The Important ADHD Truth I Kept Refusing to Believe

5 signs I was deep in ADHD burnout — and how I’m getting out

Photo by Stacey Koenitz on Unsplash

I honestly thought I had my brain figured out.

Since I was re-diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) four years ago — after a forgotten diagnosis two decades before that — I’ve spent a lot of time reading. Researching. Thinking.

Heck, I’ve written over 200 articles about my ADHD — what works, what doesn’t, and the hacks that work for me daily.

I’ve learned, more than most, how to not just manage my ADHD brain, but thrive with it.

Or so I thought.

It all started with good intentions. About a month ago, I attended a virtual workshop.

I don’t consider myself easy to influence, and yet I found myself feeling as if my brain had been cracked open and reassembled.

And before you ask, NO, it was not a cult meeting. It was a workshop with a former Medium heavyweight, a successful writer and creator whom I admired.

As they spoke, I felt like I was being hit by truth bombs. All the things I thought I knew were questioned.

I was fired up. Inspired. Determined.

Was it ALL in my head, literally, or metaphorically? And could I start doing something different?

I thought yes. So I did.

I went cold turkey off sugar after years of indulging. I started exercising every day. I woke up early.

I even hiked two mountains in as many days.

The last one involved scrambling up sheer rock faces, bushwhacking through tree-blown trails, and leaping across streams.

Scrambling for the first time in years

It left me with sore legs, scraped palms, and a sense of invincibility.

After years of self-imposed limitations, holding myself back, playing it safe, I was finally committing to what mattered to me.

That was all I needed, I thought.

And then I crashed.

The last few days, I slept in.

I lacked motivation. I was testy with the people in my life. The negative thoughts I had been trying to rewire started coming back.

Sure, I still went to my spinning classes, went figure skating, and biked 23 and 20 miles over the last few days, respectively. But it felt like pushing a boulder uphill in knee-deep snow. I hated every moment.

I wondered what had happened and started to blame myself.

Why can’t you ever do anything for more than a month without quitting?

Then, on my bike ride today, I stumbled across a podcast episode that explained exactly what I was feeling. I had heard the term before and experienced it many times. I just hadn’t realized that’s what was happening. Until now.

I had just completed another boom-bust cycle

The boom-bust cycle isn’t just an economic term — in ADHD circles, it refers to a pattern of extreme productivity or hyperfocus (“boom”) followed by severe exhaustion or burnout (“bust”).

It happens because we’re seeking dopamine, find something that provides it, go all in, and end up basically burning ourselves out.

Due to our brain’s different structure and functioning, we lack the “moderation” impulse that others have. We’re either all in or all out.

We also can’t moderate our dopamine, which our brain also has trouble receiving and processing. We crave those dopamine hits and keep doing whatever is giving them to us.

Until we get bored. Then we drop the thing and move to the next.

I did this all my life.

In figure skating, I got obsessed with one particular move, doing it over and over…until it got boring and I didn’t want to skate again.

In school, I would read and re-read my favorite books, but I didn’t have the mental energy left to read the assigned reading.

And as an adult, I’d get pulled away from my actual work — an article, admin work — for my latest flight of fancy, like cataloging my perfume collection or getting super into mountain biking (which lasted for like 3 months).

For example, lately I decided to write a book. I announced it on social media. I spent two days writing.

And then, the next day, I just…didn’t want to. I was bored already.

What seemed like such a great idea became an anchor around my neck.

And I panicked because I now knew I had announced the idea and had to carry on, yet didn’t quite know how to get my motivation back.

This is due in part to our interest-based nervous systems. We have an impressive ability to hyperfocus and/or hyperfixate on the object(s) of our attention.

That sounds great, until you’ve hyperfocused on coding that website for 2 days and haven’t left your room, or eaten, or slept.

It also sounds great, until you hyperfixate on your favorite sweet treat, crush, or collectible and eat, swoon, or buy yourself into oblivion.

Over the last few weeks, I went all in on fitness, diet, and mindset. But it was too much, too soon. I spent all my dopamine capital on plotting my workouts, waking up early, and training.

My body thrived. My brain? Not so much.

Instead of slowly changing, I went all in. And sometimes, using the extremes can be helpful. Unless you try to do too much too soon.

That’s a recipe for depression…and burnout.

I’d also been here before — or, my life with chronic burnout

Way back in 2022, a year after my ADHD diagnosis, I told another psychologist about my struggles with overwhelm. Depression. How getting out of bed was a struggle, but I couldn’t slow down because I had too much to do.

I was managing a sports non-profit at the time, while trying to cope with a new house, restart my writing career, and get back in shape.

“You’re burned out,” she said. She wanted me to stop doing so much and slow down.

Clearly, she hadn’t seen the state of my inbox.

