I’m days away from turning 40.

I can’t quite believe that. It feels ever so grown up and that is not how I feel inside. I look around at other people who seem to be nailing adulthood and sometimes I still feel like a little girl who hasn’t quite mastered how to be a grown-up. I have a sneaky suspicion I’m not alone in this feeling and other ADHD’ers may relate?

It’s funny because there are parts of me that do feel ‘old’ - everything feels a bit creakier and things hit me much more than they once did (alcohol, late nights etc..) but my inner child is still present and I don’t think I’d want to change that as we have some interesting exchanges and she teaches me a lot.

The different parts of myself

I think we all have different parts of ourselves don’t we?

There’s the older, wiser part who’s connected to something greater and fully tapped into my intuition.

Then the little girl part that can feel a bit scared and unsure, but also excited and playful and full of hope and optimism.

As we get older perhaps we get closer to certain parts of ourselves and further away from other parts? I know my playful inner child has been MIA for quite sizeable chunks of my thirties. I’m trying to invite her back a little right now!

As I sit on the cusp of my forties, looking back on this last decade, I’m feeling a lot of things and perhaps the first thing to say is that I feel excited to intentionally choose which parts of myself I’d like to give more energy to as I go into my forties.

But before looking ahead, let’s look back.

At 30, I’d been married almost a year and we were about to start trying to conceive. Little did I know that would take a few years. Thanks to IVF we were lucky enough to have two children, not without a lot of ups and downs.

I felt I’d lived the first few years of my thirties ‘in limbo’ which, for me, was one of the most frustrating parts of struggling to conceive. As someone who has an aversion to uncertainty and lack of control it tested me to my limits. I dealt with it by throwing myself into career endeavours which ultimately led to major overwhelm which I’ve spoken about before.

The COVID pandemic punctuated a lot of my early motherhood experience and in some ways these years have felt like a bit of a blur.

Like so many new mums I struggled to maintain the coping strategies that have kept me on the straight and narrow. I think this is especially the case for neurodivergent mothers. Everything I thought I knew about how to take care for myself no longer seemed to fit.

It was like I unravelled and was forced to look at myself through a new lens and learn more about myself than I ever thought possible.

This time ten years ago I thought I had a pretty good measure of myself - I knew my struggles and blocks and what I thought I needed to do to ‘live my best life’ but the trouble was that all this was based on the belief that this was possible if I just worked hard enough.

Turns out it doesn’t work that way. Not for me at least.

And actually, not forcing and learning to go with the flow a little more is one of many lessons I’ve learned in my thirties - still a work in progress!

“You care less in your thirties” - Really?!

I’d heard that when you turn 30 you start to care a little less. This was music to my ears. I’ve always been so concerned with what people think of me. I’m a bit of a millennial cliché in that I have all the things - perfectionism, people pleasing, good girl conditioning.

You may not be shocked to hear that when I entered my thirties I didn’t suddenly start caring less, sadly. There has been a shift though, albeit immensely gradual.

These shifts have happened because I now understand myself far better than I did a decade ago. Knowing and understanding how ADHD has shaped the way I show up in the world has led to some major breakthroughs and it feels quite exciting to be armed with so much of this intel as I enter my forties.

I not only understand myself a lot more, I’m also so much more compassionate towards myself. In my twenties and thirties there have been times that I’ve been so mean to myself and felt pathetic, hopeless and truly believed I will never amount to anything. That fear rears its ugly head sometimes, even now.

Celebrating success

One of the most drastic mindset shifts to happen in my thirties is my relationship with success.

I used to see success as having a lot of money and career stature. It’s what I grew up seeing my parents accumulate and I assumed I would be the same, if I worked hard enough. When things didn’t seem to click or come easily to me, I saw this as evidence of failure.

I’m so pleased to say that I see things differently now. My measure of success nowadays isn’t something that can be measured by money in the bank or by a job title. Instead, I’m learning to measure success by how I feel.

✨How balanced do I feel?

✨How present do I feel with those I love?

✨How calm does my home feel?

✨Do I feel safe?

The good news is that I feel wildly successful if we measure success in this way but there is a smidge of tension. I’ve noticed lately a sense of frustration around the fact that feeling good feels like a full time job at times. Why don’t other people have to go to these lengths just to stay afloat?

Connection to Self trumps a life of masking

I touched on this last week in my voice note when I explained that I’ve made progress in terms of getting more consistent again with my ‘happy habits’ like my meditation and journaling but it’s not just these things that keep me mentally stable.

I also spend quite a bit of time making my home feel calm (no easy feat with young children) and keeping on top of life so that I don’t drown. It doesn’t take much for me to get overwhelmed so this looks like small daily actions to keep on top of things.

This all takes time and occasionally my inner critic will pipe back up and tell me, “of course you’ll never make a success of your career if you’re prioritising other things.”

But the thing is, all these things help me feel safe and connected to myself in a meaningful way and in turn, connected to something greater than myself.

I’m sensing at the moment that more and more people are looking for this sort of connection.

This connection helps me be the most authentic version of myself and ripples out to my family and the people I come into contact with at work and in life and even here on Substack. And I tell you what, this feels far less draining than the years of masking I’ve done.

My lowest times have been when I lose sight of this connection to Self.

Bringing trust with me into my forties

So, I’m entering my forties with excitement that I’m remaining true to myself and learning to love parts of myself that have been hidden. I’m choosing to listen to my intuition and allow myself to be guided. I’m choosing to soak in the many joys in my life. How lucky am I to be able to do that?

I’m easing the pressure I put on myself and living my life in a way which feels right for me and choosing not to subscribe to the ‘always on’ 24/7 hustle of modern life.

I have a deep knowing that by honouring myself in these ways, life will unfold as it is supposed to. There is no need to push or prove myself anymore.

It’s a constant tug of war though but I’m hoping, as time goes on, I’ll get closer to that older, wiser part of myself. She makes herself known regularly and when I lose her I’ll turn to my journal or a meditation or visualisation practice to find her again, just like I do when I want to access my inner child.

The world is changing at an alarming rate. There is so much unknown but one thing I keep coming back to is that connection with Self is one of the most worthwhile investments I’ll make, whatever this new decade has in store.

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

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A few other posts…

I may not have a long post for you today but I still have the same honest & vulnerable connections you’ve come to expect from me each week. Just a little less polished than usual but maybe that’s a good thing? It’s certainly saved me some time!

In this first ever voice note/podcast I’m sharing the following:

✨ Noticing old patterns and how I can’t let myself fall into them and risk burnout

✨ How I’ve been making progress with my ‘happy habits’ (AKA my wellbeing)

✨ What I don’t want to subscribe to - the hustle & too much screen time

✨ Remembering the wonderful ADHD Women’s Wellbeing community run by that I’m part of.

With love and lots of gratitude for reading (and listening to) my words,

Georgina x

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A few other posts on the themes I’ve mentioned today

Does he not know that standard productivity advice doesn’t always work for us ADHD’ers? And also, is he suggesting I need to get more done when I already do so much?

But, in a quest to feel less busy, I’m giving it a go.

There was a chapter of the book that forced me to question my perceptions of time and memory-making. As someone with an ADHD brain, that isn’t naturally inclined to live in the present, it really got me thinking.

The author explained 3 versions of the “self” which is key info for what I’m sharing today about how these learnings truly embedded after reading this chapter.

1. The anticipating self - thinking/planning/worrying about the future

2. The experiencing self - being in the here and now

3. The remembering self - thinks back to the past

Why does time go so goddam fast?

I don’t know where the time has gone.

This is a phrase we hear constantly and I know it’s something I say often too. Time seems to speed up as we get older and evaporate before our eyes.

I’m going to paraphrase things from the book and probably not do it justice but, in essence, the author explains how the mundane routines of daily life, and especially things like journeys to work which are pretty similar day to day, tend to blend into one.

It struck me that phone scrolling 100% falls into this category too and made me even more convinced I needed to stop wasting time on too much of this (see last week’s article!)

Not ‘getting’ mindfulness

The book referenced things like holidays and doing things outside of ‘the norm’ and how we tend to remember these things more successfully than the minutiae of the daily grind.

Reading this reminded me of when I was first introduced to mindfulness, during my coaching course many years ago. The concept of being present in any given moment actually blew my mind. Paying attention to the present moment was actually quite a novel idea to me.

Now I know why this was the case.

As with all these things, mindfulness is a practice - just like training muscles in the gym, so I’m grateful this is something I feel committed to. Not so much the case of the muscle training sadly, but give me time.

I’m all about the anticipation

The concept of the ‘anticipating self’ reminded me of the year I got married. That year was one of the best years of my life and controversially, and probably quite unusually, the planning and the excitement of the build-up may have actually trumped the day itself.

The ‘remembering self’ gets to have the memories logged (unless of course you have ADHD and haven’t found a way to be present at all, much like my younger self).

The author explained that even when things aren’t totally blissful, the memory is still there and even the trickier times, one day, act as an anchor to ‘the good old days.’

Too scared to take the risk

As I read this chapter I realised that it’s become a pattern for me to avoid making plans because I tell myself that if it doesn’t go exactly to plan it’s not worth doing.

This is most definitely the case now I have two children and particularly with a somewhat challenging toddler. It’s easier and less stressful to just keep things simple and not risk ruining plans.

Until this point, I don’t think I realised how much of a scarcity mindset I was living in. Not to mention my need to control things and expect for everything to be perfect.

At that moment, I put my book down, asked Gemini to come up with a nearby-ish mini break destination with family friendly things to do, then I hit Airbnb and reserved a two night getaway for the upcoming bank holiday.

How very spontaneous!

Emotional dysregulation all round

The first night was so awful that I honestly felt like cutting our losses and driving home.

That idea became even more enticing when my son woke up at 4am the morning after a very late night and instantly recommenced the screaming and crying we’d endured the night before.

Actual torture for my sensitive nervous system.

When my husband heard the 4am carnage ensue he came down to check on us. At which point I was crying and saying I think we should go home.

It was a mix of being so utterly exhausted and feeling so hard done by that the one time we go away it should end up like this.

I also thought of the book - how could I be so silly to buy into this whole idea of memory-making and stretching time. What a load of rubbish. It’s not worth it when it all goes to pot, which with a toddler, the chances of that are pretty high. With my toddler, that’s the case, at least.

My husband gave into my son’s demands for the TV downstairs because, quite frankly, how could he not - he was screaming the place down and I went back to sleep for a bit which thankfully saved me.

Accessing self-compassion when I needed it

When I woke up I felt a tad more human and was reminded of one of the core elements of mindful self-compassion that I’d learnt in my course - common humanity.

In moments like this my brain is quick to catastrophise and make myself the victim. I feel like it’s only me who has these experiences. I thought of ‘that perfect mum’ I know who has incredible far flung holidays that always look idyllic (on Instagram, of course).

But then my mind turns to my actual friends. The ones who tell me all the ins and outs of their family adventures. The good, bad and the ugly.

It’s not only my kids who go all kinds of wild when they are overtired and not just me that loses the ability to regulate myself in these high stress moments.

All parents experience times like this and reminding myself of this is an essential component to stop me from going crazy.

I also think of the neurodivergent mothers I’ve met here on Substack who get the overstimulation and emotional dysregulation - big shout out to you all.

In parenting, you can swing from ‘worst day ever’ to ‘how am I this lucky?’ in the space of a few hours. Remembering this stopped me from driving home.

I also couldn’t crush my daughter’s dreams of a fun weekend. She was so excited for our little trip and the Gruffalo trail we had planned and so, we persisted!

Memories banked

Unsurprisingly we did have some really lovely moments and totally lucked out with the UK weather as well. My husband said to me “we’ll look back and laugh” and he is so right.

And so is the author of the book.

I will have a whole host of very wide ranging memories from that holiday - the meltdowns, the forest walks, the laughs, the meditation and journaling session when the house was asleep (highlight!), the lack of sleep, the giant spider in the bath and ant infestation on our final morning.

It’s quite amazing what memories can be made in just a couple of nights away. I guess this is what the author is getting at when she speaks about ‘stretching time.’

Many of those moments I wished could have lasted forever and I used my mindfulness techniques to hook myself into those moments and really experience them.

Of course, I wished with every bone in my body that some of the moments would have flown by in a flash!

That said, after the initial horrors of the first night and 4am morning, I managed to handle the other tricky moments with a little more composure and mindfulness.

I managed to stick to my daily meditation when we were away which is pretty good going and I think is, in part, why the other hard moments felt a little easier.

Mindfulness isn’t just about sitting with the good moments, but also being with the harder ones. Without this little trip I don’t think I’d have had the chance to embed these important lessons. Thanks Universe for sending my way!

I feel like each weekly post I share here unlocks something else for me - and here we are again. I hope too, some of my musings unlock something for you too.

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

If you found yourself nodding along hit the like button 💜

Or to open up the conversation leave a comment 👇🏼

Leave a comment

And finally, if you know any deep feelers muddling their way through neurodivergence, motherhood (or life in general) then feel free to share. I’d love to get my writing to a wider audience and create a little community of like minded souls here 🌷

Share The Soul's Bloom

A few other posts…

We’ve had a bad run of illness lately. First my youngest, then my eldest and then, you guessed it, my turn!

At the time of writing I’m just about starting to feel myself again and have just had the joyous experience of resetting the house and cleaning the bathroom within an inch of its life.

The sensory overwhelm of a messy house

I had some quite major revelations from this enforced downtime.

The first thing to become incredibly apparent was that I really struggle when I can’t keep on top of my usual daily chores.

Everything was getting done that needed to be done (i.e. the kids were fed and got to school & nursery) but everything else piled up.

I’ve realised that having clear surfaces and things put in their rightful place is essential for my mental health.

The act of pottering around and keeping on top of these things is also very soothing for me.

But don’t be fooled, there are places in my house that are dreadfully chaotic, they’re just hidden away in a bid to save my nervous system.

There’s a fair amount of chaos going on in my mind too, which I’m sure you will have clocked if you’re a regular reader!

But suffice to say, surface level order is restored and I feel so much better for it.

The big issue I can no longer ignore

An icky, uncomfortable, dissatisfaction with something that is a big part of my life has been bubbling under the surface of late - my relationship with my phone.

I say it’s a big part of my life because it is. The bloody thing is constantly in my hand or within reach.

I check it when there is absolutely no need and it has become a habit I’m really starting to dislike.

When I was ill in bed, my phone was the portal to entertainment and connection.

I’m not very good at resting and even when watching things there’s a drive to be productive in some way - researching things I need to buy or have a big ol’ hyper focus sesh on something like classified UAPs.

Yep, this is how I spent a few hours and actually, I’m glad I did. I’ve come to accept that my brain needs this kind of stimulation so it’s not actually this kind of thing that bothers me.

Self-inflicted extra frazzled-ness

What leaves me feeling all kinds of bleugh is the dreaded scroll.

Not to mention the flitting between different social media apps and in and out of WhatsApp.

It would seem that WhatsApp has become my non-work equivalent of my work email and I have the same approach to it.

I follow a self-imposed and unwritten rule that messages must be kept on top of and answered asap. My dad (also neurodivergent) is exactly the same. We recently learnt he’d been responding to the round-robin emails sent by his local MP. He thought they were just to him! I mean, is there any hope for me?

It was my time on Instagram that was probably the most unfulfilling.

But let’s not pretend that Substack doesn’t also have the same lure that has our brains coming back for more.

My ADHD brain just loves to chase the dopamine, but my soul is less of a fan.

I was constantly dipping in and out of Substack when I was ill and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d rather a solid block of intentional time spent catching up rather than the ‘in and out’ that leaves me in an addiction loop and even more scattered than usual.

Don’t get me wrong, this is quite harmless when I’m sick in bed but I do have days when I’m way more distracted by my phone than I’d like.

