What does it actually feel like to live with ADHD and autism day to day? Not in clinical terms, but in the small, specific, ordinary moments – the morning alarm that needs to go off four times, the lunch that gets forgotten, the meeting that leaves you quietly exhausted in a way that is hard to explain to anyone else.
Michelle knows that feeling well. A counsellor and creative professional, she received her diagnoses as an adult – a process she describes as transformational, and one that finally made sense of a lifetime of experiences she had never quite been able to name.
In this conversation, she talks openly about the routines that keep her grounded, the hyperfocus that means she sometimes needs a sticky note on the front door just to remind herself to eat, and the simple things – smelling her tomato plant, watching the sky, feeling hot water in the shower – that bring her back to herself when the day gets too loud.
She also talks about masking, about diagnosis, and about what it means to stop editing yourself and start understanding yourself instead.
It is a warm, honest conversation – we hope you will find something in it useful!
Morning routines and structure
Michelle:
I think the artistic part of me needs routine, structure, consistency, familiarity and certainty. Before I even get out of bed in the morning, as soon as I wake up, I follow a set routine.
I set my alarm in a specific way so that it goes off every 15 minutes. It needs to happen between three and four times to give me a chance to properly wake up. Once I’m awake, I take my phone and do a five-minute breathing exercise.
I do that because it helps me start my day in a way I know is good for me. I deliberately don’t scroll on my phone. Instead, I open an app that measures your breath and heart coherence, heart rate variability. I breathe for five minutes with my finger on the phone camera, which picks up my pulse and gives feedback on how coherent my breathing is. That gives me a sense of how I’m starting the day, whether my breathing feels settled or a bit short.
After that, I drink a glass of water because I know how important hydration is. I don’t want these things to feel like rigid rules though. I just do them automatically, without overthinking them, because I know they support my wellbeing.
If I did overthink it, the ADHD part of me would feel trapped, like these are all the things I have to do. So instead, they’re just small habits I do before getting out of bed. By the time I stand up, I’ve had water, done my breathing, and taken any medication I need.
Then I move through the next steps in a specific order. I go downstairs, let the dogs out, and make my breakfast. It’s always the same, three Weetabix, the same spoon and the same amount of milk. I think that’s the autistic part of me needing routine and the reassurance of knowing exactly what’s coming next.
There’s a real comfort in that. So much in the world feels unpredictable and constantly changing, so having those small consistent moments matters.
Another thing I do in the morning is practise gratitude in small ways. When I step into the shower and feel the hot water on my skin, I’ll pause and savour that moment. I’ll stand there and consciously appreciate it, because I know there are places in the world where something as simple as hot running water is a luxury.
It’s a small moment, but it helps me start the day grounded.
When during the day do you feel most focused?
Michelle:
Definitely first thing in the morning. That’s when I’ll open my diary. I keep everything written in a handwritten diary, and then I get straight into work.
The difficulty is actually stopping. When I hyperfocus, I can just keep going. I won’t realise I haven’t had a drink, that I’ve needed the toilet for two hours, or that I’ve skipped lunch.
To help with that I set timers, or leave myself little notes. Sometimes I’ll even stick a note on the front door saying, “Michelle, if you’re reading this, that’s because you need to take X, Y and Z!” It’s like leaving reminders for myself in the environment.
My energy is strongest in the morning, but by about half three or four in the afternoon I’m usually really depleted. My body is tired but my mind still wants to keep achieving things, so I end up working against myself a bit.
Are there particular types of tasks that drain you more than others?
Michelle:
My brain is absolutely interest driven. When I’m doing something I believe in and feel a sense of conviction about a sense of ‘this is what I was born to do’, I’m completely all in.
But if I’m asked to do something like writing a formal report on demand, my brain can freeze. Honestly, it’s like someone has put a block in front of me. Suddenly I feel like I don’t know how to do it, or like I shouldn’t even have this job.
All the competence and knowledge I have just disappears somewhere. The procrastination, worry and dread are huge. It’s hard for people to understand unless they’ve experienced that feeling.
