I’m a journalist with ADHD, and host of the new Understood podcast “Climbing the Walls.” Here’s how I get it done.

Danielle Elliot is a writer and documentarian who is always trying to do too many things at once. She does most things on a whim, whether it’s catching the train to get dinner with friends or booking a one-way ticket to South America. 

6:50 a.m. I wake up and reach for my phone to see the time. I don’t want to be awake this early, but I seem to be waking up 10 to 20 minutes earlier every day this week. I think it’s because I’ve been solo in a house in rural Vermont, which means I’ve been eating really healthy and going to bed early. I was in bed by 9:15 last night. Also not normal for me.

7:30 a.m. I’m feeling more energy than I’d expect. I decide to do a 20-minute Peleton HIIT class, then a 15-minute full body strength. 

12:00 p.m. The Uber driver arrives to take me to the airport. I’ve been watching a friend’s dog all week. It breaks my heart to have to trick her as I’m leaving. But my friends insisted she’d freak out if she saw my suitcase, so I leave a trail of treats leading her to their bedroom. She starts following the trail and I sneak out the front door.

2:00 p.m. I forgot to eat lunch. Airport kiosk Cheez-Its will have to do. I think I’ve been better about remembering to eat ever since finding out that forgetting to eat is part of ADHD. But time blindness still gets me in these sorts of situations.

4:00 p.m. I land in New York an hour later than scheduled and catch the AirTrain to the train to the subway.

5:35 p.m. I stop at a banh mi place near my apartment and get a tofu vermicelli bowl. A friend is supposed to be picking me up at 5:45 to go to another friend’s to watch the Oscars. 

11:30 p.m. I am absolutely crashing. I’m the only one not drinking and I’m about to fall asleep on the couch. Two of us split a car home.

12:30 a.m. I can’t sleep. My apartment is so much louder than that sweet Vermont farmhouse. I want so badly to be asleep, but my mind just keeps racing. 

6:15 a.m. I wake up with a splitting headache. I want so badly to fall back asleep, but it’s not happening. Usually when my head hurts like this, it’s either because I didn’t sleep or I’m hungry. I walk to the kitchen and realize I have no breakfast food. I’d love to say this is because I’ve been away, but I don’t even have anything in the cabinet. I’ve been ordering out a lot lately, which I think is me just avoiding shopping because the organizational part of it is tough for my ADHD. Once I actually do go grocery shopping, I remember it’s not hard. But I never really set aside time to do it. 

I have corn tortillas in my fridge, and I toss one in the microwave. I’ve never done this. I’m desperate. I pull an ad hoc breakfast together from what I can find — frozen blueberries, some walnuts, and chia seeds. But it doesn’t cure the headache. I remember that there’s a new bakery opening on my block today. Instagram tells me it’ll open at 7:30. Maybe I’ll be their first customer. 

6:45 a.m. I’m back in bed but afraid to fall back asleep. I have a doctor’s appointment at 9. My phone is dying, and my charger’s in another room, so there’s a solid chance I’d sleep right through my appointment. I’m so tired. I decide that I’ll get up and watch White Lotus on the couch, next to my charger, and then leave for the appointment.

8:30 a.m. I wake up in a fog. I fell asleep on the couch. If I leave right now, I could make it to the appointment on time — maybe. I start brushing my teeth. Then I decide to take a shower. I leave my apartment 20 minutes before the appointment, knowing it’ll take at least 30 minutes to get there. Time blindness and poor executive functioning are definitely some of the ways I struggle most with ADHD. 

I stop at a bodega for a breakfast sandwich. What’s better than a $3 egg on a roll? Nothing! Nothing is better. But it still doesn’t cure my headache. And it only makes me later. 

12:03 p.m. I rush in the door and log into a work call. I’m late because I was so late to my doctor’s appointment that I had to wait an hour. Then I stopped for coffee. My head is still pounding.

1:45 p.m. I’m done with meetings and don’t have much going on. I walk to that new bakery for a sandwich, but there’s a sign outside saying they’ve sold out for the day and closed early. I walk a little farther and get a sandwich and some premade food at a deli. I know I won’t have time to go grocery shopping and I still have no food in my apartment. 