I’ve gotten better lately at putting it out of sight during the evening rush hour with the kids but the downside is that it feels like a big deal to come back to it once the kids are in bed. I’ve got used to the freedom and I kind of dread having to check back in.

I have wonderful close friends and family who I’m in daily contact with and I don’t begrudge this type of phone use one bit but often I’ll end up down some kind of Instagram rabbit hole when my intention had been to send a quick reply to a friend.

There’s also the other more admin-y correspondence about logistics and school stuff. I like to feel on top of all that for the same reasons that I like to stay on top of the house chores - for the sake of my nervous system.

Hmmm is this need to have things up to date and ‘calm’ tripping me up?

A facet of perfectionism perhaps?

Is this kind of rigidity my autism traits in action?

A mask for ADHD which I am no longer able to take off?

A coping strategy?

All of the above?

It’s time to make some changes

I think I could probably be more boundaried with the correspondence side of my phone use - maybe figuring out set times a day to ‘check-in’ and batch it all would work better for me and my brain.

In terms of social media, I think the love for Instagram us millennials had is starting to dwindle. It certainly is for me.

My life feels fast paced right now and what I’m craving from my limited downtime is to be slowed down - not revved up.

Instagram feels overstimulating and fast. I’ll watch one short video and bam, there’s another and before I know it I’ve consumed a whole host of content I didn’t even want to see.

I can notice a gentle rebellion inside me against the big techs stealing our attention so aggressively. I don’t want to succumb and have my already fragile attention torn to tatters.

Another recent wake-up call

Before I was unwell I treated myself to a relaxing bath which is somewhat of a novelty these days.

From memory, I think my intention was to catch-up with some Substack articles but of course I did the ritualistic check of the apps first - WhatsApp then Instagram.

I logged into Instagram to find I had a DM from my friend. She’d forwarded me a video and my goodness, the emotional reaction I had to this was intense. I’ll share the note I wrote about this below for context.

I spent the duration of my bathtime crying and then told my husband all about the video and you guessed it, cried again. He looked at me like I’d actually lost my mind.

Our phones hold the power to totally side-track us and emotionally derail us sensitive souls at any given moment.

There is too much that can trigger us, and often with no warning whatsoever, and the risks of that are everywhere.

In this sense, it feels risky to open our phones not knowing what could be waiting for us and change the course of our day.

I’m glad my friend sent me that video though. Its content was about kids growing up and leaving home and parents getting older and my reaction to this showed me, in that moment, how time with my children, as they are now, is so fleeting and precious.

After seeing that video I wanted to get far away from my phone and start being present for all these beautiful moments, as well as the chaotic moments, as even those will one day be tear-jerker memories.

“Our phones have become our god” - mic drop!!

I was listening to an amazing interview on Mayim Bialik’s breakdown podcast and something the interviewee said really struck a cord, particularly in the light of all the phone use and social media ponderings I’d been having that day.

He said, “Our phones have become our God.”

It took me back to what I’d been saying in last week’s post about how it feels harder to commit to journaling, meditation and mindfulness these days.

Perhaps the one thing that I failed to mention in that post, which is probably only just clicking now, is that so much of my frazzled-ness is likely coming about as a result of the way in which I’m using my phone.

I reach for the phone as a means of escape when my nervous system is struggling and I suspect that my nervous system struggles, in part, due to how I’m using my phone.

My phone is the hub for doing a lot of my life admin and I am a total slave to it.

Add in the context and task switching - that’s a hell of a lot for my ADHD brain.

Or any brain for that matter.

Our brains are being forced to absorb a colossal amount of information in the course of a scrolling session. This isn’t relaxation. It’s no wonder I feel so wiped come evening.

My commitment to slow down

After those few days being unwell and using my phone far too much I have an urge to take things down a notch. I want to do things slowly and mindfully - reading, journalling, meditation, phone sober walks.

The 8-week mindful self-compassion course I did at the start of the year touched upon the concept of fierce self-compassion and, as I continue with this self-compassion work, I’m catching glimpses of that now.

I can’t have my attention shredded to bits all day, whilst my soul becomes further buried.

When I write in my journal, and when I meditate, I connect to something greater than me.

I’ve always felt this connection, even as a really young girl, and there are times when this connection feels strong and other times when I can barely access it, such as on those days when my brain is stuffed to the brim of all the external stimuli I’ve allowed to seep in.

Final thoughts

So, it’s clear that change is afoot. I need to figure out how this will look in practice. I’m toying with the idea of ‘phone fasting’.

Intermittent fasting (with food) works well for me as it is a set chunk of the day when the food noise is gone, amongst other benefits, and I get my most focused work done when I’m fasting so perhaps a phone fast could work well.

I’ve looked into getting a Brick. Has anyone got one?

If you have any tips or insights into any of this I’d be so interested to hear.

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

Today, I’m following on from last week’s post about trying, and failing, to fix my husband so you may want to start there where you’ll learn all about how my husband has made some very positive changes in his life.

In a nutshell, he went from having a gaming obsession and avoiding facing his feelings at all costs to facing them head on, having therapy, quitting alcohol and journaling every day.

Quite the turnaround!

Journaling, along with mindfulness and meditation, have supported me massively over the years but there’s been a definite shift in my dedication to these things since I became a mum six years ago.

As much as it’s amazing seeing the positive changes in my husband since his transformation into a daily journaler, it’s also been a tad triggering because it’s shining a light on what I used to have and what no longer feels accessible.

Can you smell a whiff of resentment?! Let’s dig into it…

The tables have turned

In my previous post I may have led you to conjure up an image of both my husband and I floating through life all zen, sitting in bed journaling together every night.

Sadly, not the case.

Shockingly enough, he is now doing way more of this stuff than me.

I really admire his dedication and self-discipline. He has these qualities in spades.

He’s so good at sticking to things if he can see they’re working for him. He swears by journaling and it’s helped him so much, particularly on difficult days. He uses it a lot to work through business related things too.

I naturally have less self-discipline than him. More accurately, I let my thoughts dictate what I do or don’t do.

Ugh I’m feeling so drained, I’ll just watch a YouTube video, rather than journal.

Not much different to his approach to gaming to be honest, have I become him and he has become me?!

My knack for talking myself out of stuff is an example of how my very prominent internal voice is one of the ADHD traits that can be the most challenging. That inner critic is constantly there with something to say about everything!

The good ol’ days of order, self-care & headspace

I mourn my pre-children morning routine and I do know there will come a day when I get to have some version of that again.

I’m a morning person which is quite uncharacteristic of someone with ADHD, I think, but so are my children, so that early morning journaling time is gone.

Saying this, I did achieve it one day this week when both children slept in way longer than usual, absolute win!

And do you know what? That journaling session gave me some quite profound breakthroughs and helped me work through some things I’ve been pondering. When those moments present themselves, it’s actual gold.

I would really like to commit to scheduling in some more of the journaling time though, and take a leaf out of my husband’s book.

When the connection with myself gets weaker, everything starts to unravel fairly quickly.

I work best when I have set routines in place for things. If I wait to ‘feel like it’ the things that are good for me would never happen. But then, having set routines doesn’t always seem to work for me either as I often can’t maintain it.

Is this the AuDHD push/pull?

The motherhood penalty?

I may be making it sound like I’m down on myself for not being as disciplined as my husband and whilst that may be true, there is some important context here.

I carry a fairly large share of running our lives and caring for the children and it can feel as though there isn’t much time or energy for much else.

Working out the share of who does what has been a journey and is still a work in progress!

One thing I do know is that since becoming a mum I’ve found it incredibly hard to prioritise the things that I know support me.

It’s that thing of knowing what’s good for you but it feels, for some reason, out of reach.

Yes, I still journal regularly but not as much as I’d like and actually, knowing how much it helps me to order my thoughts and be more consistently connected to myself, I do it far less than I need to.

I know I’m not the only mum who finds it hard to follow through on doing anything that is solely for the benefit of herself.

Something shifts when we become mothers and it feels more than the logistics of it all and the sudden reduction in time for ourselves.

It feels like something shifts on an energetic level which suddenly creates far more friction, preventing us from following through on things we want and need to be doing to support ourselves. It’s hard to explain but if you’re a mum, maybe you’ll relate?

But does my husband have the same issue? No, he 100% does not.

He was back to his running schedule within a couple of weeks of my daughter being born, maybe even sooner.

Noticing the resentment

With all this in mind, and being totally honest, it’s hard to not to feel a bit resentful of his ability to support himself in the way he does.

Is it jealousy or resentment I am feeling? Maybe a bit of both…

I once heard a therapist on a podcast say that resentment is a sign of an unmet need and I have come back to this a lot in early motherhood.

The resentment rage often kicks in when I roll into bed as I finish watching a YouTube video trying to keep my eyes open before they inevitably close as soon as my head hits the pillow - whilst my husband sits there happily journaling away.

I can identify the unmet need - it’s that I need to be having the connection time to myself but for whatever reason I can’t seem to commit to it. Not in a consistent way at least.

There are a few things at play here -

1. There is still work for us to do as parents in terms of splitting the load of family life but honestly, it’s a minefield. I’m physically around more so it makes sense for some/most things to land with me.

2. I also think the challenges I have as a result of my ADHD and hormone issues play a huge part. Feeling so mentally scattered and depleted a lot of the time takes its toll. I end up numbing out and distracting myself and, in this sense, I can find some compassion and empathy for that past version of my husband.

I could help myself more than I do though, I’m sure.

Being on my phone before bed doesn’t give my hyperactive brain the wind down time it needs and being uber productive all day long also has a similar impact. But I tell myself I need that ‘numb out’ time (just like my husband ‘needed’ his gaming).

It can be a vicious cycle.

What I really need is tech free space and time to just ‘be.’ It’s simple really, yet feels so hard to achieve. Why? This is something I’m thinking a lot about right now.

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With the right support, change is possible

I can see how it’s easy to get stuck in the acceptance stage post ADHD diagnosis.

I understand my challenges now, but I don’t want to stop there. I want to use this insight as a springboard for meaningful change.

ADHD plus hormone challenges (still a work in progress) plus motherhood is hard but I don’t have to accept this as my lot. I am lucky in that I know what things support me and can recognise the barriers I face.

I can slowly chip away to make the changes to get me to a place where I’m supporting myself in a way I know is possible and although it doesn’t always feel like it, I am making progress.

In the last year or so I’ve managed to muster enough self-compassion to know this is worth doing, even if it doesn’t feel straight forward.

I’m actively seeking strategies that support me, recognising what doesn’t serve me and what changes I need and deserve.

Admittedly, it feels quite hard to do this alone and I’m about to get some AuDHD coaching which I hope will help me be more consistent with the changes I hope to make.

I must remember - it’s not about perfection!

I’m conscious not to fall into the perfection trap. Been there, done that.

This is where I can tend to get a bit rigid (the autism traits coming out perhaps). I’ll tell myself I’ll commit to one journaling session per week, and then when I inevitably fail to maintain that, I’ll beat myself up.

I know and accept I don’t do life perfectly. For years I kidded myself this perfection was within reach but of course it isn’t. Not for any of us, no matter what the internet would have us believe.

I guess it’s about embracing the messiness of it all whilst staying true to that vision we hold for ourselves.

Final thoughts

So, going back to my husband and the progress he’s made - I am truly proud of him because none of this self-work is easy. If it was everyone would do it wouldn’t they?

Whilst I hope to take a leaf out of his book I also must acknowledge we are different people.

I have barriers he doesn’t, and in many ways, being a woman feels like a barrier in this context and I wish it didn’t. Just like I don’t want my neurodivergence to hold me back from living the life I want to live.

These aren’t simple problems to solve but together as a couple we can figure out what works for us, as long as I continue to be honest and ask for support when I need it, and vice versa.

This isn’t about blame, judgment or comparison.

Just two people trying to navigate this crazy world whilst showing our children, as they grow up, the value of self-awareness and what actual self-care looks like.

I’d love to know if any of this relates or if you have any insights or pearls of wisdom for me? I learn a lot from the wonderful souls on Substack and love the conversations I’m having.

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With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

P.S. Here’s last week’s post if you missed it along with a couple of others with similar themes.

Many years ago I sat with one of my best friends in a bar on a Friday night confessing to her an issue I was having with my husband.

He’d got far, far too into gaming.

It wasn’t just that he was doing it a lot, it was what it brought out in him.

We lived in a flat at the time and I remember relaxing in the bath and being disturbed (in every sense of the word) by the thud of him slamming his hand and the controller down on the sofa, out of sheer rage.

Back then, I don’t think the expression ‘giving me the ick’ was ‘a thing’ but that is the perfect explanation of my reaction to his gaming obsession.

Something about it really wound me up.

Why was gaming such an ick for me?

I don’t have anything against gaming per se, in fact my sister and I used to spend many hours playing Crash Bandicoot and Cool Borders on the PlayStation in school holidays (IYKYK).

One of the things that bugged me was that it felt like a waste of time, when he was doing it so much.

I’m all for people unwinding and using their spare time however they like but as his wife, I could see what was actually happening.

He was numbing his feelings and coupled with his ritualistic couple of beers over the weekend I think this became a comforting coping strategy for him.

In that sense, maybe it served a purpose but my sense, back then, was that it was creating a blocker for him to actually know how he was feeling. And with this comes a big disconnect from his sense of self. This was my guess at least, and I still stand by it.

Not one to hold back with these things, I shared my thoughts and feelings on the matter and I recall a few heated discussions in which he declared “I’ll just sell the PlayStation and all my games then.”

At the time, he didn’t actually go through with getting rid of it all.

As with all these things, people have to come to their own conclusions and be able to notice when coping strategies go from being quite innocuous to somewhat unhealthy.

Let’s fast forward…

Back to present day, and I am pleased to say the gaming obsession is dead in the water.

It’s just hit me now as I write this that his decision was probably made for him because when we had a two year stint living with my parents between moves the PlayStation stayed in storage, praise the lord!

But I do also think that he was a bit done with it at this point and noticed it wasn’t bringing out great feelings in him.

Whilst living with my parents, for various reasons, my husband’s mental health took a dip and he was under a great deal of stress at work.

In case I’m painting the picture that he’s a bum who games 24/7, this is not the case, and never was.

He works incredibly hard and is also an avid runner. I’m pretty sure he has undiagnosed ADHD and running literally keeps him on an even keel and without it, boy do we know about it. But during this period, even running wasn’t helping.

He went on to have therapy. He’s actually had a couple of courses of therapy over the last few years and it’s been so good for him.

Prior to this, and through my coaching training and through having therapy myself, I’d learnt about ‘faulty thinking patterns’ and had gently suggested a few tendencies he was displaying - catastrophising and all or nothing thinking, for example. I can recognise it because I am that way inclined as well!

I’m sure I came over as an annoying and nagging wife back in the icky gaming days, and perhaps also when I’d attempt to psychoanalyse him and suggest he try some of the things that help me, such as therapy, meditating and journaling.

But it was coming from a place of love and from knowing that by facing our demons and staring our thoughts in the face, rather than pushing them away, there is a healthier and happier way of living to be had.

Ultimately though, people need to come to this stuff in their own time.

And guess what? He did.

Time for change

Let’s be clear, I’m not taking the glory for him turning things around. This was his doing.

What I do think has happened though is that he’s seen the positive impact my self-care rituals have had on me over the years and it’s rubbed off perhaps?

I remember being at a Gabby Bernstein live event in London a few years ago and a woman in the audience asked how she could get her husband to stop turning to unhealthy habits and instead lean into healthier strategies and Gabby’s response was, “Be the light.”

That stuck with me.

We think we have the power to control and change others and I’ve mistakenly thought this more times than I care to admit, but it doesn’t work.

