This one has a little less Disney sparkle in it. This one is a little closer to home. And while we all know that “there’s no place like home”, the whirlwind of having ADHD as an adult is no musical.
There’s a specific kind of heaviness that comes with ADHD, especially undiagnosed ADHD — it’s not just the cluttered rooms or missed deadlines, but the emotional weight that builds every time we fall short of what we (or others) expect from us.
It’s the shame spiral. It starts small: You forget the load of laundry in the washing machine. You procrastinate on something important. You promise yourself you’ll “just do it later.” But later doesn’t come. And suddenly, it’s not just “I didn’t do the thing.” It becomes:
“Why am I like this?”
“Everyone else can do it.”
“I’m just lazy.”
Let me say something that took me way too long to believe (and if I’m being completely honest, I’m not sure I actually believe it fully yet):
ADHD isn’t laziness. It’s not a character flaw. It’s not a moral failing.
But because ADHD impacts executive function — our brain’s ability to plan, prioritize, start tasks, and regulate emotions — we often look like we’re just not trying hard enough. And if you hear that message enough times from school, from work, from family (or from your own brain) you start to believe it.
Even when you’re trying.
Even when you care.
Even when you’re exhausted from the mental load that it takes just to survive the day.
Here’s how the guilt shows up for me:
- I set reminders and timers and still miss the thing
- I sit down to answer emails and end up doom scrolling for an hour (sometimes a lot more)
- I forget a close friend’s birthday — again
- I clean one room of the house obsessively while the rest looks like chaos
And when I finally crash, I’m left with that gnawing, familiar ache, “You had the time. Why didn’t you just do it?”
Because ADHD is invisible. Because our struggle doesn’t always look like a struggle. Because when productivity is tied to self-worth, every ‘failure’ feels like proof that I’m broken. That I can’t be ‘fixed’.
An then comes the shame spiral. Shame feeds avoidance. Avoidance feeds more shame.
It’s a loop:
- I procrastinate.
- I feel guilty.
- I avoid it because it makes me anxious.
- Now it’s overdue, and the guilt is worse.
- I freeze.
- I call myself names.
- I give up…
Aaaaand the cycle begins again. Breaking out of it feels impossible when you’re in it.
I don’t have all the answers, but here are a few things that have helped me loosen shame’s grip:
- Naming it. I found this girl on Instagram, @faye_plunkett is her username if you’re interested, and she helped by simply saying to ‘name your brain’. In doing so, you can tell your brain to just stop. It sounds daft and it might not work for everyone, but in saying “not today Karen”, I’ve found I feel more in control. Look it up, trust me.
- Finding community. Talking to others with ADHD reminded me I’m not alone, or broken. And the Neurodivergent community is a big one
- Low-stakes starts. Setting a 5 minute timer to do something and challenging myself to see how much I could get done in those 5 minutes. I’ve slowly increased the length of the timer. I’m now on 20 minute timers
- Self-compassion. (The hardest one and the one that doesn’t always work) I give myself a break. I remind myself that I am not Wonder Woman, and that sometimes, it’s Karen’s fault
If you’ve ever sat in a silent room, overwhelmed by dishes, deadlines, or a blank screen, feeling like the world is moving without you—I see you. You are not lazy. You are not weak. You are trying in ways most people will never understand.
And that deserves compassion, not shame. Let’s stop calling ourselves lazy. Let’s call it what it is: a brain that works differently, in a world that doesn’t make space for that.
Xx
NikkiEverAfter1923 
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