4:52 p.m. I wake up on the couch again in a mild panic because I have no idea what time it is. I really didn’t get enough sleep last night and I’m feeling it. Dazed, I remember that someone is coming at 5:15 to buy my dining table. I love buying furniture and reselling it months later. I redo my apartment once a season, all through Facebook Marketplace. I think this is about novelty, stimulation, and just wanting constant change, which I strongly associate with my ADHD. I track it all in a spreadsheet and usually end up breaking even or making money. I’ve wanted a smaller table for months. But now that the bigger one is gone, I wonder if I’ll even bother with a new one. It’s so nice to have free space. 

8:45 p.m. I’ve already rearranged my living room. I have a sectional couch, and it’s now split into two couches facing each other. 

10:52 p.m. Finally going to sleep after watching two rom-coms. I’ve been watching so many of them lately — maybe because we’re finally seeing more emotionally mature or at least balanced relationships in them? I don’t know, but I can’t get enough. Tonight I shouldn’t have stayed up so late, though. I have to actually focus tomorrow. And I still have to brush my teeth. I’m so tired that my eyes are watering. 

Hear more from Danielle on Climbing the Walls, an investigative podcast that digs into the rise of ADHD diagnoses among women.

8:54 a.m. I wake up and roll over to check the time. I'm relieved when I realize I’ve actually slept. I took half of an over-the-counter sleep aid, and it worked. My phone’s dead, though. I think it died in the middle of a sleep hypnosis track. I get up to plug it into my charger and decide I’ll go for a walk. Before I can leave, my phone lights up and I check my email. I end up on the couch for an hour, reading notes for one of my current projects. When I’m done, I open my email again and fire off a response to an annoying message. I try to remind myself not to snap at anyone, but my response still comes off more harshly than is appropriate. 

I think I’m spread too thin right now. I know this happens when I take on too many projects. But when I don’t have enough work, I get horrendously bored — and that feels worse than being overtired and burnt out. So, I tend to choose being too busy over being not busy enough. 

I eventually walk to a coffee shop to read the notes, looking forward to the change of scenery. My momentary good mood plummets when the woman in front of me snags the last counter seat. I’m left on a bench behind the counter stools, leaning on a small table. It’s uncomfortable, and I regret not getting my order to go. I make a list of things to do today and finish my drink quickly.

10:53 a.m. The supervising producer on a series calls me. We talk notes for 10 minutes and I realize, from the pitch of my voice, that I’m more stressed out than I want to acknowledge. As I hang up, I realize I missed a call from the editor. I call her back and we set a plan for the day.

12:57 p.m. I’m flying through notes, feeling focused and glad to have something concrete to do. I glance at my phone and see a text from a friend, saying the line at that new bakery was long but moved fast. I tell myself I should keep my focus, but within minutes I’m putting my coat on and walking over to get in line. Being aware of the ways I struggle to focus doesn’t always help me to be any better at it. I need lunch eventually, I reason with myself. 

I wait in line for half an hour, and instead of one sandwich I buy three. Plus two pastries. This makes no sense — I usually feel sick if I eat too much bread. And there’s no way the third sandwich will still be fresh for lunch tomorrow. Alas, I buy them. Plus an iced peach tea. Knowing about my ADHD has helped me notice my impulsivity, but it hasn’t necessarily helped me to tame it. 

When I get home, I send an email inviting about 15 friends to celebrate my birthday upstate. It’s six weeks away and this is probably the earliest I’ve ever attempted to plan. It’s also the first time since before the pandemic that I’ve asked anyone to do something for my birthday, because I tend to assume everyone already has too many things to do. But this is 40, so we’re supposed to celebrate, right? And I’ve never asked anyone to go to a bachelorette or a wedding so it’s fine, I think? 

3:15 p.m. I realize I’m emptying a hall closet instead of working. I sit back down at my desk and respond to Slack messages. 

4:35 p.m. I walk out to the local shipping store to mail a package. Then I get on the train so I can meet someone to buy two things — another Facebook Marketplace distraction. 

9:15 p.m. I shut down my computer for the night. I flip through the notepad on my desk, ripping out old to-do lists and pages of notes that I’ve addressed. I rip out other pages and organize them in stacks according to the project they’re associated with. Then I lie down on the couch and look at possible places to book a dinner reservation for that 40th birthday. The couch is in an entirely different position than it was this morning. I think I like it. I’m sure I’ll change it next week. 

I still haven’t bought breakfast food, and I know I can’t keep eating out every morning. I tell myself I’ll go grocery shopping in the morning. I plug in my phone and go to bed.