I apply the same ethos to parenting. Show, don’t tell.

Goodbye to the booze

Another big change is that he’s not had alcohol for almost one and a half years. He didn’t have a drink problem but he noticed that it was a coping strategy that no longer served him.

He could tell it was exacerbating his anxiety and sleep problems so felt he needed to knock it on the head. Even his ritualistic two beers per night over the weekend had an impact in this sense.

He also noticed, as he got into his forties, that alcohol impacted his running and, with young children and lack of sleep to also scupper his training, he didn’t want anything else to hinder his running performance.

And this one is a real shocker - every single night, bar one, this year he has journaled and he’s started meditating a bit as well.

If someone had come up to me when I was in that bar with my friend all those years ago, tapped me on the shoulder and said, “don’t worry about it, give it a few years and he’ll be an avid journaler and also t-total” I would have fallen off my chair!

So it turns out that I have a lot to say on this topic and this post was getting far too long so this is part one and part two will land in your inbox next Saturday.

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I shared a note yesterday about how, like many of us, I watched the Manosphere documentary in absolute horror but the positive to come out of it was that under my roof there is a man trying really bloody hard to become more fully connected to himself and in turn, to others.

He welcomes vulnerability in himself, in me and in our children. No toxic masculinity over here, thank goodness. Of course he’s not perfect. Who is? And as a couple we are constantly having work to do but when we’re more connected to ourselves individually we stand a better chance of success as a couple.

My hope is that sharing personal stories helps others recognise themselves in the experiences of others, see new perspectives and hopefully prompt conversation and introspection.

My husband had the courage to go inwards and seek support and that’s not easy. I wanted to share this story (or part 1 at least) to show what’s possible on the other side of struggle. In doing so, perhaps he will ‘be the light’ for others.

See you next week for part two!

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

When my sister uttered the words, “do you think you might have ADHD?” to me I was a tad offended.

Do you not know how many balls I’m juggling as a mum to a little one, also going through IVF, project managing a renovation and working?!

However, we now know she was on the money. And you can read back through previous posts to find out about my eventual diagnosis, if you’re new around here.

If, like me, you are also learning you’re neurodivergent later in life you may also relate to the almost addictive process of learning about whatever flavour, or flavours, of neurodivergence you have.

The deep dive

It will be unsurprising to hear that I love hyper focusing on various topics and, let me tell you, there is something captivating about diving into neurodivergence and getting to join the dots of your own life.

So many late diagnosed adults will have most certainly had variations of the following thoughts:

It all makes sense now.

There have been so many penny drop moments.

How have I gone my whole life not knowing my brain is wired this way?!

Of course things have been hard, I was trying to survive in environments that weren’t set up for me.

I had a year or so between when I started to engage with the idea that I have ADHD and then having my assessment.

During the initial few months I deep dived into books and podcasts. I purposefully swerved too much short form social media content because I wanted the detail and nuance that can easily get lost online. I wanted to hear from experts as well as from people who, like me, have gone most of their life not knowing they were neurodivergent.

I found people I resonated with on such a deep level and hearing other people’s stories helped me feel seen. The comfort I got from hearing these stories, as well as hearing doctors and various experts share the science, provided a level of validation I had never expected to find.

I couldn’t unpick it all alone

Before I knew I had ADHD, on a good day I chalked up my life experiences to just being a bit ‘different’ or ‘anxious’ and on a bad day the reason behind my struggles was because I was ‘stupid’, ‘incapable’ or ‘weak.’

Validation is a big deal. And when you’ve gone through life not really getting it you want more and more.

I think it can be possible to get a bit too obsessed with absorbing all there is to learn though. I was inhaling it every chance I got. All the while I was still having the thought ‘what if I’ve got it all wrong?’

I feel very glad that when I was in the depths of research and self-reflection that I decided to have some therapy sessions.

At this point I was gearing up to go back to work after my second maternity leave and after my mental health took a big nose dive when I returned to work after having my daughter in 2021 I wanted to give myself the best chance of coping with the transition, especially in the light of all this self-discovery.

The joy of finding the right therapy, for me

I was incredibly lucky to find a therapist who was the perfect fit for me at this particular stage I was at. I selected her because of two models of therapy she specialised in - one was Acceptance Commitment Therapy, which is one I have researched a lot and found the principles very helpful, and the other was Compassion Focused Therapy which felt a good fit.

As luck would have it she’d also recently done some training in neurodivergence and was also a mum which obviously wasn’t a prerequisite but actually, the knowing look in her eye and gentle nod whenever I shared parenting challenges was another hit of validation and an added bonus to our sessions.

When in the midst of the kind of self-reflection that comes about as a result of learning of neurodivergence later in life, it’s easy for the mind to feel like a jumbled mess so having a safe space and a compassionate and non-judgmental professional to work through everything with was beyond helpful.

Another shift on the horizon

After our course of sessions ended I was settling back to work well and life felt pretty steady or at least as steady as it can do when dealing with life as a working mum and simultaneously getting smacked in the face with hormone challenges and all that comes with managing the traits of ADHD at this point in life.

Once back at work there was less time for all the deep diving and, to be honest, I’d probably learnt everything there was to learn about ADHD and the interplay with hormones, which has been a huge component for me.

Another shift occurred when I got to the top of the list and had my assessment followed by the diagnosis of inattentive ADHD plus the additional information of ASD traits. Before I knew it I was riding another wave of hyper focus into it all again. Not to mention all the processing in real time that I’ve been doing here on Substack.

The underlying presence of fear

I’m at a point now where I’m noticing yet another shift.

What I’m noticing is that I’m far more compassionate towards myself than I have ever been in my life but with this comes difficulty, I’m finding.

It feels quite hard to articulate but let me give it a go -

The level of self-awareness that my ADHD diagnosis has afforded me has acted as a spring board to reach levels of self-compassion that have never felt possible before. And, with this, comes clarity. Being able to see who I really am, what I value and how I want my life to look like is obviously brilliant in many ways. I’m about to turn 40, not 90, so I do have time on my side, I hope.

But with all this comes pressure.

I’m petrified to ‘waste’ yet more time.

Our lives are, essentially, a series of decisions aren’t they? Of course many things are taken out of our hands and the universe often has other plans for us but when you’ve gone through life feeling scared of not coping and of failing and letting people down you can end up not taking any risks. Playing it safe and keeping things steady feels like the only doable option.

The risk of not coping feels even greater now I’m a mum. I have to cope. Our family relies on me keeping things afloat. I also need to balance practical things like money, logistics, time with my children and much more. All of that feels totally overwhelming right now.

Clarity over our needs is only the first step, getting them met is a whole other ball game and I’m not sure I’m very au fait with the rules on that one. And as for going after my dreams? That feels just as hazy, in my current set-up.

Accepting my limitations

When I was a child I fantasised about the kind of life and career I would have and when you get to almost 40 and the fantasy doesn’t match the reality it brings up all kinds of feelings - regret, grief, fear, sadness but also some hope - maybe I can still make it happen. Maybe?

When I allow myself to dream, like I did so often as a child, I am also met with a voice that says ‘this is all very well, but you also need to be realistic.’ And I don’t think this is my inner critic (for once), I think this is the voice of reason.

It’s a fact that I can’t push myself to the limits without burning out.

It’s a fact I need space in my life for decompression and regulation.

It’s a fact I can’t stay up late working on a side hustle without a very real knock on to my wellbeing and sanity.

Right now, I feel like I’m walking a tight rope of balancing my own needs (just enough to not crumble) with the needs of my family. But where do I come in all of this?

I keep thinking of the saying - nothing changes until nothing changes but what needs to change and what can feasibly change are two very different things.

Like so many other neurodivergent people, I’ve had many wrong turns in my life - mainly in my career with periods of it all getting too much and hitting burnout. I still struggle to not see these things as failures but the self-awareness I now have does take the sting out somewhat.

I have to find a way to move forward, honour my needs (and my dreams) and somehow trust that my next chapter, however this looks, will be different.

Does any of this resonate with you? Do you also feel like you have a sense of your needs and vision for your future but there is a lingering sense of fear that it’s not quite achievable.

Or have you somehow managed to get to the other side of this? If so, please do share your wisdom, I’m all ears!

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With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

A couple of weeks ago I reached a Substack milestone of posting a note which went maybe a smidge viral.

I mean, I have no idea what constitutes viral on Substack. Does it depend on your audience size? Not a clue. What I do know is that usually my notes would get between zero and three likes, on average, and this one has over 500 and another one I posted shortly after has almost 200 likes which, for me, is pretty good going.

On the day I posted it my subscriber count was 75 and it had been ‘stuck’ on this number for weeks I think. Little did I know that the traction from these notes was going to bring me well over 100 new subscribers to The Soul’s Bloom. What a lovely anniversary treat to mark my first year on Substack.

It’s not about the numbers but…

It’s funny really because the note was all about how I may not have reached a high number of subscribers but I have reached way more valuable milestones throughout this first year on Substack.

Yet, here I am, celebrating the numbers! I recognise the irony.

Rather than paraphrase the note, I’ll share it here because it’s the themes I’m going to dig into a bit today -

I’ve thought long and hard about what it was about that note which struck a chord with people.

I know we love to support the underdog. Maybe it was that? Or perhaps it was comforting for other writers who are also quietly building their writing practice and finding their voice?

Or maybe it was the Substack gods pressing a button to finally allow me to win favour with the algorithm? Who knows!

Regardless, I’m allowing myself to have this little moment and feel happy that after a year of quietly and consistently writing, people are starting to read my words.

I may start to lose subscribers as soon as I publish my next post (I heard that’s a thing) and this may just be ‘a moment’ rather than the start of something exciting but either way, I feel so incredibly grateful for such lovely words of encouragement I’ve received over the last week.

And do you know what it told me?

It’s told me that it isn’t just me who really hopes to continue building self-trust and authenticity.

It’s not just me who is sick and tired of talking down to myself.

It’s not just me who has started to notice the glimpses of my true self and yearns to give her more air time.

So many of us are walking this exact same path - whether experiencing a later-in-life diagnosis of neurodivergence, like me, or not.

My ADHD diagnosis has provided the chance to get into detective mode and unpick my life. I’ve gained a level of self-awareness that I would never have reached if I was still floating about totally oblivious that I’m neurodivergent, with my inner critic running the show.

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A new decade is upon me

I turn 40 this year (in a couple of months, in fact) and I think the turn of a decade is a reflective time for many of us. Times of deep reflection also come about for other reasons - grief, ill health, becoming a parent - all kinds of reasons!

Or, for some, maybe the old ways of being simply no longer feel sustainable and you want something more. I hear you!

I know that’s where I’m at and my ADHD diagnosis was the catalyst for this meaningful change. It also coincided with the still fairly early years of motherhood and some hormonal turmoil chucked into the mix as well.

Noticing what unites us

We all have our thing (or things) that finally make us stop and reflect and ask ourselves some big questions.

It feels comforting to know others are on this path alongside me and I’d love nothing more than to build a community of people who are striving for the same thing - genuine self-compassion.

I think probably the best thing about this fun week of wayyyyy more engagement than I’m used to is that it’s made something click in my head about who I’m writing for and what I want to create here.

The world is so noisy right now. Noisier and more scary than ever. It’s become normalised to spend hours consuming - whether that’s the news or social media and how much of that is actually nurturing our souls?

We look outside ourselves for the answers - I do exactly the same. I’ve spent my life to date trusting everyone else except myself but in moments when I do get quiet, and often that’s when I’m sitting with my journal or typing away on my laptop, I tap into something that feels like home. That compassionate voice comes through. The one that has been drowned out by all the external noise.

Writing here on Substack, and especially now that I have a few more subscribers, it’s giving me some accountability to keep going down this road of self-discovery. My relationship with myself needs to be healthy and top notch because, let’s face it, I’m stuck with her until the end.

Why would I want my mind to continue chatting away such punishing garbage when there is a compassionate voice in there who has the power to directly impact the course of my life? I’m making the purposeful decision to choose her.

A work in progress - for now and eternity!

As someone who has such an ingrained fear of being misunderstood (hello, RSD!) I want to make it clear that I never want to come across as someone who has it all figured out. That is far from the case.

I’m generally fairly untrusting of anyone who gives off this vibe because aren’t we all just fumbling around trying to figure it all out? This is why the accountability piece is huge for me.

I am crystal clear on what things support my mental health and vision for my future, as well as the things that do the opposite but do my actions always match up to this? Nope!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I want to keep showing up here in order to make sure I always make ‘good’ choices - that’s not what I mean at all (there I go again, the fear of being misunderstood seeping through).

What I mean is that I’ll keep showing up here, and hopefully continue building connections with like-minded souls, because doing so is what keeps me regularly tapped into my compassionate voice.

It is this part of myself that I want to nurture and without this space I know that, without a doubt, I would be drowning under all the demands in my life and consuming too much of what doesn’t serve me.

I know this with certainty because it happens to me most weeks when it almost feels impossible to conceive that I’ll be able to drag myself out of my day-to-day life as a mum, wife, daughter, sister, friend and employee and into my Substack life, but every time I do it’s a little dipping of the toe into something that nurtures my soul and honours the truest part of myself.

When I say this out loud it’s perhaps a little mad that I should be sharing such an intimate and vulnerable part of myself in this way but it just kind of feels right, so here I am.

So what I’m saying is, regardless of if my audience numbers plateau again, grow, or even fall, I will keep showing up for myself and for those of you who are walking the same path.

I may be doing it messily and imperfectly but I promise you, I’m doing it with a whole lot of heart.

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

Here you can read my reflections on my first year on Substack -

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My ADHD assessment brought to light some autism traits and since getting this information, even more has started making sense. Perhaps this is why I’ve spent my life feeling like such a contradiction.

Learning I have ADHD has helped me make sense of a lot but it doesn’t feel like the full picture. To get a diagnosis of either or both ADHD or autism there needs to be evidence of childhood traits which has got me thinking about how I experienced the world as a child.

My daughter is almost six and I often find myself wondering what I was really like at her age.

We’re the same, but different

In many ways my daughter reminds me of myself when I was her age and friends and family say the same, though one thing that she doesn’t have in common with me as a child is how she feels about birthday parties - she bloody loves them! When I was a young child I hated them.

I remember dreading a birthday party of someone I knew from ‘outside of school’ for weeks. I guess there was more dread than usual because I knew I wouldn’t know anyone. It felt scary and no part of it was appealing to me.

I was the child that clung to my mum and didn’t want her to leave at birthday parties. I asked my mum about her memories of this recently and she said I’d often find an adult to support me. The subtext to this was - ‘you struggled, but you were resourceful’. A theme that is probably still accurate today.

These school party memories came flooding back lately because my daughter was invited to a party by a friend from ‘outside of school.’ She only really knew the birthday girl and it was a ‘drop and go’ party and we’ve not had many of those yet.

She was not at all fazed. No hint of apprehension.

This was a huge relief to me because the thought of her struggling with the same anxieties that plagued me as a child actually feels too much to bear.

My inner child getting activated

On the same day as the party that my daughter bravely went to on her own we had another party which was unfortunately not a drop and go. Cue the dread. I still don’t love a kids party it would seem…

My inner child was incredibly activated that day. As I waved my daughter off for the party that morning, I reflected on how terrifying those same environments felt for me as a child. With those old feelings of social dread resurfacing, my mind turned toward the party we had planned for later that afternoon and it was like I was a scared six year old again.

What is it that feels so hard?

I heard an autistic person at work brilliantly explaining what kinds of social environments feel hard recently and it was yet another light bulb moment.

It’s the unstructured nature of things like parties, and networking events, that can be so challenging. The absence of ‘rules.’ The endless opportunities for micro interactions throughout the course of a two hour party is a lot.

