Before I knew I was autistic and had ADHD, I lived in a constant state of frustration. I couldn’t understand why I seemed to swing between being completely in control—on top of everything, organised, productive—and then suddenly hitting a wall, unable to string together a coherent thought or get out of bed for days at a time.
For a long time, the finger was pointed at cyclothymia, a form of bipolar disorder involving rapid mood cycles. But medication didn’t help—because, as it turns out, I wasn’t experiencing a mood disorder. I was living with two opposing neurological forces—autism and ADHD—that were in constant conflict, dragging me into a whirlpool that inevitably ended in burnout.
This experience reminds me a lot of what I described in The Painful Tide of Autistic Burnout – When Part of You Is Washed Away, where I explained how burnout feels like a hard reset that wipes away all recent progress.
⚔️ When Your Brain Is at War With Itself
Once I understood how my brain actually functions, the pattern became painfully clear. Autism and ADHD aren’t just two neurodivergent traits that sit quietly side by side. In my experience, they’re like heavyweight champions battling it out for control of my daily functioning.
- When I try to rest to recover from burnout? ADHD gets bored and demands stimulation.
- When I try to build a structured routine to stay on track? ADHD throws a tantrum and refuses to comply.
- When I give in to the ADHD urge and start an exciting new project? Autism panics about the uncertainty and becomes laser-focused on getting every single detail perfect.
- When ADHD impulsively agrees to social plans? Autism spends every waking moment catastrophising and dreading the event.
And the result of this constant inner warfare? Burnout. Every time.
💥 The Burnout Spiral
Despite my best intentions, I often find myself overcommitted, overwhelmed, and spiralling into a mess of exhaustion, anxiety, and confusion. It’s taken years to come to terms with the fact that just because I really want to do something doesn’t mean I should. ADHD makes everything feel urgent and exciting. Autism makes everything feel high-stakes and potentially catastrophic. My own brain lures me into chaos and emotional turmoil for a fleeting hit of dopamine.
The hardest part is that I don’t even always realise I’m having an emotional response, thanks to the joys of learning how to manage emotions when you have a processing delay. When the emotions finally catch up, I’m often already deep in meltdown territory.
🧩 Creating Systems That Actually Work
Managing this—without ADHD medication—has meant rewriting the rules I live by:
- I’ve started telling friends that I’ll always say “no” to plans at first. Not because I don’t want to go, but because I need 24–48 hours to figure out whether I can go without falling apart.
- I try to test-run new projects in mini form. If it goes well, I can expand. If not, I haven’t buried myself in overwhelm.
- I never make snap decisions. I force myself to pause, reflect, and check in with both sides of my brain before committing.
It might sound rigid or overcautious—but the payoff is less burnout, fewer meltdowns, and more stability.
And sometimes, it’s the smallest things—like a blender being on for too long—that send me over the edge when I’m already running on fumes. That’s the reality of living with sensory sensitivities and a brain in conflict.
✨ Seeing the Strength Behind the Struggle
It’s wild to imagine what it must feel like to live in a brain that isn’t constantly trying to sabotage itself. But this constant tug-of-war has given me something I didn’t expect: insight. Passion. A relentless drive to understand myself—and to help my neurodivergent children do the same.
I’m still learning. I’m still making mistakes. But I’m better at spotting the warning signs. I’m better at forgiving myself for needing time. And I’m starting to believe that maybe, one day, I’ll see this beautiful chaos of a brain as more of a gift than a burden.
Until then? One foot in front of the other.
Leave a comment