I’m a voice actor with ADHD. Here’s how I manage work and life at home with five kids.

Aleesha Bake, 44, is a voice actor navigating life as a working mom with ADHD. She lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, with her husband and five kids, ages 8 to 20. Aleesha hosts the podcast, The Story of Her.

6:00 a.m. My husband is out of bed and getting ready for work. I didn’t sleep well because my brain wouldn’t shut up, so I’m clinging to the bed like it’s a lifeboat.

7:30 a.m. I wake suddenly, remembering that this school year, my 8-year-old son’s bus comes at 8:00 instead of 8:30. I find him downstairs watching TV. I feel horrible that I didn’t hear him, and my mom guilt kicks in. We chat about how he needs to come and get me when he wakes up, and I remind him that TV isn’t how we start our day. I tell myself to figure out how to set a password on the TV. But if I don’t write it down, I won’t remember. I forget to write it down.

8:00 a.m. We manage to get to the bus on time and remember his ADHD medication. This feels like a huge win. I have a hard time remembering his meds because of my own ADHD. I hug him tight, and he jumps on the bus excited for his first day back at school. 

8:18 a.m. I come home, and my dirty kitchen is calling. It always is. I feel overwhelmed, but I ignore it and head to my backyard studio. I have auditions due by 9 a.m., but on the way to the studio, I notice that the figs need to be picked and the chickens need water. Normally, I would get distracted by this. But my meds help me prioritize. I give the chickens water and decide the figs can wait.

9:01 a.m. I submit an audition to my agent with an apology for being late. I should have had plenty of time, but ADHD overthinking won today.

11:35 a.m. My 20-year-old starts a new semester today, and we’re discussing his classes when I remember I have a CT scan at noon. I’m choosing to be grateful that my disorganized brain remembered it at all. 

11:40 a.m. As I get in the car, I check my calendar for the address and realize it’s 30 minutes away. I panic and check the patient portal. Phew! I’ve written it in my calendar wrong. It is across town, but it’s at 12:20, so I’m saved by my own error today. But I arrive at the wrong address because I was distracted. I have to get back in the car and drive next door.

12:25 p.m. I have to drink contrast before the scan and sit in the waiting room for an hour, so of course, I make friends with the lady next to me. My ADHD came with a side of chatty.

7:00 p.m. The contrast made me sick, which makes my ADHD disorganization even worse. But I manage to get everyone picked up on time. My husband has to take my 8-year-old to buy school supplies, because I forgot, and I’m too sick to go. I forget things a lot, and he doesn’t really complain, but I still feel like a failure. I fold laundry to try to feel like I’m not useless. It doesn’t help.

10:00 p.m. I go to bed on time, but I stay awake most of the night thinking of all the things I need to do. 

6:30 a.m. I’m up because I need to pick figs before it gets hot. I pick a few, make breakfast for the little guy, and barely get him to the bus on time. As he’s climbing on the bus, I realize that I forgot his meds and snack. I know the teacher has backup snacks, but I feel like a failure! It’s the second day of school, and I’ve already forgotten both. We had systems in place last year to avoid this, but I’ve gotten out of the habit.

9:00 a.m. I talk my daughter into picking figs and my son into installing the part in my broken freeze dryer that came last night, so I can preserve the figs. With five of the seven people in our family medicated for ADHD and anxiety — and with autoimmune issues — we grow and preserve a lot of our food to try to eliminate processed food and added ingredients. But it’s a lot of extra work.

11:20 a.m. I have to run an errand and remember to stop for milk on the way home. I get to the register and discover my wallet is missing. I have no idea where it is and feel like an idiot. After searching the car and calling my son to hunt for my wallet, I use Apple Pay. Even though my forgetful brain annoys me, I’m going to count it as a win that I remembered the milk. I head home and start washing and prepping the figs for the freezer.

1:00 p.m. The freeze dryer is still broken because a part wasn’t right. I have to spend hours negotiating with customer service. I’m in an ADHD hyperfocus that’s hard for me to get out of. I want the problem solved, and everything else disappears while I try to solve it.

4:45 p.m. Barely made the bus! We leave to go pick my daughter up. My son talks on the way, and I learn he had a good day even without his meds, because it was a fun day with lots of movement. I’m grateful for his new teacher, because this would not have been the case last year. 

6:00 p.m. We make dinner, then I start a virtual meeting for church — all while trying to get my littlest in bed. I have to keep muting my mic because he keeps coming back downstairs. The meeting runs long, and I feel like I didn’t contribute as much as I wanted to because my brain is all over the place. My husband doesn’t get home from work until 10:00. I miss him when days are busy like this.

6:15 a.m. I get up earlier today because I want to see my husband’s face for more than 10 seconds. But we go right into the morning routines, and I barely get a second kiss as he’s headed out the door. The little guy and I make breakfast and get to the bus on time. He reminded me to get his meds, and we even remembered his snack. Mornings go better when I get up earlier. But I’m tired all day when I do.

8:00 a.m. I’m chatting with the neighbor at the bus stop and remember I have a doctor’s appointment. I frantically check my phone, but it’s not until 9:00. I rush home to get my auditions submitted and to check in with my college student before he goes to class.

9:00 a.m. I chat with the doctor about my meds. Finding the right meds feels like a roller coaster. I want to handle life without them, yet they make things so much more manageable. She also prescribes a sleep aid, but I’m nervous. I don’t like the side effects, but I do need to sleep better.

10:00 a.m. I’m in and out of the studio until noon — with a little work and a lot of scrolling.

12:20 p.m. I decide to dye my hair. No, this wasn’t planned. I’m tired of the faded gray look and just want a change.

2:00 p.m. I’m still working, and my 14-year-old makes some cookies. I’m not supposed to be eating sugar, but just one won’t hurt, right? The impulse control I had in the morning when I took my meds is GONE.

6:15 p.m. I’m in the studio, and I forget to make dinner. I feed the kids leftovers. 

7:00 p.m. My husband is late again, so I have to get the girls to a church activity. I stop at the grocery store for steak on the way home, so at least he can have a nice dinner.

7:15 p.m. I get home, gather tools, and start to build a roosting bar in my neighbor’s chicken coop. I’ve been promising to build it, but I keep forgetting. As I come home hot and sweaty, I remind myself to say “no” more often. But I know I won’t.

8:15 p.m. My husband comes home and tells me he doesn’t want dinner. I’ve been waiting to cook so I could eat with him, so I’m grumpy. I eat cereal, but I wanted steak.

9:00 p.m. We finally have a few minutes together and watch a show we both usually enjoy. It’s a slow episode, and I’m bored. Why can’t I even watch a TV show without needing to be on my phone?

10:00 p.m. We try to talk, but he’s tired and falls asleep before we can even say much at all. I lie there awake right next to him, and I still miss him. We’ll plan a date night later in the week, but for now, we’re just getting through it — one little bit of beautiful chaos at a time. 

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