The social dread I had on this particular day was more than ‘I can’t really be bothered’.

Parties aren’t always this hard but on this day it all felt quite heavy. I’d had a bad morning with the kids anyway and it was a hormonally turbulent day too so there wasn’t much of a buffer for my nervous system.

But… it hasn’t always felt quite this hard

I’m almost forty and I’ve survived many social situations in my time. And genuinely enjoyed many of them. I think my friends would describe me as sociable and probably ‘good’ in social settings. How then, does a children’s birthday party feel so darn scary?

Alcohol has undoubtedly been a crutch over the years. Just one glass can take the edge off and be a welcome coping strategy, albeit not a very healthy one when too heavily relied upon.

I shared this note shortly after the double whammy party day:

But then after posting I got thinking that surely alcohol isn’t the only reason these things haven’t always felt this hard.

I reminded myself that I had several years of not really drinking when trying to conceive and going through IVF. I then remembered that it was during these years that I was doing a lot of networking and front facing stuff - the career things I mentioned in this earlier post, for instance.

I was in the thick of it with surgery for endometriosis, rounds of fertility drugs and then IVF. I was definitely not using alcohol to get me through those times.

Ooooh the penny dropped, instead of alcohol, I was using the mask.

Visualisation as my crutch

Since I was a teenager I’ve used visualisation as a technique to help me cope.

I once heard Uri Geller talk about the power of the mind. He shared a technique in which you imagine a TV screen with your ideal scenario playing out on the screen - I guess he was talking about manifesting but for me it became a trusty tool for social survival.

I used this as a way to visualise how I wanted to ‘be’ in certain situations. I’d see myself showing up confidently in situations that would naturally feel quite scary. I did it most nights when I was going through the angst and anxiety at boarding school.

This technique is highly effective. It works. Athletes use visualisation ahead of races and there’s scientific evidence to prove its effectiveness.

Since learning of my neurodivergence I’ve not used this coping strategy much at all. I think that’s because I’d started to wonder if this strategy is a blatant form of masking.

I’m working really hard to be my authentic self right now and to begin the process of unmasking, in some settings.

Surely, visualisation is the opposite of that?

What if I showed up to a birthday party unmasked?

So, let’s just say I decided to rock up at the birthday party unmasked.

On the particular day I’ve mentioned above, I was feeling quite insecure, for many reasons, and anxious from having my inner child activated. I was feeling like a scared little girl going to a party alone again.

If I’d not ‘masked up’ to get through the party I would have sat quietly in a corner and not spoken to a soul. Just like I used to sit on my mum’s lap at parties when I was little.

That’s not the person I want to be.

It’s also not the person I am. Not all of the time at least.

This is now going to sound mad having just said all of the above but there have been school parties I’ve actually looked forward to. I know, I know. This is a direct contradiction to everything I’ve just said. Welcome to my world!

I think what happens is that sometimes ADHD is in the driving seat and sometimes it’s my autistic traits that take more of the lead. So much is driven by my hormones and where I am in my cycle as well so there are endless contributing factors to how I’ll feel and show up on a given day.

Is there a happy medium?

I think I’ve been too hasty in kicking my trusty technique of visualisation to the curb because it’s not ‘authentic’ - it’s served me very well pre-diagnosis.

But it can also be true that I’ve taken in too far in the past. It’s pushed me into a version of myself that felt too much of a stretch and ultimately burnt me out at the time.

What if on days when I feel like my autism traits are running the show I could borrow some of my ADHD traits which are more in line with the parts of me that are chattier and inclined to take a few ‘risks’ in a social setting?

It feels like a creative way of using my visualisation skills. I loved drama at school and am naturally quite imaginative so this kind of coping technique appeals to me.

I crave predictability, safety and control in situations that feel scary so perhaps this is a way I can achieve that, even if it’s an illusion because we never have full control do we?

I will approach with caution

All this said, if I was spending too much of my time having to rely on these coping strategies it would be far too draining - as I’ve learnt time and time again, the hard way.

Now that I have awareness of my neurodivergence I can use my coping strategies that have served me well but too regularly forcing myself into environments which require this of me is simply not going to work for me. I don’t have it in me. I need to figure out what’s worth my energy, and what’s not.

As with so much of what I write about there is considerable nuance and a very elusive balance to strike. I’m still finding my way and will be doing so for a lifetime I imagine.

An important question I’m asking myself

In order to gain some clarity around my coping strategies and masking, I’m asking myself this question -

Who do I want to be?

I want to be someone who can build genuine connections and crucially, with the right people.

I know from life experience that being able to step outside my comfort zone has led to friendships I would have otherwise missed out on.

On days when the chattier and more confident side of me has felt more accessible it’s opened up opportunities for conversation that have gone beyond the surface level chit chat. Hallelujah! That all feels good and I don’t want to pass that up.

And it’s also true that I thrive when I have peace and solitude. Figuring out ways to meet these needs is not easy during this season of life, but I’ll keep trying.

If you resonate with anything I’ve shared here I’d love to hear your thoughts - having conversations about all this truly lights me up.

Leave a comment

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

P.S Here are some previous posts touching on masking and authenticity -

My one year anniversary on Substack! Wowzers, it feels like a milestone and I’m proud of myself for sticking at it.

I see other writers on here who gain traction so quickly and before they know it have a really engaged community. I’ve fallen into the comparison trap before, both online and offline, but I’m finally learning how to swerve it.

I joined Substack not being totally sure what I was writing about, or for whom for that matter.

Well, that’s not strictly true. I do know who I was writing for. I was writing for myself.

It sounds like I’m just saying that to justify not becoming a Substack bestseller in my first year but honestly, finding my voice in my writing again, in a public setting, has felt huge.

The star of the show - my inner critic

Writing in the pages of my journal has been a constant form of self-therapy for me and writing on here has been an extension of this. Of course I’m not quite as raw as I am when I’m only writing for myself but I am pretty candid. It’s the only way I know how to be really.

I become my own trusted companion through my writing. It helps me tap into the compassionate side of myself which can get so deeply buried.

Never has this been more evident than when I got my ADHD diagnosis last year. Gaining the realisation that my inner critic had been spouting lies all these years, and I’m not actually broken, has been life changing.

I’d gone through my life thinking I was ‘inept’ (my inner critic’s favourite mean word to hurl at me in tricky moments) and I’m only now realising that’s not true. Yes, I find some seemingly ‘basic’ things hard at times but this doesn’t make me less of a person.

My inner critic has led the charge throughout my life and as one of my friends rightly pointed out, “she’s a real bitch.” She’s held me back in so many ways and I don’t want this theme to continue in my life. Writing here gives me some accountability to not slip back into old ways of letting her run the show.

By telling strangers on the internet the kind of garbage my inner critic chucks my way on the daily helps me dissolve some of the shame I’ve carried with me for so long and allows true self-compassion to win.

This so easily may not have happened

One huge reason it feels like such a big deal to consistently show up here is because I feel somewhat time and energy poor in this season of my life with young children.

I asked myself how on earth I would carve out the time and headspace. I went back and forth for a while. Should I? Shan’t I? Was I putting too much extra pressure on myself when my life was already feeling quite intense and some weeks I truly felt like I was drowning?

Familiar fears of failure resurfaced, as well as fears about getting too sucked in and getting into productivity overdrive which is another trap I can fall into. I was/am also feeling a bit done with social media. Will Substack fall into this ick-inducing category too?

What if people don’t read my words? Or worse, what if they do and think I’m a self-obsessed loser?

Thankfully, I didn’t listen to my inner critic when she was trying to talk me out of it, my compassionate voice won this time. Woohoo!

When connection happens

The transmission of my truth to someone else who may nod along and feel less alone with their own ‘stuff’ is one of the reasons I’ve kept at it. We’re all way more connected than we realise. The kind of common humanity I see on Substack is what keeps me showing up here and engaging with other writers.

There will be threads of my internal world which resonate with all kinds of people, for all kinds of reasons - whether they recognise themes in themself or others.

I like to think I’m raising awareness of the fact that many people, just like me, are going about their lives looking and seeming totally ‘normal’ and ‘fine’ - but their inner landscape is far more complex.

I’m incredibly lucky to have some amazing people in my life who provide me with ample opportunities for genuine connection but I think I was craving connection of another kind.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on what I was looking for, and this is still evolving, but I’m pleased to say that a form of connection which I have achieved is deeper connection to myself.

Having a weekly commitment to myself has done wonders for my self-trust and sense of worth.

Every Sunday morning I would sit up in bed typing away whilst my husband dealt with whatever the children were throwing at us. The pull to intervene when I heard crying, tantrums and my husband’s firm voice was strong but I resisted and every time I did, I sent a message to myself that I matter which can be easy to forget when in the throes of mothering young children.

My compassionate voice grew a little bolder as the months rolled on and, in January, I started using my Fridays, which I’d previously spent with my son, to have time for my writing and do some extra training and yet more pondering on future career endeavours. Building this space for myself has been game changing.

Why your feedback matters

To receive messages which tell me I’m not the only one having the kinds of feelings and experiences I share means a heck of a lot. I also know I have a fair few quiet readers and if you’re one of them then I’m so grateful for you. It helps keep me going to know people are coming back to read my words more than once.

It’s rare for me to write a piece and not have that thought of ‘hang on, maybe it’s just me that feels this way. Can I actually say this?’

I never regret sharing the things I share in my writing, particularly when I hear that it’s helped someone else feel less alone in their experiences. This is the kind of connection that really matters to me.

Writing about neurodivergence

My ADHD diagnosis has been a key theme of my writing to date. I was very tentative with sharing my musings on this before my diagnosis and was feeling very much an imposter and was also worrying about judgement from ‘saying the thing.’

Thankfully this trepidation has been overtaken by a pull to talk about neurodivergence and share how it feels to live a life undiagnosed and the damage that can cause.

I’m now awaiting an autism assessment which I’m sure will be another thread to my writing. Gaining the level of self-awareness I’ve been able to access through learning of my neurodivergence has, in no uncertain terms, changed my life.

It’s altered how I view myself and is enabling me to meaningfully tweak the way in which I speak to myself, and that feels particularly massive.

I like to think that this learning is having a ripple effect on those close to me and my greatest hope is that my children grow up to be kind to themselves, in a way which simply wasn’t possible for me. I truly believe it’s not too late to change this though.

Who am I writing for?

As well as for myself, I do also hope I’m reaching others in a meaningful way. I’ve taken my time with figuring out who I’m writing for.

When I write, I like to imagine the type of person who may benefit from various posts I share. I often write for the version of myself who would have, at one point, really bloody needed to hear the words I’m sharing.

I sense that I’m writing for the fellow deep feelers, the Highly Sensitive People (HSPs) & empaths, possibly late-diagnosed neurodivergent parents who are navigating the similar pressures and perhaps some women riding the hormonal storms amidst it all as well. Gosh, I see you. It’s a lot!

Now I’ve proved to myself that I can carve out the time for Substack, and that it’s also massively rewarding, I’ll try and get my sh*t together a little more. I’ll aim to get my teeny tiny corner of Substack a bit more polished looking and figure out how to get myself out there a bit more as I’d love to make more impact.

It’s been wonderful not having too many eyes on me as I find my feet (or more accurately, my voice) but allowing myself to be seen feels like the next stage in growing my self-trust and doing just what my ADHD assessor told me to - live my life like I’m meant to.

I am filled with hope, excitement and of course some of that all too familiar fear. How could I not feel that when I lug around such a mouthy inner critic?!

If you’ve been part of my first year on Substack then thank you so much. Whether you’ve read a post, liked, shared or commented (publicly or privately) I really am so grateful.

Vulnerability leads to meaningful connection, I really believe that.

I’m never going to have it all figured out and I kind of love that about life. It’s an endless opportunity for connection of all kinds and getting to delve into it all here is simply wonderful.

If you have any thoughts on what has resonated from my writing so far or what you would like to read more of - or see more of even, please let me know. I have intentions for videos, audio mediations and various things so watch this space.

If you think others may like to read my work please do share and help me in my next phase of working on that self-trust and allowing myself to be a little more seen.

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With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

P.S Here are some of my other posts that give you a bit of a flavour about my journey here to date.

A running theme of my writing is my punishing inner critic which has been chatting away for most of my life.

Only now that I have my ADHD diagnosis can I view myself differently and have more genuine compassion for myself, at long last!

My inner critic talks a lot of BS and I can reframe various character flaws my inner critic has had me believe for all these years but it’s important to say that not all of my shortcomings can be explained away by the diagnosis.

Always yearning for control

Through the process of re-evaluating my life through the lens of my diagnosis I think it’s helpful to be discerning about what my actual flaws and shortcomings are and which have been created by my inner critic, due to the things I find challenging.

Today I’m going to talk about an actual flaw of mine which is to chase control - or more accurately, an illusion of control.

That said, do any of us really have any control on how our lives play out?

If you’ve read my post on my early motherhood struggles you’ll know this theme showed up a lot in early motherhood.

I know why I seek control. I do it to feel safe.

Unpredictability and uncertainty have always been scary for me and any element of control about how my day (or life) may pan out helps me feel safe.

I think a lot of neurodivergent people feel this way for some obvious, and other less obvious, reasons. In that sense, I guess my neurodivergence is an explanation for this perceived flaw (note that I have said explanation, not excuse).

I’ll give myself credit that I have self-awareness around this which is very important when it comes to our less healthy patterns of behaviour.

Self-awareness only gets us so far though doesn’t it?

A by-product of control seeking

Controlling behaviour comes in all shapes and sizes. I’m grateful that it’s not shown up in any major ways in relation to food, alcohol or other substances and also not in any major way in relation to controlling others.

I can acknowledge small ways in which it’s shown up in these ways though and noticing that is really important and not something I’ll delve into in this post - maybe another time.

There is one major by-product of my yearning for control though and that’s rumination.

I’m not a fidgeter but boy, does my mind go ten to the dozen 24/7. That’s one of the ways my ADHD shows up for me.

And if I have a problem, a conundrum or something I believe needs ‘fixing’ then I will ruminate on it until the cows come home.

Whatever the situation is, it plays over and over in my head on a loop. Like an itch I’m trying to scratch but rarely actually getting the satisfaction.

What’s the point?

My mum is very aware of my tendency to overthink and if there is something that she knows I’ll quite evidently stew over she’ll say something like “just put it out of your mind, don’t even think about it yet.”

Hilarious! Yeh I’ll just decide to not think about it.

Fellow ruminators will know it’s not that easy.

My mum is an absolute pro at compartmentalising. It’s a skill I’ve often envied but in later years I’ve wondered if that’s her own coping strategy. A way to push away uncomfortable thoughts and feelings. We all have our ‘thing’ don’t we.

Ruminating on logistics

When I first started meditating 10+ years ago it became very evident that a large proportion of the thoughts that go on in my head are related to logistics. I’d sit there focusing on my breath, watching the thoughts come and go without getting drawn into them.

Except I’d regularly get drawn into them and still do.

Trying to solve logistical problems, whether related to my personal life or work, is a real theme for me.

I think it gives a perfect opportunity for rumination with the glimmer of a ‘reward’ for solving the puzzle and coming up with a solution (sometimes).

I wonder if there is also something about processing speeds too which can be a challenge with my ADHD. I won’t figure it out when I’m sitting at my desk but 24 hours later in the shower and ding, problem solved.

Since becoming a mum and especially now I have two children the mental load is very heightened. All the childcare and school related logistics dominate my headspace.

Obviously this is what it is and is something most, if not all, parents contend with on some level but it’s the bigger logistical arrangements and decisions that really get me.

The complex web of childcare for my toddler

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - I like to make things difficult for myself. Maybe that’s because ruminating, dressed up as problem solving, is my drug of choice.