It’s almost like being forced onto an aeroplane when you’re terrified of flying. You still have to do it, but every part of you is resisting.
Do you ever feel like you have to mask that internally?
Michelle:
Absolutely. In professional settings there’s often an expectation of what professionalism looks like, and I feel like I have to fit into that mould.
Inside, my experience might be completely different. Outwardly, though, I present as calm. I’ve been told that I appear very composed.
Growing up I often heard messages like, “You’re being overdramatic, Michelle,” or “You’re talking too much,” or “Your reaction is exaggerated.” Over time you internalise that and start editing yourself.
Instead of speaking freely or sharing everything I’m thinking, I try to condense it into a more controlled version. Sometimes sitting through structured meetings where there’s no emotional connection feels exhausting.
Are there environmental adjustments that help you day to day?
Michelle:
Noise is a big one for me. I really struggle to work in noisy environments because it feels like every voice is competing in my head. I can’t hear my own thoughts.
If I’m in an office with other people, I’ll wear earphones just to reduce the noise slightly. Luckily I’m able to work from home quite often, and when I’m counselling I’m in a room alone with a client.
Lighting also matters. I need soft lighting because fluorescent lights feel like they’re pressing on the back of my eyes and can give me headaches.
I also need my workspace to be tidy. If my environment is messy, my mind feels messy too. When I’m working on different projects, I’ll tidy one away into a folder before bringing another out.
If I notice papers everywhere, that’s usually a sign that I’m feeling overwhelmed. At that point I need to stop and reset.
Sometimes I’ll step outside and look at the sky or smell the fresh air. It might sound strange, but I even smell my tomato plant sometimes. The scent is lovely. Being close to something living and natural helps bring me back to the present moment. It interrupts the pressure I might be putting on myself.
At the end of a full day, what helps you unwind?
Michelle:
My biggest challenge is stopping work. Usually something external helps, like the dogs staring at me , saying ‘feed me!’, or going down to my horses. There’s external tasks where something needs my time and my attention.
Transitions between tasks can be difficult too. If I stop working and then go to cook dinner, I’ll often spend about twenty minutes drifting around first. That’s my transition time between tasks.
One thing I really enjoy for relaxing is paint by numbers for adults. I’ll sit in the kitchen listening to a podcast while painting. My brain doesn’t really switch off, so listening to something while doing a repetitive activity works well.
I’m really interested in topics like consciousness, philosophy and even UFOs or esoteric subjects. So I’ll listen to podcasts about those things while painting.
Paint by numbers is wonderful because you’re working with colours and creating something beautiful, but everything is already structured for you. You simply follow the numbers and colour inside the lines. It’s relaxing and satisfying, and it feels like something I’m doing purely for myself.
Looking back, what did receiving your diagnosis mean for you?
Michelle:
Honestly, it was transformational.
School was extremely difficult for me. I struggled with exams and always felt like there was something fundamentally wrong with me. When I was diagnosed with dyslexia, it was a huge moment. Suddenly things started to make sense.
Later I went through assessments for autism and ADHD. That process was incredibly vulnerable. Even while being assessed, I kept questioning myself. Am I making this up? Am I exaggerating?
There was a lot of shame tied up in my experiences. I didn’t realise how deeply those feelings were connected to being neurodivergent.
Through the assessment process and therapy, it felt like light bulbs switching on. Learning about neurodiversity helped me validate my own experiences.
Interestingly, after my diagnosis my traits felt more visible. My ability to mask seemed to crack. Masking isn’t something I consciously choose. It’s more like a survival mechanism for navigating a world that sometimes feels confusing.
Finding belonging
One of the hardest parts of being neurodivergent can be the feeling that you don’t quite belong. You might look around and think everyone else understands something you don’t.
That can create a sense of loneliness.
But over time I’ve realised something important. We’re not broken. Our brains simply work differently, and that means we experience the world differently too.
When you find environments and people who allow you to be yourself, whether that’s being creative, spontaneous, emotional or deeply caring, those qualities become strengths.
They bring life into a room.
And that’s something worth celebrating.
