In his final blog for ADHD Awareness Month, journalist and poet Max Wallis shares what he wants people to know about day-to-day life with ADHD, why he still tries even when it’s challenging, and why lived experience in research is key to improving support.
Max Wallis
One of the most overwhelming traits of my ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) is a volatile and fragile sense of confidence and self-worth.
I oscillate between thinking I am a genius who can do anything and thinking I will never get anything done in my life.
This yo-yo rollercoaster is rooted in the way ADHD affects executive functioning, emotional regulation, and, through years of self-doubt and outside denial of our experiences, an altered self-perception.
Studies could use this aspect of the lived experience to inform the way legislation protects those with disabilities like mine and help employers understand what ADHD is really like.
But what’s day-to-day life like for me? Chaos, even now. But at least it’s productive.
What follows hyperfocus is an inevitable crash and a focus shift to a new activity. I am left with half-baked ideas to which I cannot give any more mental resources.
Hyperfocus or task paralysis
I am either 1000% committed to something or unable to start it.
Just this morning, for example, I came up with an idea for a word game app for mobile phones. Due to hyperfocus – a sudden and powerful fixation on something – I then spent the next five hours developing a basic code for a proof of concept for the app.
I spent money on an Apple Developer account. I reserved the name on the App Store. Yesterday, this idea did not exist. And, unfortunately, tomorrow I may move on.
Endless projects are one of the hallmarks of my ADHD existence. Books are drafted, scripts are sketched, and domain names are purchased.
I used to think it was about wanting to make fast money, the dream of overnight success, but in fact, it’s because once an idea comes to me, I have to follow it through.
And then, because I love learning new skills, I often work to the bone to figure out how to do it. Rather than delegating a task, it consumes me.
What follows hyperfocus is an inevitable crash and a focus shift to a new activity. I am left with half-baked ideas to which I cannot give any more mental resources.
I am often at risk of burning out and flailing. The only things that don’t lose their spark are poetry and writing.
In the workplace, this can mean people with ADHD are often taking on more work than they can handle and constantly people-pleasing – but at great emotional and mental weight to their wellbeing.
Other everyday nuisances, like getting myself a cup of tea, remembering to eat, or going to the toilet, are dramatically hindered by task paralysis and indecision. Even medicated, I struggle.
What complicates life is my compounding diagnosis of complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (c-PTSD) from years of trauma.
The hope is that once I have processed those memories through what I am already finding life-changing EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing) therapy, my meds will be more effective. We can only hope. But there are glimmers of light in life’s shadows.
When a person with normal executive functions – the parts of the brain which regulate thoughts and actions - feels angry or frustrated, they can evaluate the situation rationally. They can have perspective.
All or nothing
Because my brain’s executive functions are, quite frankly, completely disordered, I also struggle with my emotions.
When a person with normal executive functions – the parts of the brain which regulate thoughts and actions – feels angry or frustrated, they can evaluate the situation rationally. They can have perspective.
They might think about the consequences of acting out or in haste without thinking things through and then, subsequently, choose actions that are equitable to the reality of the situation.
In my case, that’s thrown out of the window entirely and further disrupted by my c-PTSD, which also causes system-wide dysregulation. My two different disorders work in tandem to cause havoc on an hourly basis.
Functionally speaking, it means that when things are going well – say, a period of hyperfocus, for example – I feel like an athlete. I can do anything. Nothing will rock my boat.
But when the inevitable happens, and some tiny infraction occurs, or I realise I might have said something unprofessional in an email, I feel like my world has ended.
Living in a way that mirrors “normal” is a battleground. And it is exhausting.
Rejection Sensitivity Disorder
When that happens, I slump. What’s the point? And then I often think everyone who said terrible things about me in my life was telling the truth. I am a waste of space. I am hopeless. I am lazy. Everything is wrong, and nothing will ever be okay ever again.
This unproportionate response to something small is something we call Rejection Sensitivity Disorder (RSD), which is also affected by c-PTSD.
RSD means that I perceive slights against me much stronger than others do. Just yesterday, I got advice from someone, which I perceived as being told off, which then triggered my c-PTSD and spiralled into me thinking I was worthless and incapable of anything.
Hours passed with me in this state, even though, rationally, I understood nothing had gone wrong and that I was achieving a lot despite my condition.
All of these things combine. So when I hear about ADHD people being called lazy or that they should try harder, I want everyone to understand that my ADHD brain is a constant kaleidoscope of ideas and thoughts – some positive, a lot negative – refracted through a prism of self-doubt, systemic dismissal, and confusion on how a “normal” person should think, and why I am incapable of doing the same.
Living in a way that mirrors “normal” is a battleground. And it is exhausting.
I wrote a poem about it this morning because designing an app, writing an article, and living weren’t enough for me to contend with today.
Poem to Myself Who Thought He Was Lazy
When you asked me
why I don’t try harder
I wanted to say I do try,
every day.
That’s the thing.
I try to focus
I try to remember things
I am unwell, but sometimes
I can write for hours
or create new stories
but then I realise
I’ve forgotten to wash
forgotten to eat
forgotten to do
the laundry
my cat meows
and I haven’t fed her
because I got distracted
by taking down the half-drank
cup of tea
I left by the bathroom
when I realised I needed a wee
and hadn’t been,
because I’d done
another thing
I’d forgotten to do earlier.
And then, like that
it is evening
and the day has crept away from me
and there’s something I woke up
thinking I should do
but haven’t done
and something I have done
I didn’t need to.
And money has gone
without me realising.
And I am unmoored.
And lonely, but that’s okay,
because I now know
what it is to sit with yourself
to sit and say
It’s okay, you tried.
Max Wallis is an award-winning poet, journalist, and writer based in Lancashire. He can be found on Instagram at @maxwallis.
Read his first two blogs for ADHD Awareness Month 2024 here: