Neurotic Self Care: A Single ADHD Mom's Guide To Time Management

On scheduling, balance, and please don't actually follow any of my suggestions

This is false advertising. I cannot promise you peace or balance.

When I got a divorce, I stopped being able to relax. I know it sounds like a first world problem, but it was kind of shocking to me. More than one massage therapist has complimented my ability to relax as though it were a rarely encountered superpower. I like to imagine the moment their hands touched my skin, my brain sent a “whoosh!” signal and my entire body just drained of stress. I was born with an innate joie de vivre—I love living. I’m an apologetic hedonist, a daydreamer, a pleasure seeker.

And suddenly, I couldn’t even read a goddamn novel. I have barely listened to a single podcast in 15 months. I play the same carefully curated playlist over and over. I went to the movies for the first time in a year last week (The new Beetlejuice movie, so good!). I hardly watch any TV, ever, unless I’m with one of my girls and it’s “our show,” which also sort of checks the box of “momming time,” even though I enjoy it.

Again, this is hardly a serious problem, but it signaled a major disruption to my nervous system, which had been in semi-perma fight or flight mode for months. If my nervous system hadn’t always been too nervous for the system, it was fucked now. I sailed through my days on caffeine and cortisol.

I mentioned in last week’s column, Women Running Barefoot, that I had a huge panic attack/meltdown/existential crisis (you know, just another Sunday, NBD (that means no big deal, Mom)), and the week sort of spiraled off that slightly unhinged energy. I have never, ever worked so many hours in my life. I have my hand in too many pots, undoubtedly—balls are in the air and plates are spinning and metaphors are mixing, but I can’t stop. I really can’t.

This is not a case of “I’m on too many PTA committees and need to practice the art of saying no.” This is a case of, “I am now a single mom who has been self-employed and working mostly part-time for 18 years, and shit is getting real.” I am running workshops and producing shows, taking on new voice students and coaching writers and trying to sell a memoir. It’s a lot, but I can’t put it down. Because this is what I need to do to take care of my family.

I can’t say no. Well, I do say no, a lot, actually: to getting enough sleep, exercising, cleaning the house, staying on top of laundry, meeting friends for lunch, and cleaning all the closets. It’s no surprise that relaxation by way of leisure activities hasn’t been making the cut. And that lamentation is some middle-class white lady shit.

I feel my privilege keenly: Making sure I can pay the bills and support my children emotionally is now my primary—often singular—focus, and for many mothers, that has always been their bottom line, anything else a luxury. This realization fills me with shame; for many years, I was able to work only part-time and I prized work-life balance and self-care. It is only in this wild new season that I have felt the intensity of full-time work without the support of a partner.

I still prioritize self-care—I know that without it, I am absolutely going down. But my self-care during crisis season has become quite frenetic and almost absurdly conducted. My friend and former LTYM co-producer

Megan Vos

—who has a fantastic Substack you simply must read—and I coined the term “neurotic self care.” Relaxing is just another line item on the illegible, unattainable to-do list. It could not be less organic or Zen—it was one more box to check off so hard you tear the paper with the pencil clutched in your uptight death grip.

I thought of our pet phrase a few nights ago as I was frantically completing my super mindful “reflecting on the day” journal entry where I can visually note what I accomplished, how balanced my day was, what I ate, how I felt. . . I congratulated myself mentally on my achievements, like with my actual inner voice, “I’m so proud of you! Look what you did! You’re doing amazing!” and then I forced myself to read literally five minutes of a mystery novel and then congratulated myself on that, too. I mean. WHAT.

When we originally dreamed up “neurotic self care,” it was both comedic and sadly true. “Meditated for five minutes! Got a pedicure! Read ten pages of a poetry book! Binged two hours of Gilmore Girls! #neuroticselfcare”

It may be laughable, but if my self-care isn’t neurotic these days, it’s not going to happen. There will be no low-key stumbling into an impromptu full moon ritual; I won’t decide to take a work break and finish that episode of The Bear I’ve been trying to watch for three weeks. I will not find myself trying to fill time with something luxurious or enjoyable; not right now, at least.

But I know that if I’m not occasionally spending a weekend day relaxing and not doing housework or work-work, I’m going to drown. If I don’t force myself to put my laptop down at nine pm and watch TV with my kid, I’m going to wake up feeling as crazed as I did when I went to sleep. And nobody wins. (I am finishing this at 10:45 pm, so you can see how quickly I deviated from my healthy bedtime goal.)

My self-care needs to be efficient; meditation needs to be pre-meditated (hey-oh!). It’s sort of like scheduling sex. Eventually it won’t feel so forced and rigid and joyless. But I have to endure this phase, and I have to choose the kind of self-care that really packs a punch. Coffee with a treasured friend is better than scrolling TikTok. Yoga is better than reading a novel I can’t concentrate on. Therapy and nature and exercise are non-negotiable.

As I’ve developed some new strategies to manage my ADHD—to both tap into the superpower aspects of hyperfocus and creativity and also improve my executive functioning, forgetfulness, and procrastination—I’ve elevated my list-making to unprecedented levels.

During this past week when my schedule was more packed than ever before, I time blocked my day down to the minute. There were hardly any moments that weren’t accounted for, and I wrote down every single task that needed to be done, from returning emails to scheduling doctor’s appointments to Zoom meetings to how exactly to manage the rare hours when I had a large work block to tackle various projects.

By the end of the week, my planner looked like the scrawlings of a lunatic. But if I didn’t map it all out, I would obviously forget important tasks. On the occasion when I failed to write something down, it didn’t get done, and the realization would flood me with shame. I double-booked myself twice and noticed more potential overbooking conflicts weeks down the road that needed my attention.

I’m self-employed, and right now, during this season of feeling particularly untethered, the instability feels like a liability at times. There is no guarantee how much money I’ll make each month, and that’s scary. But additionally unnerving is the fact that I don’t have a regimented schedule. Post-divorce and post-ADHD diagnosis, there wasn’t the comforting familiarity of “at least I’ll go into the office Monday morning like I always do.” I was building a career, laying down stepping stones just moments before they needed to support the weight of my next step.

But the good news is this: I love my work to the point of obsession. Everything I do lights me up in some way and reminds me that I have a purpose, that I am on the right path. And to be honest, micro-managing my schedule to such a ridiculous degree is also a form of self-care. Because when I give myself the gift of knowing I have written everything down, that it’s managed, I can finally relax. It’s like that subconscious signal to my brain that someone safe, someone capable, is in charge. It’s the Pavlovian response I had as a child when I heard the garage door open and knew my parents were home. The grown-ups are here, and somebody has it under control: but now that somebody is me.

When I complete my “night-before morning planning neurotic time blocking list,” I give my brain the gift of knowing that it’s safe to pick up that novel for an impressive five minutes before I fall asleep to the same meditation I listen to every night. Then I can write “read book” on my to-do list, and promptly cross it off. Neurotic self-care, guys. You should try it.

XOXO,
Steph

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Here are the things preventing me from relaxing! 😉 I’d love for you to join me at any upcoming event/workshop!

• I have 2 more spots available in my Intro to Writing Groups Workshop! This five-week intimate workshop guides writers through the process of developing and workshopping an essay in a small, supportive group. Zoom meetings are Wednesdays at 4:30 EST. Grab one of the last spots here!

• Comedy Coven is coming to Boulder on October 25th! This all-female comedy show is an antidote to the perpetual patriarchy of a male-dominated industry. Come laugh with us! Tickets on sale here.

• Join me and Michele Theoharris for a nourishing evening of creativity and connection for moms on September 25th—Nourish Your Creative Fire at Sunny Isle Yoga. Sign up on their website. Details below (aside from the date!)