A spicy trauma goblin turned cozy oracle, armed with a laser and too many feelings.
Hi. I'm Laura. I have BPD, ADHD, a laser cutter, and a raccoon mascot with opinions. I started Neurospice Design Shop because my brain wouldn't shut up and I needed something to do with all the noise.
I didn't have a business plan. I had a Cricut I'd been neglecting, a sticker addiction, and the growing realization that if I didn't start making things with my hands, my brain was going to eat itself. So I bought a laser. Then another laser. Then a sublimation printer. Then I realized I'd accidentally started a business.
What I make: weird little things from weird little feelings. Slate coasters with mythological creatures and Elder Futhark runes that actually say something (I'm not telling you what). Stickers that validate the parts of you the world keeps trying to fix. Metal bookmarks for the readers who devour books like oxygen. Custom memorial pieces for people who lost someone and need a physical place to put that love.
Everything I make passes one test: would this have helped me? Would this help someone like me? Does this say something real? If the answer is no, I don't make it. There are enough empty things in the world.
Not everyone needs another "Live, Laugh, Love" sign. Some of us need a gremlin with a sticker that says "This hurts and I'm still here."
Neurospice exists for the neurospicy, the grieving, the feral, the exhausted, and the beautifully weird. For people whose brains speak in symbols and spirals, where words stumble or disappear. These creations become stand-ins for connection.
I make weird little things from weird little feelings so no one has to feel invisible.
No sugarcoating. No forced positivity. Just messy, intentional honesty.
You are not the only one. Someone sees you, and made this for you.
We turn grief, rage, nostalgia, and joy into something you can hold.
Whether you're neurospicy, grieving, feral, or exhausted: this is your home.
I run this shop from my craft room with a partner who spray-paints things for me, a cat who unplugs my equipment, and the kind of stubbornness that can only come from surviving things that should have flattened you.
I'm not here to build an empire. I'm here to build a refuge.
One weird little thing at a time.