192: Make Room for Reality in Your ADHD Organizing

Leave Room for Reality in Your Organizing Systems

Someone recently emailed asking me to explain the monkey brain versus fish brain framework again, so let’s clear it up before diving in. I use monkey brain interchangeably with type A, neurotypical, or left-brained: planned, orderly, logical, systematic. Fish brain I use interchangeably with type B, neurodivergent, or right-brained: creative, emotional, sporadic, sometimes absent-minded. You don’t need a formal diagnosis to find these ideas useful, and I’ll say plainly, I’m not a scientist or a therapist of any kind. I’m a mom of four who felt like a failure at home management, especially once my kids went back to school and I finally had time but still couldn’t get it together. That sent me down a research rabbit hole that turned into an organizing certification and a career I’ve now been in since 2018.

Here’s the interesting industry secret: the people who become professional organizers are almost always naturally organized monkey brains, out there trying to help fish brains using monkey-style advice. That’s the whole premise behind my “well-intentioned monkeys” line. They’re handing you a clear, step-by-step, logical path up a tree, when you’re a fish swimming in a fluid, sporadic, creative waterway that doesn’t have much use for tree-climbing instructions.

Standard organizing advice says set up a system correctly once, then maintain it, and if life happens, just work hard to get back on track and stay there. That works fine for monkey brains. It is not realistic for those of us who aren’t wired to be consistent, linear, or routine-based. Routine is basically kryptonite for a fish brain, and it doesn’t allow for the fact that life “happening” isn’t an occasional blip, it’s a daily occurrence.

I see this constantly in organizer forums where colleagues get stuck on a client and ask each other for help. Almost every time, the client is resisting a system because there’s no room for their actual reality built into it. Someone’s trying to install a monkey system in a fish’s house, and it doesn’t hold. So if you’re looking at another organizer’s setup, a beautiful video, or a pristine Instagram closet, take two steps back and ask: is there room for my reality in this? A little chaos isn’t a moral failing. I just want it smoothed out enough that it doesn’t paralyze you, not eliminated entirely in favor of perfectly matched clear bins in rainbow order.

A real example: my own desk

I let my desk fall apart recently and finally gave myself a thirty-minute limit to deal with it. I dumped everything except the computer onto the floor, cleaned the surface, then sorted into broad categories: podcast stuff, membership stuff, client stuff, personal stuff. Office supplies went back in the drawer. But the timer was running out, so I put two active piles back on the desk, immediate client materials since I had an in-home job the next day, and podcast materials, then swept everything else into a tray behind my desk. That tray’s entire job is to hold reality. Life interrupts work sessions constantly, a dog needs something, a kid needs something, a call comes in, or you simply run out of time before you have to go pick someone up. Since life stops at imperfect, imprecise moments, you need somewhere to stash the rest until you get another window to deal with it. Clutter is often just a delayed decision, and sometimes you genuinely don’t have time to make that decision in the moment. That’s not a failure. That’s reality, given a home.

A real example: my closet

My husband is a total monkey brain, and his side of our shared closet is always immaculate. I originally set my own side up the same way. But I’m someone who tries on outfits, doesn’t love them, and doesn’t always have time to hang them back up nicely, which used to mean a pile on the floor that made the whole closet look like a wreck. When I designed my closet from scratch, I built in two big empty drawers right next to the hamper specifically for this. Anything I don’t have time to deal with gets scooped into the dirty clothes or into those drawers instead of onto the floor. Because the drawers have a finite size, once I can’t shut them anymore, I’m forced to deal with the contents, sometimes properly, sometimes by just sliding everything into the hamper and letting it cycle through the wash. Neither is a sin. It’s just room for reality built into the system.

A real example: the living room after bedtime

If you’re exhausted after getting the kids to bed and just want to sit down with your husband and watch TV, but you’re staring at piles of kid stuff everywhere, get yourself a big basket you can sweep everything into in three seconds. That’s not abandoning proper cleanup forever, there are still times to sit down and sort through things thoroughly. It’s acknowledging that at the end of an exhausting day, after showers, dinner, and homework with four active kids, asking for a coordinated five-minute family tidy just isn’t realistic some nights. Make room for reality there too.

Your practical, actionable step

Look at one system in your home that keeps failing you, and ask honestly whether it leaves any room for your actual reality, the interruptions, the exhaustion, the moments you simply run out of time. Build in a designated, unglamorous spot, a tray, a drawer, a basket, where the unfinished stuff can land until you have time to come back to it.

Until next time, continue to choose joy.