My son goes to a childminder but of course she is 20 minutes away by car.

It’s not really doable for the whole week so in January he also started a very nearby nursery which has been much easier on the logistics front, but also comes with some ‘cons’. I won’t bore you with those…

I was chatting to another mum at a school party a few months back and she mentioned she was thinking of sending her toddler to the pre-school which is round the corner from my daughter’s school.

It really piqued my interest. I loved the sound of it and it aligned with my values and personal priorities around childcare. Downsides were that it was term-time only and the opening hours mirrored the school.

This is where I have a tendency to get ahead of myself and imagine a totally glorified version of how this set-up would look in practice.

Easy - I’ll drop both children and pick them up at the same time. I can make that work during my working day. They can just play or watch TV for the last hour of work.

I mean, what was I thinking? Have I even met my son? I can barely send a quick What’sApp message in his presence.

The set up really did appeal for all kinds of reasons and with hindsight, I can see that I was romanticising the whole set-up, without taking into account my own needs when it comes to how I am able to function when working (without distraction, in a nutshell).

I spent the next few months wasting so many hours trying to solve the puzzle of how to make it work. I came up with a number of versions of how the working week would look. Who would do which pick-up, what days he’d do pre-school, which days would be best for him to stay in nursery etc.

Honestly, the level of rumination about it was off the charts and that made my inner critic pipe up and tell me how weird and unhinged I was. Thanks again, inner critic.

I was so desperate to gain clarity and control over the situation and was sure that sooner or later I’d land on the ideal set-up.

The answer came to me in my sleep

So, after much deliberation I woke up one day and just knew I had to defer his pre-school place for a year.

Other than having a particularly draining week that week I couldn’t really tell you what changed. Maybe I exhausted myself with all the unproductive incessant thinking?

And how did I feel when I reached this conclusion? I felt peaceful and relieved.

I was also a little sad because I was having to admit to myself that the set-up just didn’t match where we’re all at right now, especially me in terms of my personal capacity.

Something was just telling me I need to take the easiest option.

People often give me this advice and I rarely take it as I seem to be so addicted to the struggle. But, with this situation I really did have to take the easy route.

I wonder too if this conclusion came as a result of the self-compassion work I’ve been doing lately. I’d like to think so.

A valuable lesson

I think one of two things happened here.

Either my intuition, for whatever reason, was finally able to come through, perhaps as a result of admitting defeat after a hard week and being able to acknowledge my needs (i.e. to make things simple) or the solution came from elsewhere.

Stay with me…

I’m quite a spiritual person and often have a sense of being guided and of there being greater forces at work. When I’m in rumination and controlling mode this connection to something greater feels less accessible.

Some ways in which I gain access to ‘something greater’ are through meditation, being in nature, being truly present with the people I love, through non-religious prayer and by practising gratitude.

All of these things feel out of reach when I’m tangled up in my thinking mind.

This sudden knowing was a reminder that I would feel great relief if I was able to lean more fully into these things and learn to trust that things work out.

The constant controlling and pushing does not make that happen, it just takes away my peace.

I’ll come back with more on this…

This need for control and certainty is something I’d like to get more of a handle on. It feels like such a waste of energy and when this precious resource is in short supply I can’t afford the extra spoons spent on these rumination fests.

I know how I can lean more into self-trust and I’m working on this as we speak so will share more of this soon.

Does any of this resonate? How do you interrupt your impulses to control or have you reached a place of surrender?! If the latter, do let me know your secret!

Leave a comment

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

P.S. The theme of control crops up in these posts too, if you fancy a read.

When my daughter was about a year old I remember saying to a friend, who was pregnant with her first baby, to take the stories (and unsolicited advice) shared by other mums with a pinch of salt because challenges in parenthood are so varied from person to person. An aspect of parenting which I breeze through could break someone else, and vice versa.

I think I’ve always felt compelled to tell pregnant people this because I felt ‘weird’ for some of the things I struggled with in the early days of motherhood. Things that should be easy, weren’t.

Pre motherhood my inner critic was quite a force to be reckoned with and, in motherhood, I’d say she ramped up a gear.

I’d felt like a faulty human in certain areas of life and now in motherhood, the thing which I’d told myself was going to be the one thing I’m good at, I was struggling with some really random stuff.

Early motherhood is yet another life stage I’ve re-analysed through the lens of my later-in-life diagnosis of neurodivergence and with that comes the comforting reassurance that I’m not a faulty human, or a faulty mother.

So, after a bit of pondering on this I thought I’d share some of the things I struggled with in the early days/months in case there are new mums out there feeling ‘weird’ for their struggles.

Breastfeeding was clumsy and awkward

“It’s the easiest thing in the world.”

This was my mum’s hot take on breastfeeding.

I can confirm it was not the easiest thing in the world - not for me, at least.

I had friends who, like my mum, breezed through it and made it look incredibly easy.

Why then, did it feel so hard for me?

I think it was something about the co-ordination of it all. And sensory issues came into it as well, especially when in public and trying to co-ordinate my clothes, my bra, my boobs…

Ugh that feeling of getting all hot and bothered and fumbling about with a crying baby desperate for a feed. I felt on the verge of panic in some of those moments with my inner critic saying -

“Why are you freaking out so much? This should be the most natural thing in the world! What is wrong with you?!”

Side note: it was my breastfeeding challenges that made me question if I may also be dyspraxic.

There just seemed to be too many variables to co-ordinate to make it a sustainable way to feed my babies.

It felt far too stressful and the furthest thing from easy I could possibly imagine. I even had a lactation consultant come to the house second time around, when my son was a few days old, but even with her expert guidance, it just never fully clicked.

I had nights crying on the sofa with my son screaming because he just wanted some milk, poor guy.

I have an awful memory of trying to breastfeed him on a park bench because I forgot to pack some formula. Rookie error. I felt like such a tit (excuse the pun).

We combination fed with my son - and because I like to make things as hard as possible I was breastfeeding (or trying to) and bottle feeding with both formula and breast milk. This triple feeding situation was too much for someone that loves and needs simplicity.

Not to mention the level of basic executive functioning needed to figure out all the parts of the bloody pump and sort the sterilising and all that jazz. It felt hard, especially when sleep deprived.

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Morning chaos & executive dysfunction

The mornings were so hard in the early days after having my son. My husband left for work at 6am and I’d be doing all the modes of feeding the baby and getting myself and both children ready, to get my daughter to pre-school.

I felt so foggy and sleep deprived that I just couldn’t get myself into gear to get it all done successfully.

Of course I managed it every day without fail because I’ve spent my life learning ways to tackle my struggles but it took a lot from me. I didn’t even attempt baby classes or much socialising as ‘the basics’ took everything from me. No spoons left by 9am.

I remember taking this photo one day after taking a moment to realise how bloody hard these mornings were and wanting to document that I was getting through it with a smile on my face (some days).

And the inner voice pipes up again -

“But now is your time to have the maternity leave that was taken from you last time, in lockdown. Make the most of it.”

Luckily I was able to lean on my journaling practice during my second maternity leave and learnt to go easy on myself and accept that prioritising survival felt like the right thing to do.

Now I’m reflecting, this is good progress from the unhealthy, over-productive and controlling patterns I fell into first time around, which I’ll come onto…

Reflux - a Puzzle to Solve

My daughter, who is my first born, had terrible reflux.

If you’ve had a baby with reflux you will know how hard it is. Not just the baby sick, literally everywhere, but the crying. So much crying. So loud. So intense.

What was really hard was that I was so convinced she was in terrible pain. I could almost feel her pain and would have done anything to take it away.

A few months back I stumbled across my phone notes from that time. I was logging everything. Every bout of crying and episodes of sickness and trying to find some kind of pattern in it all.

I was absolutely desperate to find a pattern and piece together clues as to what was going on.

Of course, there was no real pattern. It was just another way my brain was trying to seek some kind of order and control at a time when it felt like my life had been turned upside down.

And how bloody ungrateful was I? I had waited years for this, even going through IVF, and now my dream had come true and I had the audacity to be yearning for my previous life, rich with order and routine, just how I liked (and needed) it.

My inner critic can be so brutal.

Of course these feelings were reserved for the really tough moments. Crying in the shower, drowning out the noise of my screaming baby as my husband paced around our flat with her.

I was wracking my brain as to how we were going to ‘fix’ the reflux and achieve some harmony. I was so desperate for it.

The Need for Order…and the Sheer Lack of it

This became such a theme of early motherhood, with my first born.

The need for control was also probably heightened due to it being the height of the pandemic. But lockdown or no lockdown, I know I would have still been striving for order but, funnily enough, it’s not something that’s very achievable during the newborn days.

Looking back, I think there were signs that I wasn’t coping very well.

Waking up one day before my daughter and instead of using the time to relax after a night of feeding, I got my laptop out and started putting together a spreadsheet of family meals to ‘make life run smoother’.

I was also obsessed with naps. I would lie in the bath most nights watching YouTube videos of baby routines and would tweak timings and schedules in order to achieve ‘perfection’ - a day of well balanced naps and a decent chunk of night-time was a successful day in my eyes.

To give myself some grace, I didn’t have much else to think about as a new mum in lockdown but it’s evident now that the unpredictability that I’d been thrust into with this reflux-y baby made me feel unsafe and I was doing all I could to counteract that.

When I mentally take myself back to these difficult times I can feel those sensations of shame and awkwardness in my body. Why was I finding this stuff so hard? Where is the easy breezy earth mother I thought I’d be?

But when I feel these sensations, I’m remembering that time and how it felt but thankfully I can access compassion when I look at these times through the lens of ‘present day me’ who is lucky enough to have so much more self-awareness.

Learning of my neurodivergence has been transformative.

How sad would it be if I continued to look back on those early days feeling like a faulty mother? I’m so relieved that’s not the case.

This isn’t to say I no longer have struggles in motherhood. I don’t think any mother can say that. In fact, some current struggles feel even harder but the difference is that I know about my neurodivergence, and my tendencies to overcompensate and mask, and this kind of intel is vital - it preserves my mental health.

Noticing and naming my triggers opens up opportunities for seeking support and that’s huge. It also makes self-compassion feel accessible. The inner critic has piped down a little bit. She’s still there, and I still struggle, but the recovery is quicker and the shame doesn’t linger, so I’ll take that.

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

P.S If you know a new and/or neurodivergent mum who may benefit from reading this then please feel free to share.

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Here are some of my other motherhood related posts if you fancy a read 💜

My ADHD assessment felt messy. I was talking around the houses and couldn’t really pinpoint or successfully explain some of my ADHD traits. Probably because I’ve done such a stellar job of masking them my whole life.

I had a situation at work a while back that made me realise two things -

1. My digital organisation leaves a lot to be desired and is definitely a place my ADHD shows up.

2. I go to great lengths to mask my ADHD-ness at work

The Mishap

I had lost something that someone had sent me at work (it was sent on a Teams chat) so I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to find it with rising anxiety in my chest.

What if I was going to have to ‘own up’ to not saving it immediately and filing it away in an orderly manner so I could successfully access it when I needed to?

This was also off the back of me annoying the hell out of myself several times this particular morning for not finding things I’d saved.

Digital filing is not my strong point and, on reflection, it’s clearly one of the places my ADHD shows up. It isn’t something I think too much about, until of course it’s time to find something that a quick Ctrl + F won’t sort out.

I start berating myself for being so disorganised and useless.

I sit there with swirling thoughts about how ‘inept’ I am. This word always comes up in moments like this - my spiteful inner critic at it again.

I’m in a weird kind of paralysed state clicking in and out of folders and wasting a lot of time.

Time in which I could have sent a quick email to say, ‘Sorry, I didn’t save those attachments last week, any chance you could re-send please?’

In the end, I had no choice but to send that email and of course I made a meal of that too. Far too much faffing and re-wording - my forte!

I have no issue with accepting full responsibility in moments like this - in fact, I make a point of doing so.

I guess because I know all too well it’s my fault and I weirdly need the other person to know that too. A way of punishing myself further perhaps? It’s so messed up when I say it out loud.

What’s really mad is that the agro I’m putting on myself for this whole situation is far greater than the minor inconvenience for this person to resend what I misplaced. And strangely, I do know this.

And just for a laugh - guess what the reply was - ‘Yep, sure - here you go.’ Sent after about two minutes. LOL. I mean, you have to laugh don’t you?!

What’s Going on Here?

Is this about perfectionism? I can’t possibly be seen as anything other than perfect? Trying to keep up the facade of being organised and ‘on it’. The mask can’t slip, I can’t be found out.

Misplacing something someone sent to me is ‘such an ADHD thing to do’ and actually, in my work environment, it’s very unlike me because I work so hard at masking these things. It’s exhausting and quite frankly, I’m done with it.

I clearly feel shame for letting my ADHD show up and this scenario really was a bit of a wake up call.

And not a wake up call to get a system in place for my digital organisation. A wake up call to stop being so afraid of what people will think if they catch a glimpse of my ADHD traits.

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What if I Could Own It?

This example is just one of the many, many, many examples of when I’ve recently noticed myself trying to cover-up my ADHD-ness.

I think my reluctance to carry on doing this is mainly driven by simply not having the energy for this extra layer of effort.

You’ll know if you’ve read my last couple of posts, I’m a little lacking on the energy front right now…!

I’d also like to think that the self-compassion work I’ve been doing lately is starting to bear fruit.

I have ADHD - there are things I struggle with because my brain is wired differently. This isn’t my fault and I’m still a good person with many other qualities. Digital organisation not being one of them.

Unmasking With a Safe Person

Recently, I’ve noticed some instances in which I didn’t mask, but perhaps would have done previously. These weren’t in a work setting but were with my nearest and dearest.

The level of masking I do in all areas of life is becoming more and more apparent.

Due to my ADHD presentation being inattentive I can drift quite a bit during conversations which, at times, I can give myself a hard time about, especially when I genuinely want to be fully engaged. (This isn’t always the case mind you, being able to eject myself from a dull conversation is very handy at times!)

My sister was talking to me about something the other day and I realised I’d totally missed the whole beginning of what she was talking about.

Once upon a time I would have nodded along, which I’ve become adept at doing when I don’t have the foggiest what’s going on (like Joey in that episode of Friends) but this time I simply apologised and asked her to start again.

She’s my sister so, of course, this was met with a bit of an eye roll but still, good practice for me to unmask in this way.

Maybe next time I’ll even manage to do it without the apology!

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Self-acceptance in Action

There have been other situations like this. Each time I allow myself to be seen in all my neurodivergent glory, whilst also not getting lost in the shame of my ADHD traits being seen in the light of day, I’m practising the skill of self-acceptance.

It feels like important work to be doing.

And I’d not really joined the dots until writing this but since the work related example I opened with I’ve started to talk about ADHD at work and, along with a neurodivergent colleague, we’re starting a network for neurodivergent people in my team - in the hope to achieve some solidarity with others who are also navigating such challenges at work.

Bringing these types of examples into the light goes a long way to easing the feelings of shame.

It’s such an ingrained and strong instinct to hide my traits out of fear of rejection, criticism and judgment but every time I do this I’m allowing the shame to continue calling the shots. I don’t want to continue playing this game.

Wasting precious time trying to cover up and compensate is such a waste. What if time and energy were spent honing my talents rather than masking my challenges?

I can’t let myself go down the rabbit hole of ‘what if’ I’d spent my career doing this but I can start to make these changes now and that’s what I intend to do. But jeez, I will have wasted a sickening amount of time just trying to cover-up and that doesn’t feel great.

Please tell me it’s not just me who goes to great lengths and wastes precious time and energy trying to conceal ADHD traits? I’d love to hear if any of this resonates and how you’re overcoming such challenges.

