I’m a communications strategist with ADHD. Here’s how I’m juggling unemployment stress and parenting.

Bex is a communications strategist and writer who was recently diagnosed with ADHD. She lives in Maryland with her husband and 8-year-old daughter. She’s trying to embrace her ADHD superpowers as she hunts for a job in a tough market.

5:00 a.m. I wake up with my mind racing and fall back asleep after an hour. I usually sleep OK. But recently I’ve been more stressed by my long and often fruitless job search, and by my daughter’s struggles with the changes in routine.

7:30 a.m. I get up, groggy, but my daughter is ready to go — dressed, and hair and teeth brushed. But in her excitement, she forgot that she needed to eat breakfast first. 

8:00 a.m. My husband’s taxi arrives to take him to the airport for a work trip. It’s just us girls this week, and I’m determined to prove to myself that I can keep this ship running. I feel like I’m getting into a depression and need to pull myself out of it.

8:17 a.m. My daughter asks for the umpteenth time if we can leave, and I repeat the same answer: “We’ll leave at 8:30.” She says, “Oh, I thought you said 8:13!” 

8:29 a.m. We’re out the door. We walk to school, and once we’re there, I chat with another mom. The social contact feels good.

9:00 a.m. I do voice journaling, which helps to free some mind space. I prefer it over writing because I can be on the move. It helps me to figure out and face the day ahead. I decide to work on my memoir manuscript after a long period of inactivity.

10:00 a.m. I do a quick call with my husband before he boards the plane. Then I take care of some indoor plants. I tidy some more (unusual for me) and then put into place the first part of my self-care plan: exercise. Once I’ve started, the endorphins feel good, and I’m surprised to find that it’s hard to stop. ADHD can make task-switching harder.

12:00 p.m. Manuscript time. I remember to do the Pomodoro method (where you work for 25 minutes and then take a five-minute break). It’s worked well for me in the past. It especially helps me to get over the daunting task of getting back to the manuscript after a break of many weeks (maybe months? I’ve lost track). Since being diagnosed with ADHD about a year ago, I’ve been working with a new therapist on many new techniques. This includes different ways to approach my manuscript (which has been “aversive”) so that I can finally get it past the finish line after nearly 10 years of working on it post-MFA. 

2:00 p.m. Therapy. We discuss my recent challenges with rumination. ADHD in women can often look like a hyperactive mind — as opposed to the stereotype of a boy who’s disrupting the class with his antics. I’m also dealing with a lot of rejection sensitivity since I’m submitting so many job applications and hardly getting any traction.

4:30 p.m. Since it’s the first night ever that my daughter is required to do homework, I pick her up early. I’m bracing for a fight. But she’s in a good mood and has already finished it. Relief! The evening goes as smoothly as could be hoped for. Since it’s only me tonight, I do cleanup and bedtime.

9:00 p.m. I get in the bath, which feels very relaxing. It’s one of my old coping techniques that I realize I should be doing more of. Although I want to go to sleep early, I end up staying in the water for an hour.

10:15 p.m. I’m done reading and fall asleep.

3:45 a.m. My daughter comes into my room very scared (possibly after a nightmare, which she has with some regularity). She eventually falls asleep, but now I’ve got racing thoughts. Somehow I fall back asleep. 

7:20 a.m. My daughter is up and gets ready, mostly by herself. She doesn’t eat much — she’s nervous about school. She cajoles me to get out of bed.

8:00 a.m. It’s still too early to leave, so I tell my daughter to go outside and play. Miraculously, she does! I get myself ready.

8:32 a.m. We have a nice walk, and I drop her a little farther from the school door because we’re trying to give her more independence.

9:30 a.m. I’m home, doing voice journaling and some yard work while waiting for a call. Being outside in the garden usually helps me get out of my head. I’m also hoping that the rigorous activity will help me sleep better.

11:00 a.m. Manuscript and Pomodoro time. I work until 11:45. Then I decide to prep a bit for my noon call with a recruiter.

12:20 p.m. The call goes quickly. It wasn’t for a specific role, but it still feels good to get myself “out there.”

1:00 p.m. I jump on a call for a small consulting project. It’s supposed to run for an hour, but it ends early. Now it feels like I have plenty of time for admin work and checking emails before prepping for my next call.

