@Emily Satel introduced me to this rule that's made my life so much easier... If a task takes less than one song length to complete: DO IT NOW. No "I'll do it later." No adding to the list. No overthinking. Result: • Inbox stays manageable • Tasks don't pile up • Mental load decreases ADHD brains need friction-free systems. What micro-habit changed everything for you?

Realising that most of my stress comes from holding too many ideas at once — not from lack of time.

Getting an ADHD diagnosis can feel like someone finally turning the lights on. Suddenly, your life makes sense. The missed deadlines. The overwhelm. The exhaustion from trying to “keep up.” The constant feeling that everyone else got a rulebook you never received. For many women and late diagnosed men , that diagnosis brings deep relief. It whispers: You weren’t broken. You weren’t lazy. You weren’t failing on purpose. Your life hasn’t been a series of personal shortcomings — it’s been a nervous system doing its best without the right support. And then… there’s the other side. The grief. Grief for the younger you who struggled silently. For the opportunities that might have unfolded differently. For the confidence you might have had sooner. For the paths you didn’t take because you believed the story that you were “too much” or “not enough.” This grief can be unexpected and heavy. You can feel grateful and devastated at the same time — both things can be true. Coming to terms with this isn’t about rushing to “look on the bright side.” It’s about allowing space for mourning and meaning. Naming the loss without judging it. Offering compassion to the versions of you who did the best they could with what they had. Rewriting the narrative — not to erase the past, but to understand it. Letting the diagnosis be a beginning, not just an explanation. An ADHD diagnosis doesn’t change what happened — but it does change what happens next. You get to stop fighting yourself. You get to build a life that works with your brain, not against it. You get to choose gentler expectations, clearer boundaries, and support that actually fits. And slowly, the grief softens — not because it wasn’t valid, but because it’s met with understanding, self-trust, and permission to move forward in a new way. If this resonates, you’re not alone. This is a very real part of the ADHD journey — especially for those diagnosed later in life. Both the relief and the grief deserve to be held.

Anyone else feel like some days they need someone to just follow them around body doubling all day to get things done? No? Just me? 🤔