Hello — this one is for every woman who built a life on being organised and never asked why. Linja Reid worked out she was ADHD in her late 30s, after her son’s diagnosis, a misdiagnosis maze, and one question from her psychologist that undid the whole story: but why are you organised? We talk…
Hello — and what an absolute cracker of a conversation this one is. Claire Britton is the founding director of Neuroinclusion, an OT and a neurodivergent business owner who has built a team of 20-odd therapists on a foundation that most organisations still can’t spell — genuine neuroinclusion, not just the poster on the wall….
We Weren’t Actually Living”: Paige Carter on Burnout, the Grey Area, and Becoming a Badass Advocate This week I’m sitting down with Paige Carter — the woman who once organised an entire night at Parliament House so autistic families could put their reality in front of the people making the decisions. We talk about the…
Decision fatigue, demand avoidance, impossible standards, communication under pressure — all of it feeds into this: the person at the centre of the neurodivergent family system who has been holding everything together for so long that holding everything together has become the only identity available.
She is not struggling because she is weak. She is struggling because the structure she is operating inside was never designed for her brain, her family, or the particular density of what neurodivergent family life actually requires.
And she has been told, consistently and in a hundred different ways, that the solution is more of her.
It is not.
Somewhere along the way, the idea took hold that good relationships require immediate, open communication.
That if something is wrong, you talk about it. Now. Honestly. Fully. And if you can’t — or won’t — that is a sign of avoidance, immaturity, or a relationship that isn’t working.
For neurodivergent brains, this expectation is not just unhelpful. It actively causes harm.
Not because neurodivergent people are bad at communication. Because communication under nervous system overload produces outcomes that are the opposite of what anyone in that conversation actually wants.
The “When Your Brain Has Had Enough” series addresses the unique exhaustion experienced by neurodivergent women. It challenges unrealistic perfectionism and introduces “Me First Thinking,” emphasising the necessity of self-compassion and understanding one’s capacity. This approach promotes sustainable practices, recognising that accepting “good enough” is essential for well-being and resilience.
The article emphasises that for neurodivergent individuals, especially those with demand avoidance, excessive support can be counterproductive. Instead of adding reminders or structure, backing off allows them to engage on their terms, fostering independence. Trusting this approach can be uncomfortable but necessary for genuine progress and relief.
You are not disorganised. You are not lazy. You are not bad at managing your life.
You are running a brain that has already spent its daily allocation of executive resources before most people have finished their second coffee — and the world is still handing you a full list.
This is decision fatigue. And for neurodivergent brains, it does not work the way productivity culture says it does.
We often praise resilience, especially in neurodivergent women and mothers—but without recognition of our needs and emotional world, even success can feel hollow. This blog explores why many of us struggle to celebrate ourselves and others, and how reclaiming recognition can shift that. Because you can’t celebrate what you can’t recognise.
“BBMe Completely is here to make sure you never have to apologise for your brain again. Not to me. Not to your family. Not to yourself.”
— Joanne Hatchard
