106: 2 Lies our ADHD Brain Tells Us About Organizing & 1 Truth That Will Help

Two Lies We Tell Ourselves, and the Truth of Chunking Forward

I disappeared for about two and a half weeks recently, in a bit of a funk, and I never want to come on here pretending everything’s figured out when it isn’t. In that stretch, I noticed myself leaning on two lies that were keeping me stuck, and one truth that actually helped me move forward.

Lie one: “Once I find my rhythm, everything will fall into place”

I spent this entire fall waiting to settle into a routine, telling myself that once things calmed down, once I got past this event or that date, I’d finally have the bandwidth to launch everything I wanted to do. But between a kid launching into independent life, a senior year full of high-stakes dates, and things going on with my mom and grandmother, that steady rhythm never arrived. And honestly, I know better, my brain was never going to settle into a true routine anyway, it craves novelty too much to stay there even if it did. Waiting for the “right time” to start is a lie. There isn’t a right time coming. The only path forward is learning to push ahead without a rhythm, without a clear stretch of calm before the next thing.

Lie two: “I’ll find the one thing that cracks the code and fixes everything”

This is the belief that the right coach, the right technique, the right medication, the right advice will suddenly resolve everything at once. None of that is bad to pursue, working with a doctor or a coach or trying new techniques is genuinely worthwhile. But it’s not a magic fix, and treating it like one just becomes another form of waiting. I’ve been dealing with aging and hormonal changes lately, expecting one small tweak to make my body respond the way it used to, and slowly realizing my body is simply different now and needs a new perspective, not a quick fix. I think I’ve been leaning on that same expectation with my brain too. It’s not something to crack the code on and be done, it’s something to keep learning about so I can live well alongside it.

The truth: chunk your way forward

When I visited my mom to help with an unsafe, disorganized storage area, I knew from the start I couldn’t tear the whole thing apart and put it back together perfectly in the time I had. So I asked myself what mattered most, her safety while digging through it, and chunked my way toward just that. I set a repeating 15-minute timer, cleared just enough space to install two new shelves, and moved what I could into clear containers instead of digging through cardboard boxes. Not dramatic, not perfect, just better, and better was exactly the chunk that situation needed.

The same thing happened with my kitchen after traveling. My independent teens had handled their own meals, practices, and dog care while I was gone, which is genuinely great, but also meant the kitchen looked like it had exploded by the time I got home. I was too exhausted to deal with it that first night, and that’s okay, I don’t hold myself to a spotless kitchen standard on a normal day either. The next morning, I broke “clean the kitchen” down into small, individual chunks: clear the sink, unload the dishwasher, reload and start it, clean the counter to the left of the stove, then the counter to the right. I took breaks between chunks, sometimes got pulled away entirely for a pickup or another meal, and had to start again the next day. That’s still forward progress, even when it gets messy again in between.

Your practical, actionable step

Next time you’re facing an overwhelming space or task, resist waiting for the right rhythm or the perfect fix. Instead, set a repeating 15-minute timer and break the task into the smallest useful chunk you can identify, clearing just enough for safety, function, or a single small win, then reassess before starting the next chunk.

Until next time, continue to choose joy.