Leave a comment

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

If you’re new here you may want to get up to speed with these posts…

Apologies up front that this is another post straight from the depths of my luteal phase.

If you read last week’s post you’ll know the waters can get a bit choppy for me around ovulation time and now, at time of writing, I’m nearing the end of my cycle so hello there, PMT.

Capacity on all fronts is at a drastic low, overwhelm is at a high and I am quite frankly hanging on for dear life.

Realising That Not Everything Can be Blamed on Hormones

I can’t pretend this current inner turmoil is solely down to hormones. I know it isn’t and actually, I think that’s making these couple of weeks even harder.

It feels tough coming to terms with the fact that I don’t think some of my current struggles will necessarily feel less intense when I get my period.

I think what’s happening is this…

My brain and my whole sense of being is in this weird in-betweeny phase.

I’m stuck in the messy middle between my prior life as an undiagnosed neurodivergent person and a future version of my life in which I will have a better grip on things and I’ll be able to live with more ease.

A life in which my needs are more fully met. A life that compliments my neurodivergent brain, rather than one that is full of friction points rubbing up against it.

I’m scared though. I’m petrified that this is a fantasy. I’m an optimist and a dreamer and I love these qualities in myself - but they can trip me up sometimes.

What if this is another way in which I’m conning myself into thinking ‘future me’ will be thriving?

I have to keep the faith though. Surely I do?

I have to hold onto some hope that things can feel easier.

Life Feels Hard Because it is Hard

I must remind myself of the facts.

I’m doing a hefty share of the childcare and home-related stuff due to the nature of my husband’s work and I work almost full time in a corporate job.

There are quite clearly aspects of this set-up that create tension, pressure and exhaustion. Throw into the mix disturbed nights and it feels brutal. Many parents are facing similar challenges and will know life can feel a real slog.

This is without the challenges that come about as a result of my neurodivergence and the hormone issues I spoke about last time and goodness knows what else may come up on a given week.

It is a lot and I do try to remind myself of that.

Self-Compassion Work Isn’t All Cosy Meditations Under My Blanket

My 8-week Mindful Self-Compassion Course is nearing an end and I’m so pleased I signed up to it. I’ve done a lot of this type of work for years but, as I’ve said before, it’s only really just clicking now, post ADHD diagnosis.

I have some really helpful new practices to add to my toolkit which I’m so grateful for and it’s also opened up more opportunities for reflection than what I had anticipated.

Each week our teacher reminds us of this very important question - What do I need?

Asking myself this question multiple times a week is shining a very bright spotlight on the fact that what I need and what feels accessible just aren’t marrying up right now.

This has been confronting and I’m still sitting with this and figuring out what it means for me and my life as I know it.

I Have to Meet Myself Where I’m at

I can’t magic myself several extra hours to nourish myself, it’s not feasible right now although I’m coming to terms with the reality that I think that is what I need.

I need to build in recovery time, processing time and proper rest.

If you’re neurodivergent yourself you don’t need me to tell you that the world is not set up for us and just simple day to day life can feel too much.

Something as simple as going round the supermarket with my toddler can feel like such a violent attack on my nervous system and senses - it’s just not worth it.

The context switching from working quietly at my desk to getting in the car, driving to school and chatting to other parents on the school run and then to shift back again to finish my work day, with my daughter asking me questions and demanding yet another snack is a lot.

The processing demands are really stacking up at this point in the day and it’s becoming glaringly apparent that if I don’t somehow manage my energy, come evening, I have no spoons left which to be honest, is the norm. My husband gets the absolute dregs of me.

If I get into minus spoons that’s often when when insomnia creeps in so I do have to be really careful.

Positive Changes on The Micro Level

The positive here is that, since my course, it is becoming more doable to weave in small practices that I know really serve me and crucially, without the guilt, or even the shame for not being able to ‘push through.’

Here are some of my these things:

✨The nap when I need it

✨The regular walks

✨Meditations & self-compassion practices

✨Journalling & writing

✨Reading and connecting on Substack (new favourite thing)

✨Connecting with friends

✨Tech-free time

✨Pottering (AKA tidying - it’s a way for me to self-soothe which I’m leaning into)

Let me tell you though, my inner critic really gives it her best shot to sabotage these efforts.

I’m realising that self-compassion sometimes has a bit more of a fiery feel to it. I’m learning to quiet my inner critic who is so used to pushing me to my limits and beyond. Quite frankly, she can do one!

But What About Changes on the Macro Level?

What is harder though is meeting my needs on the macro level.

I’d love to find a way to earn a living that doesn’t feel like such a continual onslaught on my nervous system. The emails, the Teams messages, the meetings. In isolation my work is fine but sandwiched in between ‘mum duties’ it feels too much right now.

I’m hanging in there and getting support but what this means longer term, I’m not sure.

Perhaps it’s a case of riding this wave with the children still so young, perhaps everything will start to feel easier without me having to do an awful lot? But then what’s the cost of waiting it out?

With bills to pay and mouths to feed it’s simply not a reality to focus solely on caring for myself and the children right now. This week I’ve noticed a real sadness about this. On weeks like this I feel like this is what I want, and I ask myself if it’s also what I need.

Or some version of this at least, perhaps with some glorious pockets of time to write here and start to make friends with that version of ‘future me’ who lives with more ease and alignment.

For now, I’ll focus on the micro and get creative about how I can reduce some of the friction that I feel so viscerally during my days and, in doing so, perhaps the struggles will ease, just enough to give me some oomph and clarity to make change on the macro level.

Or perhaps the Universe has other ideas and this is yet another lesson in loosening my grip and tempering the urgency to make change?

Who knows eh? I’ll share the journey regardless…

Are any of these feelings of not being where you were, but also not being where you’re headed, familiar to you? Let me know how that’s going for you. It really does help knowing I’m not alone with these uncomfortable feelings.

Leave a comment

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

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P.S. Here’s my earlier post on hormone chaos and another post sharing some more of the messiness that goes on in my brain.

If it wasn’t for my hormones starting to give me trouble I genuinely don’t think I’d even know I have ADHD. As is the case for so many women, the start of perimenopause can unmask ADHD and it can be a messy ride, as I know all too well.

Morning Chaos

Here’s a snapshot of a recent Thursday morning which, quite frankly, was the pits…

I started my day around 5.30 with the sound of my toddler crying for me from his cot. Believe it or not, 5.30 is actually a win in this household. I bring him in with me for cuddles but of course he’s having none of it so we head downstairs and put cartoons on for him whilst my brain gets in gear.

I notice I’m feeling really tired despite the ‘lie in’ and then remembered that the previous night I’d fallen asleep watching TV on the sofa at about 8pm.

With hindsight, what I should have done was take myself to bed at that point. Instead I faffed about on my phone and went to sleep just before 10pm which, for this particular season of life, is actually on the late side for me.

The Hugely Noticeable Mid-Cycle Shift

It’s around this time in my cycle (ovulation time) that I log a little acronym in my period tracker - FAOTS. Can you guess? It stands for ‘fell asleep on the sofa’ and it marks a very stark shift in my cycle. I’m also usually feeling quite crampy at this point.

My personal boundaries around things such as phone use really falter when I’m hormonal. I know scrolling is not good for me just before bed but whenever I have these FAOTS evenings I get well and truly sucked into my phone. It’s become a very predictable pattern.

Whilst sitting with my toddler at 5.35am on the sofa I was regretting my lack of self-discipline from the night before.

I was feeling sluggish, foggy and rather gloomy thinking about the day ahead. My last working day of the week and all I wanted to do was sit on the sofa all day (minus the cartoons).

Feeling this way is actually quite unlike me and that’s another tell-tale sign hormones are the culprit. Yes, I could have got an early night but that’s just it, when I’m hormonal, self-discipline is so much harder and it has a knock on effect to every other area of life.

I have a number of coping strategies to manage my ADHD - avoiding phone use before bed being one of them - because I know how quickly my chaotic brain can get fired up.

I also have routines in place to make the morning routine of getting the kids out the door run as smoothly as possible - for their sake and mine. I hate rushing.

However, it’s during these times of the month that maintaining these strategies feels so hard.

I’ve come to notice how there is so much less order in the house at these times as well. I look around at all the mess and it’s a direct reflection of the chaos in my brain.

During these periods of wild hormone fluctuations my ADHD traits are so much more obvious, both to me and others. The mask slips and I feel out of control. It’s like I’ve been put onto a rollercoaster with only a flimsy lap belt to keep me secure.

Back to the Morning Chaos

Back to that Thursday morning - the children were testing my patience for various reasons and it was nothing out of the ordinary but trying to get everyone fed and dressed, as well as myself, felt like an almighty feat.

The sensory overwhelm of the various cries and toddler tantrums were going right through me. I was getting increasingly hot and the anxiety I was feeling in my chest was getting close to unbearable.

My son needed his dummy for nursery as I was hoping he’d nap there and he won’t nap without it but could I find a single sodding dummy in the entire house? No I could not.

We were running late and I was searching the house high and low whilst barking orders to get shoes on and all the rest of it.

The Added Layer of Shame

There’s also another layer to all this. I really hate everyone starting the day like this. It doesn’t feel fair for anyone and of course, all I read about is not to rush your kids or you’ll make them anxious, a regulated mother will regulate her kids by default etc etc.

I know this stuff and really try to live by it but at times like this, it feels impossible, and therefore I feel I am failing them, and myself.

Thankfully I know that’s not the case and I can rationalise that this isn’t how our house is 24/7. Believe it or not, I’m learning to be more compassionate towards myself but it’s in these moments that the inner dialogue tells a very different story.

This is the kind of thing my inner critic was spouting and it’s all said with such viciousness:

• Why didn’t I get everything ready the night before? This is all my doing. Idiot!!

• Why can’t I cope?

• This is too much.

• Maybe I’m just not cut out for having children. Everyone deals with this stuff and doesn’t have a near panic attack in the process.

You get the idea - I was incredibly overwhelmed and emotionally flooded. If you’ve felt like this you’ll know how hideous it feels.

All I want to do is somehow hit eject from my body and the situation. It all feels far too much.

I dropped off my daughter, followed by my son (minus his dummy) and I got tearful in the car on the way home.

I’ve heard how helpful it can be to complete the stress cycle and crying is a good way to do this. I contemplated having a good cry because boy, did I need it and the tears were about to drop. I then realised I would not have time to fix my make-up before my first meeting so I held them back.

I was already late logging on for work (from home, thank god) and so didn’t give myself the pause I desperately needed. I knew I needed to reset with some deep breathing or meditation but went straight into my emails - my ‘good girl’ conditioning out in full force there!

Not Practicing What I Preach

Do you know what’s hilarious? I was due to be leading a mindfulness session at work that very morning. I’m an active member of my company’s mindfulness community and a colleague and I run monthly sessions.

It’s something I really enjoy but my god, did I feel like a fraud showing up for that session after the morning I’d had. The theme was around ‘the power of the pause’ and ‘reacting vs responding’ - LOL!!

In actual fact, that session was just what I needed. Leading a meditation helped to bring me down from my frenzied state and it was a small group and a safe space with like minded and supportive people so I was really upfront about feeling like a fraud on this particular day and it served as a good reminder (to myself more than anyone else) that we are all human.

We don’t always have it in us to respond mindfully to what life throws at us and I certainly don’t when my hormones are raging.

That session marked a notable shift in my day. I started to regulate and was able to focus and get through the working day, even though I was experiencing the knackering hangover from it all.

Time For Reflection

Having reflected on the dysregulation I’d experienced I reminded myself that the interplay between hormones and ADHD are incredibly evident. It’s ok to find that hard and I’m certainly not alone in that.

I also reminded myself that everyone, on some level, has things they find hard and it doesn’t make me a pathetic person to have these challenges, despite what I tell myself in the moment.

When I’m in the throes of dysregulation it can feel like it will last forever. I have to zoom out and remind myself that this isn’t how everyday looks for me (thank god).

Had those events played out on a day when I was more level hormone wise I wouldn’t have been emotionally flooded in the same way. I deal with hard parenting moments all the time and it doesn’t always feel as unbearable.

It also encouraged me to book in with my GP again. I think I need more hormonal support and this was a wake-up call.

I know all the things that support me - meditation, a daily walk, a healthy diet, connecting with friends, tech-free time, early nights. We all know the things don’t we?

But, when hormones are all over the place it makes doing these things feel impossible. Instead I’m sniffing out my next chocolate fix and numbing out in an Instagram reel rabbit hole.

Refusing to Accept This as my New Normal

These hormonal rollercoasters are quite unpredictable and the times in my cycle when I don’t feel hijacked are few and far between right now.

When I have other barriers such as my ADHD and white knuckling it through the early years with children, whilst working and running our lives, it’s important I give myself as much support as possible. The cost of not doing so is too great.

The Hormones I’m Currently Taking

For anyone interested, I’m currently taking micronised progesterone which is natural and body identical (rather than synthetic progesterone you’d get in the contraceptive pill which never agreed with me). I take it every night throughout my cycle and it’s massively helped the awful sleep + anxiety combo I was struggling with. I should add that this is ‘off license’ and not all GPs will prescribe this for use throughout the cycle.

I introduced estrogen for a while but wasn’t really noticing any benefit so I stopped. I think I should have given it a bit longer so I may give it another go. I’ll see what my GP thinks regarding next steps.

My fertility challenges taught me that it’s very important to advocate for yourself and do your homework when it comes to health and I’ve taken this learning into my perimenopause journey, which I’m sure is only just beginning - I’m buckling up for the ride.

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

P.S. I located a dummy and drove it to my son’s nursery on my lunch break because I felt like such a bad mum for losing it and for the morning I’d given everyone (there goes the inner critic again…)

I’m sure you’ve seen the 2016 trend online where people are sharing their photos from a decade ago and reflecting on ‘then’ and ‘now.’

Oh how I’d love to reflect on how the big goals I set in 2016 have come to fruition. Sadly that’s not the case.

2015 would be a good place to start

2015 was a big year - two weddings (to the same person!), a new corporate job and a diploma in Life Coaching Skills.

I was in a state of constant hyperfocus, chasing deadlines and dopamine hits from my wedding and study to-do lists. I was visualising my future life as a coach and well and truly loving life in 2015. It was the best.

Why Life Coaching?

I decided to do a Life Coaching course because I’ve spent my life drawn to the world of self-development, like a moth to a flame.

Even with what I’m about to share, I don’t for a minute regret taking that course. I learnt to actively listen, to hold space for others, to ask powerful questions and I gained a deeper understanding of how us humans operate.

It was also my introduction into modalities such as mindfulness and cognitive behavioural coaching. I loved learning about it all and would drive back from my monthly in-person practice sessions absolutely buzzing, visualising my future life as a coach. I had found ‘my thing.’ At last!

Introducing…The Bridal Coach

We learnt on the course about the importance of having ‘a niche’. Given I was planning my wedding in the second year of doing the course I was eating and breathing all things bridal. I was spending a lot of time in wedding related Facebook groups and reading ‘bridal dilemmas’ from stressed out brides and it was eye opening!

The fusion of my coaching study and my wedding planning gave me a lot of inspiration for social media content and in true ADHD style I hyperfocused on it and went full steam ahead ready to launch as a Bridal Coach once the wedding was done and I had my qualification.

I’m sorry that the picture below is dreadful quality. It was taken one night in our local bar when I’d finally got my website ready and fully set myself up as a Life Coach and Bridal Coach. All systems go!

When I started wondering whether to partake in the 2016 trend I found this photo. I was momentarily transported back to the feelings I had in that moment - all that hope and excitement for my future as a coach.

And the next moment all I could feel was a stomach churning sense of failure because none of that became reality.

