it may as well be a cheap one.

So I decided to return the iPhone and use that money to buy a proper camera instead, something I know will bring me joy, help my work, and not fight my brain every time I touch it.

This Is About More Than a Phone
Here’s where this connects to why this blog exists at all.

My friends genuinely think they can “fix” the phone for me. Bless them — they are trying. Everyone around me is saying some version of: You’re overreacting. Just ignore those screens. You don’t have to swipe over there. You can live with it. It’s a really nice phone; why return it?
And when I say, “I can’t just ignore it,” they translate it as: “You won’t ignore it. You’re being stubborn.”

That is the part that breaks my heart and makes me furious at the same time. Because this is not about a phone. It’s about a lifetime of being told I’m “too sensitive”, being told to “just ignore it like everyone else”, having my very real sensory and organizational needs brushed off, feeling something is wrong and being met with eye rolls or jokes, being labeled “dramatic” when I’m actually drowning!

This is what it’s like being (very likely) neurodivergent without a formal diagnosis, surrounded mostly by neurotypical people who do not, or will not, see the difference.
They think I’m choosing to be upset. I’m not!
My brain does not process this the way theirs does. To them, those two screens are a quirk. To me, they’re a constant source of irritation and mental friction.
That’s Chihuahua vs. Pit Bull in action.

The Chihuahua Philosophy in Practice
This whole Apple disaster is a perfect example of why I created this space. Not because of the tech itself, but because of the gap between what I experience internally and how it looks to everyone else on the outside. From the outside, it looks like “Tonya’s freaking out over a nothing again.” Yet from the inside, it feels like I am stuck inside a system I cannot control, and everyone is telling me my distress is invalid or optional.

The Chihuahua Philosophy is my attempt to build a bridge between those two realities.
To say - No, I’m not broken. No, I’m not overreacting. No, I’m not being childish. Yes, I am different. Yes my brain is wired differently. Yes, my thresholds are different. Yes, my needs are different.
But just like a Chihuahua and a Pit Bull are both dogs, but you do not train, house, or handle them the same way.

Why This Had to Be the First Post
I didn’t want my first blog entry to be a “hello, welcome” fluff piece. I wanted it to show you why this project matters to me, and maybe, to you. The Apple case is small in the grand scheme of life. It’s a phone. It’s pixels. It’s blur and boxes and layouts.
But the way people responded to my distress over it? That’s not small. That’s the pattern. That’s what I’m exhausted from. That’s what I’m here to unpack.

This blog is for the people who feel seen reading this and the people who love someone like me, but don’t yet understand what’s going on inside their head.
If you’re neurodivergent, maybe you’ve had your own “Apple Disaster” moment, something small that everyone else laughed off while your insides were twisting.
If you’re neurotypical, maybe this post gives you a tiny window into why “just ignore it” is not the helpful advice you think it is.

Where We Go From Here
From here, I want to use stories like this, the everyday “little things” that aren’t little at all, to explore what it’s like to live in a Chihuahua brain in a Pit Bull world, to know how it feels to constantly be dismissed as “too sensitive”, how we can communicate better across that neuro-gap, and how people like me can stop internalizing the idea that we are the problem

The Apple Disaster isn’t the biggest crisis of my life. But it was the perfect, ridiculous, honest place to start. Because the truth is simple. I don’t want a world where I have to numb myself to survive it. I want a world where the way my brain works is allowed to exist without being mocked, minimized, or “fixed.”

If that resonates with you, from either side of the Chihuahua/Pit Bull fence, then you’re exactly who I built this place for.

Welcome to The Chihuahua Philosophy.
You’re not too much here.
You’re just… you.
And that’s enough.

Share us

Get in touch