2:15 p.m. I have to force myself to switch tasks and write some notes. I’m much more aware of my time blindness now, but it still gets me. 

2:28 p.m. I log in to the call. But a few minutes later, when the person still hasn’t logged in, I check to see if they’ve contacted me. I realize that I’d only created the calendar invite for myself and hadn’t sent it to the other person! I laugh at my blunder, which makes much more sense now in the context of my ADHD, and I don’t beat myself up. After emailing the person some new times, I go take a nap. The disturbed sleep has caught up with me.

4:15 p.m. I wish I’d taken a shorter nap, because I’m feeling groggy. I have a few sips of green tea and consider picking my daughter up early again to tackle homework. But I return to the computer because I didn’t end up doing many of the things I aimed to do today. I send a few emails.

5:15 p.m. I dash out when I realize the time. Thankfully, my daughter doesn’t notice that it’s a little later than usual. Once again, she’s already finished her homework.

5:30 p.m. I cook and eat dinner with a mostly silent kid. I’m having a monologue asking about her day, then give up and embrace the silence.

7:30 p.m. My daughter is in the bath. I debate cleaning up the kitchen or leaving it for tomorrow. I dread chores, finding them boring (like many ADHD and neurotypical folks). But I also feel like I should use them as opportunities for mindfulness, or at least daydreaming and decompressing. I go upstairs with my daughter, deciding to leave it for tomorrow.

9:00 p.m. My daughter’s lights are out. I read the news — which I know I shouldn’t do at bedtime because it’s bad sleep hygiene. I switch to a book and fall asleep around 10:30.

4:00 a.m. I’m awoken by a nightmare. It’s a long while before I can fall asleep again.

7:30 a.m. My alarm goes off. I reset it.

8:00 a.m. I wake up and hear my daughter making her bed. I go to give her the new granola that she loves and find that we’re out of milk. Oops. My husband usually buys it and keeps track of our inventory. But since he’s away, it fell through the cracks. I chuckle at how much I’ve come to rely on him for our milk supply.

8:45 a.m. Since we both woke up later, we drive part of the way, and then walk. I have a quick chat with a neighbor on my way back. Then I eat breakfast.

10:00 a.m. I check my schedule and remind myself once again that I have an annual physical today. I have one and a half hours to do something beforehand, but I waffle: Should I go back outside and get more exercise, or get on my computer? I choose the former. But first, I load the dishwasher.

11:30 a.m. I change clothes and leave. For once, I’m five minutes early to an appointment! When it’s over, I remember to buy milk at the grocery store.

1:30 p.m. Thankfully, no calls this afternoon! I’m enjoying lunch outside on a beautiful day, along with great people-watching.

2:00 p.m. I have an hour to tackle tasks. I’m volunteering with a group and finish drafting a media advisory faster than I’d thought. I send it off, but I don't have time to get into anything else.

3:00 p.m. Therapy again. I’ve been seeing my therapist twice a week recently because I’m really struggling with my daughter’s schedule-change meltdowns, the stress of unemployment, and the general uncertainty that I’m facing. The good news is that I’m back at my memoir, and that’s a huge achievement to celebrate. We talk more about scheduling and medication for ADHD. After a year of only behavioral interventions, I think I’m ready to try it.

4:00 p.m. A friend and fellow laid-off federal worker was supposed to come over to my place now, but there was a snafu. We speak and agree to meet at the school at 4:30 and then pick up our kids. 

4:30 p.m. I think I have plenty of time, but then I look up and see it’s already 4:30! Shoot. I text my friend and drive over in five minutes.

6:00 p.m. I cook an easy dinner. The dishwasher is already pretty full, but I squeeze in a couple more things. I’m exhausted and vow to get to bed early tonight. 

9:10 p.m. My daughter’s lights are out. Even though I know I should do the same, once again I read the news on my phone in bed. I used to be much better about sleep hygiene, but I’m slipping. 

10:15 p.m. I’m almost ready to sleep, but there’s a mosquito buzzing around me. I try to swat it, but it escapes. I’m preoccupied that it’s going to keep bothering me during the night.

10:45 p.m. I’m still awake, and the mosquito lands on my forehead. It flies away, but then I get it (I think). My husband’s back tomorrow, and I’ve never been more relieved. I’ll finally get some “me time.”

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