A day in the life of my neurospicy brain

Riding the roller-coaster of a hopeful and overwrought mind

4:30 a.m.

The alarm on my Apple Watch starts to vibrate.

I set it last night with big plans and great optimism. Reminding myself how much I will later feel grateful for the long, quiet, peaceful stretch of time to write and create before the noisy work day sets in. I hit snooze; I set it earlier than I actually want to get up because I know I’ll hit snooze. I hit snooze several more times, until I’m awake enough to lie there calculating how many more snoozes I can afford before the math turns against me.

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Sometime between 5 a.m. and 8-ish, depending on when my first meeting is scheduled

I actually get up.

I rush through showering, the first cup of coffee, walking the dog. I take my meds. I dread my upcoming meetings. I want to crawl back into bed. And I resent that I didn’t get the peaceful stretch of time I promised myself last night.

9 a.m.

The meds kick in.

By now I’m usually a few cups of coffee in, and I start to enjoy my conversations. This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. But I’m also multitasking, building my very long to-do list for today, because as soon as I get off all these meetings, I’m going to get so much done.

11:30 a.m.

The morning meetings wrap up, and I start working on a project I’ve been procrastinating on.

12:30 p.m.

The dog is staring at me. My stomach is growling. Because I just lost myself in an hour of hyperfocus on this project, and now it’s impossible to pull myself away long enough to think about food. The guilty Labrador retriever eyes and drooling finally do it. I’ve got to squeeze in lunch for both of us before my next meeting.

1:30 p.m.

Meetings are over for the day. Finally, I can start chipping away at my to-do list!

1:45 p.m.

I feel exhausted. My list is still staring at me, but now I have a pile of action items from this morning’s meetings, unread Teams chats, and no mental energy to tackle any of it. Maybe I should take a nap.

2:30 p.m.

Though I lay down forty-five minutes ago to take a nap, I worked on New York Times Spelling Bee instead. It’s time to get back to work. I re-prioritize my to-dos, make a short list of “three next things” to finish, and set an ADHD timer, tricking myself into time-boxing my tasks so I can knock them out.

3:30 p.m.

I’m on a roll again. One of my tasks has turned into a brand-new way of thinking about framing a project, and I’m down in the glory of building a shiny, smart new spreadsheet to represent it, with color-coding and fancy pulldowns. Fun.

4:30 p.m.

The dog is staring at me again. I haven’t walked him. I think about all the things I was hoping to get done today—all my writing projects, the rest of my work commitments, a workout, a hobby. I’ll work late tonight, I promise myself. No problem. I can knock all this stuff out. I go walk the dog.

5:00 p.m.

I’m back at my desk finishing my work project. There’s still a lot to do. I’m tired of sitting at my desk. I drag both my laptops, along with my day planner, a timer, and my phone, down to the living room. I’ll just camp out on the couch and get all this stuff done. Plus, I’ll lift weights, do twenty minutes of yoga, and practice my banjo. And polish off eighty pages of the novel I’m reading. No prob.

6:00 p.m.

Husband is home from work. Dog is staring at me again; it’s his dinner time. I start cooking dinner for us humans too. I’ll just multitask while I’m cooking, easy. I can knock out a bunch of to-dos while things are simmering.

7:00 p.m.

Dinner is done, but the kitchen is a mess, and I haven’t multitasked at all.

8:00 p.m.

I finally clean up the kitchen from dinner, and my husband gets ready to go to the gym. I stare at my laptops, but exhaustion has hit again. Maybe I’ll just watch one show, and then I will get back to it.

I watch an episode of Ted Lasso I have seen three times. I play with the dog. I chip away at NYT Spelling Bee. I scroll Instagram.

9:00 p.m.

I announce to my husband that I am going to bed to read. At least I’ll get my eighty pages done. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and crawl into bed. I read three pages.

9:15 p.m.

I fall asleep. At some point, I wake up long enough to put the book aside and turn out the light. But before I do, I set my alarm for 4:30 a.m. tomorrow.

I’m going to get so much done in the morning.