Everything about cleaning is wrong
The mess is distressing. The cleaning is distressing. Nobody writes 'and here's what to do when both are the problem.'
Dropping the mask.
I found out I was AuDHD at 47. This is what I wish someone had written for me.
The mess is distressing. The cleaning is distressing. Nobody writes 'and here's what to do when both are the problem.'
For years I lay in bed waiting for a grey feeling to pass. It wasn't depression. It was my brain at the bottom of its stimulation range.
Everybody else gets to have a bad day. When I finally have one, it gets logged as evidence.
When your need for routine and your need for novelty arm-wrestle and you lose either way.
When perimenopause shreds the coping mechanisms you spent 30 years building.
Actual systems that work for a brain like ours. Not awareness. Not theory.
When you are managing yourself AND another adult AND nobody sees it.
Being a mom with a brain that was never designed for constant sensory input.
From "what is wrong with me" to "nothing was ever wrong with me" — and the rage in between.