Getting Sucked In

It was around this time that the self-development world was exploding. Loads of coaches popping up everywhere, the whole ‘side hustle’ and ‘girl boss’ thing was flooding my social feeds. I’d see other women in business totally nailing it and I would tell myself ‘that will be me.’

I joined a membership for women in business and was learning the blueprint for what a successful coach was trying my best to become that. I thought this is what I was supposed to do to ‘make it.’

Looking back I wonder if a lot of this was about performance. Was I holding onto a belief that simply being me wasn’t enough?

I told myself I had to do all the things. The networking, the social media, the PR for myself. This is how people get clients. I have to be visible online and I need to ‘hustle’. Ugh the word gives me shivers now. This kind of hard graft was surely going to make me a ‘success.’

I was getting some traction - I got coverage in some bridal magazines which was a highlight. From the outside, it looked like I was doing great but inside I was struggling to keep up with it all.

I was getting overly concerned with my follower count and channelling so much energy into social media that it left very little time for actually getting the clients and earning money.

I told myself I was laying the foundations and the rest would follow.

Striving of Another Kind

A major part of my ambition to work for myself was to have a career that could be flexible around family.

I think the reason for the urgency was that I already felt desperately behind career wise, playing the dreaded comparison game with my friends.

We started ‘trying’ in 2016 but it didn’t happen that year. Or the next, or the next, or the next. We welcomed our first child in 2020 after our second round of IVF.

The years of 2016 to 2020 were what I refer to as the ‘limbo’ years. The years of striving but not achieving. And in terms of my career I was performing at success but not actually achieving it. As you may imagine, this didn’t do great things for my self-worth.

During these years, from the outside, I probably looked like I was thriving. I think at times I thought I was. Each month that we didn’t get pregnant I’d console myself with the bonus of another month to work towards my career dreams.

The hustle was a great distraction. Until it wasn’t.

Giving Up The Fight

There came a time when the pain of trying and failing to get pregnant became too much and I was at capacity in every area of my life.

I was putting far too much pressure on myself. Taking on way too much in the name of ‘building my brand.’ Burnout was coming for me and I had to stop, I had no choice.

When the counsellor I was seeing at the time helped to nudge me towards a period of recovery and stillness after our first IVF cycle failed I finally had permission to stop. I had to take a back seat, it was all too much.

I can now see how intoxicating the striving for ‘success’ was for my ADHD brain.

The dopamine chasing of the recognition and outside validation. My family coming to watch me on stage at the National Wedding Show. At long last I can make my parents proud.

This yearning for ‘success’ was driven, in part, by the career false starts and periods of burnout in both TV and PR I’d had, pre-2016. I felt excited and hopeful that finally I was going to ‘be successful.’

But none of it was real. I was performing at ‘success’ whilst living out a double whammy of failure - failure to actually earn any money and failure to start a family.

And all while trying to hold down a day job which thankfully was bringing in some money.

It all got quite bleak.

You hear a lot about ‘surrendering’ when you’re going through fertility challenges. It can be one of the many things you feel you should be doing. I don’t know if I ever got to a place of surrender but I managed to put an end to the forceful energy that was driving my every move.

Mumpreneur? (🤮)

We’re incredibly lucky and became parents in 2020.

I’m not going to be as reductive as to say ‘and then I realised that’s what success actually means to me’ because that’s not it either.

Yes, motherhood feels incredibly meaningful but I didn’t feel that elusive ‘success’ I’d been striving for either. In truth, I’m still figuring out what ‘success’ actually means.

When I had my first child I fantasised about being ‘that mum’ who starts a business on maternity leave and never has to go back to work. I admire women who pull this off but I’m not one of them. Motherhood has been all-consuming and I’ve simply not had capacity beyond the basics and I’m at peace with that.

Or at least I thought I was until the bloody 2016 trend came around and I started to wonder how my life could look now if I’d stuck at it, pushed through, kept going and lived out my 2016 dreams.

It simply wasn’t doable for me. Certainly not at that time and I was going about it all wrong and none of it was compatible with my neurodivergent brain (not that I knew I had a neurodivergent brain back then…)

Knowing Myself

Ten years on from that hopeful 29 year old sipping Champagne (ok, let’s be real, Prosecco) thinking that her career was just beginning to present-day-me, pushing 40, I thankfully only feel a smidge of failure.

There’ve been times over the last few years where I’ve been in the depths of failure, career crisis, self-loathing and feeling broken. Feeling so capable and yet so incapable all at the same time. It’s very confusing.

I constantly skirt the edges of everything feeling too much which leads me to question how I will ever have the kind of career that I still yearn for and part of me does feel is possible. Am I deluded? Who knows…

I feel like I’m on the cusp of something again but I also feel scared. What if I get too hung up on the performance of it all, again? What if I fail, again? What if I can’t cope, again?

I have to remember though that this time around I have intel. As the wonderful Elizabeth Day tells us, ‘failure is data acquisition.’ She’s so right. And I have the massive advantage of knowing myself far more deeply now.

A New Lens to View Failure

My ADHD diagnosis has given me an element of understanding around my personal limits, rather than feeling pathetic for not coping.

People like to call neurodivergence a ‘superpower’ and elements can be but it can also be a major drawback.

I’ve learnt what my limits are the hard way. I’m still figuring this all out. I keep thinking about the ADHD assessor’s recommendation of an autism assessment. Have I been experiencing autistic burnout over and over in all the careers I’ve been trying on for size?

For years, I wore masks to fit into career landscapes that weren’t for me. Now, it’s time for something that actually feels real and sharing my process of unmasking here on Substack feels like a good place to start.

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

P.S. Here are few other posts touching on career…

I’m taking an 8-week Mindful Self-Compassion Course at the moment and the timing is excellent, off the back of my ADHD diagnosis in December.

Several years ago it became blatantly clear to me that self-compassion was something I really needed to work on. I became so acutely aware of the punishing nature of my inner critic but it’s only now, post ADHD diagnosis, that this self-work feels fully doable.

Many things have supported me over the years - my journaling, meditation, self-help books galore, coaching and therapy but without the awareness of my neurodivergence I don’t think these things have been able to truly hit the mark.

Becoming a detective in my own life and learning to understand myself, now that I know I’m neurodivergent, has been like being given a key that unlocks opportunity for true and meaningful acceptance and self-compassion and I think this is why I’m getting so much from my course. It’s all about timing.

Writing a Compassionate Letter to Myself

This week’s theme and exercise was writing a compassionate letter to ourselves which, quite frankly, I lapped up. This is my jam.

It’s what I’ve done in my journaling practice since I was child. Even on days when I’m spilling a load of jumbled mess and internal strife onto the page, nine times out of ten, my compassionate voice will come through eventually, if I write for long enough.

We did the exercise in class, on zoom, which sometimes I find hard when it comes to written exercises but something about writing a letter to myself (of which I have written many over the years) really clicks for me, so there was practically steam coming off my pen.

We were invited to write about a behaviour we’d like to change. I have a long list to choose from but the one that sprung to mind was catastrophising.

I think what worked so well for me with this exercise is that I had a very specific example of when I catastrophise and it shows up almost weekly.

The Sunday Spiral

Even before having children I’d seem to place a lot of pressure on Sundays. It’s the one day of the week my husband doesn’t work at all (he works Saturday mornings usually) so there feels a lot of pressure to ‘make the most of it.’

The thing is though, with it being the only day where there is another adult around to be with the children I often end up rushing about like a crazy person to get various things done or take a bit of time for myself, to write for instance.

Then there’s school homework, prepping for the week, feeding everyone, often a school party to attend. Yet, deep in my soul, what I would really love Sunday to be is a day to reset, be present with one another and actually have a moment to breathe.

I’ve had awareness of the kinds of phrases my internal critic spouts on pretty much every Sunday and it goes like this:

• There isn’t enough time

• I can’t cope with this

• It’s too much

• Why can’t I just get this all done without feeling so anxious and stressed?

What follows is my body reacting to this internal narration, which looks like:

• A tight chest

• That classic ADHD trait of feeling like I’m being powered by a motor - I’m doing everything at super sonic speed but doing it in such a way that I’m probably in a bit of a flap and doing a million things at once and feeling totally scattered in the process.

• Feeling hot and like I want to escape my body because the internal noise coupled with the actual noise of the whole family at home on Sunday feels LOUD and too much AKA sensory overwhelm.

The Added Layer of Suffering

And on top of all this is a whole other layer to it.

The shame of feeling like this when there is no tiger chasing me - there is no real threat.

This is just a bog standard Sunday. I tell myself that ‘normal’ people still get through all their chores and manage to have some nice family time because how hard can it be? What the hell is wrong with me?

Why do I always get like this? Why can I never relax on a Sunday which hilariously is the one thing I so desperately want and need to do?

Side note - words such as ‘always’ and ‘never’ coming into my internal narrative are telltale signs of catastrophisng and all-or-nothing thinking. I know this from my coaching training and from having Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) but having awareness is only part of being able to do something about it, I’ve found. I’ll share another time about how CBT didn’t quite hit the spot for me.

So you get the idea - it seems to be that Sundays are a day when I’m not very nice to myself. There’s a varying scale - some Sundays I’m ok and some are the pits. If I’m in the luteal phase of my cycle it’s the latter and the chances of actual self-combustion feel fairly high (IYKYK).

What Did my Inner Compassionate Voice Have to Say?

Over the years I’m sure I’ve journaled on my Sunday spirals before but the awareness of how ADHD plays such a part allows me to access true self-compassion.

The executive functioning issues are a major factor, as is the sensory overwhelm of a busy household and all that comes with that. And anxiety is clearly going to come hand in hand when I’ve gone through my life feeling like it’s me that’s the problem. I’ve felt faulty but not really understood how or why, until now.

When writing the letter to myself I thought about what I’d say to anyone else who also had the same challenges as a result of almost forty years of undiagnosed ADHD.

I was able to validate my feelings - of course this feels hard.

I could also acknowledge that every time the Sunday spiral happens I have a stress response and the coping strategies I reach for in the moment are an understandable reaction when things feel so hard.

These strategies may look like a glass of wine to take the edge off (which is actually quite rare now as it led to others issues like sleep disturbance), dopamine fixes like a quick dive into Instagram (which actually heightened the intensity of my scattered brain) or reaching for a more pleasurable sensory experience in the form of certain foods in order to try to counteract the sensory overload from the busy household.

In my compassionate letter I acknowledge that these coping strategies are a way of trying to keep me safe. I thank myself and then question how I can be gentler on myself in these hard moments.

I remind myself I’m safe and that it’s ok to need support and more time. It’s ok to ask my husband to take the kids out for a bit so I can blitz the chores, which actually feels so soothing to me when I can do it in peace and quiet.

It’s safe to slow everything down even though this feels totally at odds with what my mind and body feels it needs to do.

I tell myself that the irony is that I will achieve more when I’m not spinning out.

An analogy comes to mind of me being on a treadmill stuck at high speed with my arms and legs flailing, unable to get off (this actually happened once).

I muse over what would support me on Sundays. How to cut some corners and prioritise getting out in the world, into nature. Getting out of my head and into my body on family walks. Seeing a trip out with the family as a mini holiday to be present and free from the running commentary of how well, or badly, I’m managing to tick things off my list.

Writing this letter helped me lean into how I desperately want my Sundays to feel and helped me to see that I’m not a failure for finding this hard.

It did make me feel quite sad to think of all the Sundays gone by that have felt like being on that god damn treadmill though.

The Key to True Self-Compassion

I don’t think I’d be able to access this level of self-compassion if I was still living my life unaware I have ADHD. I’d be living most Sundays feeling like I’m failing at being a functioning human and feeling sadness and frustration that this is so far removed from how I want to be living.

So now, I’m learning to hold myself in these hard moments in a way that wasn’t possible before. Asking for support, lowering my standards regarding certain things, giving myself leeway and getting creative about what things are going to support me feels far more doable.

Even before writing this letter I’d started to notice a shift. The hard Sundays have become less, the inner voice has softened and this has undoubtedly been since realising I had ADHD.

Have you tried writing letters to yourself before? How does it feel? Have you managed to tap into a compassionate voice?

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Ways I’ve done this before that also works well for me is writing from the perspective of my older, wiser self. I imagine my eighty year old self looking back on present day me and wanting to help her. I’ve also written letters from my ‘higher self’ which may feel a bit too ‘out there’ for some but that’s been an interesting experience too.

There’s so much scope with exercises such as this, I have found, but it won’t be for everyone and we all need to find what works for us and the real learning here, for me, is that timing is everything.

Sometimes this work, in and of itself, leads to breakthroughs and sometimes we need external information or support to learn about ourselves, as was the case for me. One thing is for certain though, gaining this has made this type of exercise pack a way more powerful punch.

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

I like to think that most of my daily interactions come from a good place.

I genuinely want good things for others. I identify as both an Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) and an empath. If these terms are new to you I highly recommend a deep dive into the below episodes of one of my favourite podcasts:

10 Ways to Know if You are Highly Sensitive & How to Manifest It As Your Superpower

20 Signs That You Are An Empath

I’m also well aware of my shortcomings…

I’m possibly a little self involved at times (I mean, I have this whole Substack just talking about myself so maybe that’s a clue on that one). I can also get overexcited and interrupt people, and make things about myself, but I’m aware of that tendency and am working on it.

But also noticing it makes me on constant high alert from fear of ‘messing up’ so that’s not ideal.

Of course I have many other flaws and I think and hope I have decent self-awareness of these but I suppose what I’m trying to say is, I mean well. I really do.

Swerving Rejection as if My Life Depended on it

I’ve had the awareness for many years that the fear of being misunderstood is intense for me. I have more context around this now that I’ve learnt about Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD), in the context of ADHD.

If you are unfamiliar with this term I heard a good explanation on the ADHD Chatter podcast, from none other than the doctor who discovered RSD, Dr William (Bill) Dodson - here’s a snippet of the transcript:

I keep talking about all the penny drop moments that have happened since I started looking into ADHD and then going on to get my diagnosis and, at this point, I’m drowning in a mountain of pennies.

This week’s penny drop is that I’ve spent my life doing all I can to swerve that horrendous pain that comes about as a result of rejection or perceived rejection. It’s perceived rejection that is the real kicker for me.

I actually think I’ve been fairly lucky in terms of actual rejection. Mind you, it’s not down to luck I don’t imagine, it’s more likely down to the fact I’ve constructed my life in such a way that keeps me safe. No rejection for me, thanks.

But I sure as heck spend a silly amount of time analysing if I’m being rejected, judged or criticised. It’s such a woeful waste of time and headspace but as I’ve come to realise, it’s not as simple as turning off this part of my brain.

Learning about RSD has, at least, given me an element of understanding and self-compassion.

As a result of doing my utmost to avoid the sting of rejection I have become skilled at shape shifting and making myself be who I think people want me to be. I’m sure you know the kinds of behaviours I mean - the people-pleasing, perfectionism, over-working, putting in silly amounts of effort into just about every area of my life.

My hyper-vigilance around dodging rejection also entails playing over conversations, re-reading texts and emails a million times just in case I come over in a way other than what I intended.

When logic and brain wiring are at odds

Logically I know that if I did say something clumsily or worse, said something that caused offence or hurt, those that are close to me would give me some grace and would know I didn’t mean anything by it. It wouldn’t result in the immediate rejection of me as a person.

But my punishing inner critic can offer up another, far more dramatic story, which in turn, can lead to that all too familiar tightness in my chest.

It can feel intense.

This week, the 'worst’ happened - I was misunderstood

So why is this all front of mind for me this week?

I had my first experience of being misunderstood on Substack.

I had commented on someone’s note and someone responded to what I’d said and they totally misunderstood my point (ironic) and then went on to tell me their opinion which, funnily enough, was exactly the point I was initially making.

