Wherever you look, websites are all ablaze with “Happy New Year” wishes, usually adorned with celebratory images and text that reflect on the previous year, and hopes, goals, and dreams for the incoming year.
It can get a bit meaningless, right?
And yet, here I am, doing the same thing!
But not quite.
The first thing I want to do is to thank you. Those of you reading this will be those who have stood with me, without judgment, whilst I navigated ADHD burnout. It’s been tough, I’m not going to dress it up or make it something it isn’t; it’s been challenging, and it’s also been sobering. I’ve learned, with both professional support and the support of family and friends, to be with what is. To look reality square in the eyes, without trying to fix it or change it, but to understand it. And to understand it not through effort, but through allowing it to reveal itself to me.
I wonder if you can understand how challenging that is for an ADHDer? Trust me, it’s huge!
My ADHD shows up in many and varied ways. I want to fix everything for everyone. If someone is in pain or upset, I want to make them better. If someone is going through a turbulent time, I want to smooth everything out for them.
Even more so for myself. And I have to do it now. I can’t wait, not a single second, before I’ve fired that email, written that letter, made significant plans, or drawn up a huge solicitor's bill.
I remember years ago when an old computer died. I tried a few times to restart it, but it wasn’t having any of it. I drove off, bought a new one, set it up, and carried on with what I was doing. A friend said:
“Didn’t you research what you needed? Compare prices or spec?”
And the honest answer was “no.” I did none of those things. I needed a working computer, so I went out and got one. The first one I spotted!
So to sit with uncomfortable “stuff,” let it show its true face to me, and be with it, isn’t something that comes naturally at all.
And then there’s the “others.”
I wonder what people must be thinking about me. I expect them to be judging, and this fuels anxiety and fear that is off the scale. I worry about what I think others are thinking. The worry isn’t based in reality; it’s not evidence-based; it’s my mind second-guessing. I pick up on micro-signals that no one else can see, sense the atmosphere of rooms that no one else picks up on, and my brain interprets these signals as negative, and then I agonise over what I think they’re thinking.
The net result of this is that I suffer. No one else (except my ever-patient partner!) Not content with suffering from ADHD burnout, I subject myself to psychological agony as well.
And none of this is unusual for someone with ADHD.
From a neuroscience perspective, ADHD is not a deficit of intelligence or insight, but a difference in how the brain regulates attention, emotion, and motivation. Key networks involved in executive function, including the prefrontal cortex and its connections with the limbic system, do not consistently regulate impulses, timing, and emotional responses in the same way as non-ADHD brains. Dopamine and noradrenaline, neurotransmitters involved in motivation, salience, and reward, are often less efficiently regulated. This means the ADHD brain is drawn powerfully towards urgency and immediacy. Acting now brings relief. Waiting, tolerating uncertainty, or sitting with discomfort leaves the nervous system overstimulated and dysregulated. That “I must fix this immediately” impulse comes not from a personality flaw. It is the brain seeking equilibrium as fast as possible.
Layered on top of this is a highly sensitive threat and social monitoring system. Many ADHDers have an overactive amygdala response to perceived rejection, ambiguity, or social uncertainty, often described as rejection sensitivity. The brain becomes primed to scan for danger in facial expressions, tone, pauses, or imagined judgments. Once activated, the default mode network, the brain’s inner narrative generator, can spiral into rumination and mind-reading, filling gaps with threat-based stories rather than evidence. The body experiences this as real danger, not a thought. Cortisol rises, anxiety increases, and suffering follows, even when no external threat exists. Understanding this neurologically can be deeply compassionate.
So from a neuroscientific perspective, what I experience is not weakness or overthinking. It’s my nervous system doing its best to protect me, using strategies that once made sense, but which now ask for gentler, more mindful ways of being with what is.
I am learning to live mindfully, and the RAIN practice is helping me do that:
R: Recognise
A: Accept and Allow
I: Investigate
N: Nurture
Through this practice, I am getting to know my inner territory, my inner garden. I can see what’s blooming beautifully, and I can see what’s overgrown, smothered in bindweed, or growing in poor soil. I can view all this without judgment; in fact, I can view it with a smile and then take care of it.
And even better? This is a practice. I am allowed to fall over, mess up, and get it wrong, and I frequently do. But each time I get back up, I learn, I soften the inner critic's voice, and that voice slowly transforms into my inner coach.
This is what I learned over the past year, and I carry it into 2026 with a more positive step. It’s what has informed my ADHD Coaching business, and I look forward to seeing others transform themselves with my support.
