And how ADHD complicates everything

About a month ago, something strange happened. My anxiety disappeared.

Not completely, not forever, but for the first time in my life, the constant background buzz of hypervigilance just stopped. It was sudden, and honestly, kind of miraculous. I could sleep. I could breathe. I could relax without my brain telling me the world was ending.

But almost immediately, something else disappeared with it: my motivation.

And not just the “I’ll-do-it-later” kind. I mean the kind where everything, even simple stuff, feels hard to start. Tasks that used to run on autopilot now sit undone for hours, days, or weeks. The cleaning, the emails, the laundry, the creative projects I care about, all of it just stalled (now sure I was never good at cleaning and laundry, but it eventually got done).

That’s when I started recognising a painful pattern I hadn’t wanted to look at before. Most of my “motivation” was never really motivation at all.

It was urgency, guilt, shame, and fear.
And for someone with ADHD, that actually makes a lot of sense.

ADHD messes with the brain’s ability to self start. It’s not about laziness. It’s about executive dysfunction. Motivation doesn’t just show up because you want it to. Often, it only kicks in when there’s a crisis, a deadline, or an emotional explosion. This is why, for so long, I unknowingly relied on my anxiety to make me move.

That anxious voice, the one that said “you’re falling behind,” “you’re going to disappoint everyone,” or “if you don’t do this now, everything will fall apart,” was exhausting. But it got things done. It was fuel in its own chaotic way.

And now that I don’t have constant anxiety…

There’s a vacuum, a weird, echoey space where all the pressure used to be. I’m not spiralling. I’m not in a depressive fog. I just don’t have that same push anymore. And it’s not because I don’t care. I care deeply. I’m just learning that caring and doing are two different things, and ADHD makes the gap between them feel enormous.

So here I am. Calmer than I’ve ever been. Also stuck.

Trying to figure out how to function without using fear as a productivity tool.
Trying to build a new system where I don’t have to be panicked or punished to get things done.
Trying to learn what it means to be self directed when my brain doesn’t naturally work that way.

It’s frustrating. It’s confusing. But I also think it’s a sign of growth.

This is the part no one talks about. It is the quiet after the storm when you’re no longer surviving but haven’t yet figured out how to live. It is the part where you realise your old coping mechanisms were painful but effective, and now you need new ones.

So right now, I’m giving myself some grace.
If all I do today is one small thing, that’s okay.
If I need to rest without guilt, that’s okay.
If I don’t feel motivated but still find small ways to show up for myself, that’s more than okay.

I’m not broken. I’m just in a rebuild. And this time, I want the foundation to be care, not panic.

Kate xx