It’s possible - likely even - that I didn’t articulate myself very well but the feeling of being taken the wrong way stung. (The person had thought I was making a negative judgment about a scenario I shared, which I absolutely wasn’t.)

This kind of thing stays with me for hours. It lasted well into the following day, in fact. It’s like a brain worm that just keeps on wiggling about in there. I’ll be going about life and then bam, it’s wiggling away again.

I kept playing it over and feeling silly for ‘getting it wrong’ and then even sillier for my response to the comment. No way was I going to enter into any kind of public disagreement. Absolutely not. It felt far easier to just be a pushover, which is another character flaw of mine now I come to think of it.

I went with the ‘pacify approach’ to which they said ‘thanks for understanding’ which got my goat.

A part of me wondered if I should have stuck up for myself a little but the stakes were too high - no way was I going to risk being misunderstood again and therefore, in my mind, more rejection. No thank you very much!

All this was going on in my mind on a Sunday afternoon with the family and I didn’t breathe a word of it to my husband. Generally speaking, I’m an open book and like to get stuff off my chest but when I choose to keep it inside, that’s when I know I’m feeling shame.

I felt shameful for wording something in such a way that opened me up to criticism. How could I be so stupid?

I feel a bit pathetic to admit this got to me so much. Other people may not even bat an eyelid to something like this. It would be totally innocuous but this is what I deal with so I’m being brave and sharing it in the hope someone else may get it. If you experience RSD, I know you will get it.

Am I cut out for this?

After this experience I started to question whether it’s wise to put myself on the line like I seem to be doing on here. I’m talking very vulnerably and explaining the intricacies of my neurodivergent brain.

I often feel like a total alien in the way I respond to my internal translation of the ins and outs of life. Until, I get comments on and offline about how something I’ve said is relatable and then I soak in the common humanity of it all and it feels worthwhile.

That said, I’d do it without any kind of external validation as I genuinely find writing the best way to unpick my internal workings out but it’s nice to know I’m not an alien, every now and again.

But…

Inevitably there will be times when people misunderstand me. Of course there will.

There will be people who don’t believe ADHD (or RSD for that matter) is ‘a thing.’ There will also likely be people who don’t like me or who disagree with an opinion I hold and express.

I really want to find a way to be ok with this. I kind of have to if I intend to keep sharing here, which I really want to do.

Unwilling to Repeat Past Reactions

I used to share a lot on Instagram and during the depths of my infertility days I posted about keeping hope and then saw someone else I followed in the TTC (trying to conceive) Instagram community post about how unhelpful it is to talk about ‘hope’ in the context of trying for a baby. She may have even used the word ‘toxic’. She wasn’t responding to me and probably hadn’t even seen my post but it was enough to jolt me.

Well, that was it. I couldn’t share my experiences anymore. I couldn’t shake the feeling that ‘I’d got it wrong.’

But who said I’d got it wrong? I seem to have a knack of feeling like everyone else is right and I’m the one who’s put my foot in it somehow. But a few years on, and perhaps a little wiser and self-assured, I can see that one single person can’t speak on behalf of a community of people.

We may have had a shared experience (struggling to get pregnant) but that doesn’t mean we all find the same things helpful or unhelpful.

I really don’t want to let myself fall into this trap on Substack and flee the first time I feel like I’ve ‘got it wrong.’

What now? Not more rejection, please?

Perhaps there is a way in which, through understanding the impact of RSD, and my tendencies to avoid rejection at all costs, I can tentatively keep putting myself out there.

From what I gather there’s no magic bullet for RSD. Rejection and perceived rejection will potentially always sting but I’d like to think that perhaps the recovery gets a little quicker and easier?

What do you think? How does RSD show up for you, if at all?

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I must keep reminding myself that if I know what I mean, and I know I have good intentions when it comes to my interactions with others, I can’t go too far wrong.

By continuing to go about life ducking and dodging all these potential stings, I could be missing out and playing too small. I’m sure I am, in fact.

I see this as a process of belonging to myself more fully. Having belief in myself. Trusting myself.

I want to show up for myself and that’s why I won’t run for the hills this time, though if the trolls arrive, I will 100% be running for cover!

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

My first proper job was as a runner at a TV production company and I was soon promoted to Production Co-ordinator and that involved a lot of, you guessed it, co-ordinating.

Putting together call sheets for the crew, sorting the logistics, props, locations and that kind of thing.

I have a vivid memory of being in the loo one day and being so pumped up to get back to my desk. Something about the adrenaline of it all and the challenge of getting a plan together, often at very short notice, felt quite a buzz.

It wasn’t long though before this started to take too much out of me. It was a lot.

You see, there is something about being organised and creating order that I love. I can really indulge myself, such as spending far too long organising stuff that really doesn’t warrant the time or energy.

The confusing thing is that being organised is actually really quite hard for me.

It’s not something that comes easily and, now that I think of it, it feels like something I subconsciously feel ‘I have to conquer.’

If things don’t feel hard I feel like I’m doing it wrong. This may seem mad to some but it’s a really ingrained belief I’ve held for my whole life.

The Warning Signs Were There

I remember the day before I officially started work as a Production Co-ordinator I decided to get some practice for my new role and, whilst being sat up in bed with my laptop on a Sunday morning, I got planning for an upcoming social thing. Probably an evening out with a friend or something along those lines.

I flitted between googlemaps, TFL journey planner and god knows what else and scribbled down my plans. And guess what? It took me bloody ages!!

How were alarm bells not ringing at this point?!

I tell you why - because I was getting to create order which felt (and still feels) strangely intoxicating. Am I making myself sound really weird? Does anyone else relate to this?

I also got the added bonus of getting to try really hard at it and, in my brain, this somehow translated to ‘I must be doing something right.’

It really is a bit mad when I say it aloud (or write it down).

No prizes for guessing how that job ended up. Well actually, I did well because I’m also a high achiever. A few years back I found thank you cards from my various TV jobs and the words were so lovely. I’m pretty sure I was valued and that I did a pretty good job but, suffice to say, I ended up leaving that career path.

Overcompensating Becoming My Normal

But of course there was a cost to working so hard to perform well at something that didn’t come easily. (This is also how I approached my entire education).

I was in the office early and stayed late to maximise quiet time without too many other people there, so I could think clearly and actually get stuff done.

Other ADHD’ers may relate to that feeling of your brain being in ‘stuck mode’ when there’s too much sensory input going on around you. Is this what glitching is? I think I read something about that.

Now I know that needing this extra time and silence is down to my ADHD, rather than due to me being a faulty human, but I didn’t have a clue about any of that back then.

A Lack of Self-awareness Dressed up as Persistence

The executive functioning issues that come with ADHD account for why a lot of organisational based work (i.e. the whole job) didn’t come easily.

These reflections are making me realise something - I may struggle with certain things but my goodness do I persist.

No throwing in the towel because ‘it’s not for me.’ Oh no no no, I went on to do other jobs that require similar levels of organisation.

If I just try a little harder I will crack it because it’s surely me that’s the issue? Must keep going.

The Cost

I find it utterly fascinating that I seem to be drawn to these kinds of roles and environments. It’s like I have to prove to myself I can crack it, no matter what the cost.

I think I’ve hit burnout a couple of times at work and teetered on the edge many more. Thankfully I can now spot the signs and I’m now in a job which allows me to scratch the organisation itch but it’s not the entire role and that suits me quite well.

I had a stint recently where the organisation stuff, for various reasons, was taking up a huge chunk of my working hours and the very fast paced, admin-heavy nature of it started to remind me of these periods of time when work had felt really hard - and not in a good way.

The cost to my energy during periods like this is a lot and it’s only now that I have the knowledge of ADHD that I can accept that I don’t thrive in these environments where I have no space for anything other than constant organising/admin type work.

It is far too overwhelming and I don’t have the leeway to work long hours anymore. I have no buffer.

To think of the extra hours I’ve put into all kinds of work and life admin due to challenges resulting from ADHD is actually quite sad to think about - the ADHD tax is real.

At long last I’m able to see this quite clearly and am lucky enough to have a role which involves elements of work that I’m probably more naturally suited to, like creative problem solving project type work and coaching others.

Balance in my working life is now vitally important. Not just for my own wellbeing but to help me show up as my best self at work. It’s a shame it’s taken me to the age of almost 40 to realise this but there you go!

What if all parts of my work could feel easy?

One of my values is meaningful work and I don’t see this being limited to paid employment. It’s also the work involved with being a mum and running family life and our home. It’s the work I am doing here on Substack which feels so far removed from what I have counted as ‘work’ since I entered the workforce in my early twenties.

A bit like my somewhat faulty belief that if something doesn’t feel hard then I must be doing it wrong, I also hold the belief that if it feels easy then it’s not ‘hard work.’

In my current day job I notice I get consumed with the stuff that, when the volume of work is high, can feel like hard work (the organising stuff) and I don’t give myself enough time on the other parts of my role that come easily to me and probably add the most value and get me more recognition.

I’m clearly still addicted to the struggle in many ways but the recognition of this is a good place to start.

A Promise to Myself

Reflecting on all this has, as always, been incredibly helpful. I’m going to start taking notice of how my mind and body responds when I’m doing certain types of work.

When do my muscles seize up? When do I finish a day feeling totally and utterly drained?

When do I feel at ease and in flow? (right now!)

How can I invite more ease into my work and remind myself that just because it feels natural doesn’t make it of less value - arguably, it’s quite the opposite.

It doesn’t have to feel so hard. There is nothing to prove to myself anymore. And perhaps I’ll get to a point where I follow the ease and not the struggle. Wouldn’t that be lovely?

With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x

That post was cathartic and painful to write, in equal measure.

To some, it may seem a waste of emotional reserves to dig into the past. Yes, it can be draining and confronting but it can also be an incredibly powerful way to really get to know yourself and, with this knowledge, we can learn to be more purposeful with how we choose to do life.

And this is a pretty big deal.

Reading Back On My Post-Boarding School Diary

I breathed a sigh of relief when I read the opening pages of my diary from my first term at university.

My teenage years did have a happy ending after all, following all the angst I experienced at boarding school.

But it didn’t happen by accident.

You can imagine the tears that flowed reading this can’t you? Mainly because my intuition was exactly right. These friends are still such close friends, over twenty years on. Had I let the fear and negative thoughts take hold, like they did when I was at boarding school, I don’t think I’d be saying the same thing.

It’s a bit like that Cherokee legend about the two wolves. For me, the ‘evil’ wolf represented fear, anxiety and self-doubt and the ‘good’ wolf represented self-trust and faith. This time, I chose to feed the latter.

My Game Plan

There must be an element of luck (or perhaps fate) involved. The first girls I met in my corridor had things in common with me. We all had boyfriends so that was a good start.

I arrived there on day one with the intention to be open because I knew the pain that comes from being closed. I couldn’t do that all over again. My heart had to be open this time.

From day one I made a concerted effort to be as ‘myself’ as possible. I think I went a little too far at first and went for the exaggerated version of myself which I referenced last time - the wild version that was let out of her cage at weekends. But with the safety that these wonderful new friends gave me I could let them see all parts of me as time went on.

All this has got me thinking about what version of myself I show to the world and it brings me back to my opening questions at the top of last week’s post…

When do I mask? When don’t I mask? Who the frick am I without the mask?

Upon starting university, I purposefully decided to show my uninhibited self. Not the version of me that feels a bit scared and exposed to judgment. I have to say though that alcohol played a role, but that’s a whole other post entirely and one I’ll do another day perhaps…

Am I ever not masking in social settings?

I guess I was wearing a mask of sorts in those early days. As I said, I learnt to settle into myself but I did probably arrive as a bit of a caricature of myself initially.

It felt like it was taking a lot of energy and a lot of work at first.

I am not sure I know how to not to armour up with a mask in social settings.

I really envy people who can consistently show up as themselves for all occasions - my husband is one of these people. He never overthinks this stuff and just shows up as himself and couldn’t care less what people think. How freeing that must feel!

Unless I’m with my nearest and dearest I always have some kind of thought process around ‘how I’m going to be’ around other people, especially if I don’t know them well. Is this what everyone does? Is it a neurodivergent thing? I am far too preoccupied by how I come across.

I was having a coaching session once and my coach said this kind of fixation is a form of control, which makes sense. I love me a bit of a control so why not extend this to my interactions with others…

The Role of Childhood Conditioning

As a child I learnt how to ‘show up’ and get on with things even when it felt hard.

I couldn’t possibly ‘let someone down’ by not going to their birthday party when I was overcome with anxiety. I learnt to override the tricky feelings. And the telling line in my diary excerpt - ‘get rid of the negative thoughts.’

My older, wiser self now knows that ‘getting rid of negative thoughts’ isn’t the goal. My mindfulness study has taught me lessons in all this. Acknowledge the thoughts non-judgmentally, let them pass blah blah blah. But I didn’t have this insight at the age of eighteen.

Shutting out the negative and putting a brave face on it was the way to ‘do life.’ And in so many ways this ‘get on and do it’ approach has served me well.

I do think there’s something to be said for noticing how hard things can feel yet also recognising what we’re saying ‘no’ to if we don’t push ourselves, just a little. In this context, if I’d fed the ‘evil’ wolf I could have been saying ‘no’ to lifelong friendships.

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What I Gained

In this example of going to university, I wonder if the temporary ‘mask’ (the caricature of the fun, outgoing side of myself) acted as a short-term gateway to something that turned out to be rather wonderful?

To be able to slowly take off the mask, soften my edges, be vulnerable and connect on a true and authentic level. There’s no denying that this approach helped me forge friendships that have stood the test of time.

All Conditions Had to Be Right

These two questions came to mind when I read my 2004 diary:

1) What stopped me from going into myself like I did at boarding school?

2) What allowed me to take off the protective mask and show myself to these new people?

The answer - I felt safe.

It was the people. These girls felt like home to me from so early on.

And sometimes there are no words to really explain this stuff. Sometimes it feels like something deeper. It’s a feeling we get when we meet someone that can’t be explained. We just know they are our people.

And I guess this is just it. So much of it comes down to the environment. There is nothing wrong with neurodivergent people. It’s the world we find ourselves in at times that can feel really jarring. Some environments are just simply too much, such as my boarding school.

Until very recently I didn’t realise this. I thought it was me that wasn’t enough.

Something aligned for me when I found it in myself to give the ‘moving away from home’ thing another go and the Universe well and truly delivered for me - a wonderful environment and people who felt safe. How lucky am I?

And do you know what? I’m so glad my eighteen year old self could feel proud of myself for tackling university in the way I did , especially after the trauma I experienced (and yes, I class those boarding school experiences as ‘little t’ trauma). It did take a lot to be brave and leave for university but my god, so worthwhile.

Where I’m at Now

Social masking is still a thing for me. I despise small talk. I feel awkward and either clam up and can’t think of a single thing to say or I can’t stop talking about god knows what. No happy medium.

Writing this has made me realise that the whole masking topic is so nuanced and entirely unique to each person. I think social masking is going to be something I always do to an extent but I think I’ve got better at noticing when it’s safe to slowly unmask.

I’ve also got better at not forcing myself to expend crazy amounts of energy masking to fit into situations that don’t feel right for me. I can opt out without too much self-judgment, so that’s progress.

There’s often no rhyme or reason as to which people make me feel safe and those that don’t. But one thing that writing these last two posts has helped me see is that it’s not me that needs to change to fit the environment.

One thing I know with certainty is that if you give me the right environment and the right people I will unmask and be unapologetically me. I just can’t give you a formula for what this looks like as it’s an inner knowing I can’t put my finger on.

I’d love to hear if any of this resonated? Do you notice yourself masking in social settings? Do you have the running commentary of self judgement?

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With love and lots of gratitude for reading my words,

Georgina x