I nodded, but mentally I was like, “Nope, I’m not doing ANY of that.”

So I kept going. Kept emailing, kept scheduling, kept working.

This sounds nobler than it actually was. Work, specifically in one of my special interests (figure skating), makes me feel useful, even when it sometimes sucked the life out of me.

And for a while, I thought I “beat” it. That I could achieve all my goals with a can-do attitude and 6 hours of sleep.

Then the crash came again last week, and for the first time, I tied it first to the boom-bust cycle (something I had never heard of before) and burnout.

I started to realize that all my “slip-ups,” weaknesses, and lazy moments had less to do with character failure and more to do with my nervous system.

Because every time I did big things, I ended up in a tailspin. I thought everyone did.

Everyone ended their busy season at their small business by binge-watching Netflix for a week straight.

Everyone wound down their competitive season by refusing to exercise and eating a bunch of chocolate.

Everyone recovered from work by drinking three Starbucks lattes and impulsively buying fancy pens, bookmarks, and books I’ve (still) never read.

No, not everyone does this. All that time, my neurodivergent brain was trying to equalize, and it failed miserably.

The first step was awareness

It’s one thing to realize I have ADHD. It’s another to fully allow all that entails to sink in.

Even now, years after my diagnosis, I’m still figuring out my tells. Seeing what pops up when I’m dangerously close to disregulation and eventual burnout.

And the tells have been…telling.

Realizing when I’m in the “boom” cycle is challenging, because it’s so welcome. Motivation surges. I bolt out of bed to pursue my latest hyperfixation, whether it’s a blog post or a new Instagram account.

I used to think this was a sign I was on my path and doing something right.

And while having intrinsic motivation is good for ADHDers, it can also be a sign of hyperfixations taking us hostage.

I heard a story recently about a man who was just diagnosed with ADHD. He ran a successful media company. It didn’t occur to him that staying in his room for days, building his Facebook pages, wasn’t normal.

In the grips of hyperfixation, he felt engaged. Others thought he had lost the plot.

For me, I realize my “boom” is rarely something I’ve thought through. Like the workshop I’m running (an idea ran amok) or the book I’m writing (same).

They sounded great in the moment. I was excited for about a week. Then I found myself uninterested.

In the boom, nothing else matters. Just you and the hyperfixation that’s keeping you going. When it ends, it’s abrupt.

I bought like 30 Tarot card decks this summer, then quickly lost interest. It came back (mostly), but I still felt shame around my high expenditures.

Then there are the awkward experiences we don’t talk about, like when I was hyperfixated on a guy for a year or so. He was my focus; everything else was background. When he showed how he really felt about me, the hyperfixation disappeared.

When the bust occurs, the feeling is indescribable. It’s sometimes catastrophic, and sometimes just beige. One minute we feel all in — the next, all out.

Sometimes, in an attempt to circumvent the bust, we find easy hits of dopamine to keep going.

Once I start craving my previous regulators — sugary treats, coffee, impulse shopping — I know I’m in the danger zone.

Now that I have the language and the realization that this isn’t “just me,” I have awareness. That’s the first step. From there, I can do something about it.

Here’s what I’m doing to manage the boom-bust cycle — and avoid burnout next time

We can’t 100 percent avoid burnout. Half of neurodivergent employees feel burned out at work — compared to 38 percent of neurotypicals.

But we can get better at spotting the signs so we can, if not avoid it, recover better next time.

I check my foundations (diet, exercise, sleep)

When I am deep in a boom-bust cycle, all of these suffer. I eat more (or forget to eat, then binge). I either over-exercise or become a permanent part of the couch. And I either sleep in or sleep less than 6 hours.

All or nothing, indeed.

For the last few days, I have slept for over 8 hours. I slept past my alarm. I woke up feeling guilty. My fight-or-flight kicked in (I should have been working).

But then I realized that my body was actually repairing itself.

After three hard days of hiking and weeks of hardcore exercise and goal-setting, I needed to restore some equilibrium.

I don’t buy balance for ADHDers. Trying to be “moderate” when your brain is wired to be extreme is a bit of a fool’s errand.

But I do think that we need to trust our body’s signals.

Give ourselves high-quality fuel (protein, good fats, complex carbs, minimal sugar/processed foods). Move our bodies at least a little bit every day. Sleep more than Elon Musk.

Without a strong foundation, burnout is inevitable.

I don’t try to change everything at once

I advised a client not to do this the other day. “Try one thing at a time,” I said. Later, I realized I was advising against what I had just done.

Going cold turkey on sugar wasn’t what broke the camel’s back. It was all the other things — the increased exercise, the early-morning wake-ups, the increased productivity around my writing.

Too much at once, while stimulating to my ADHD brain, was also overwhelming.

When we are excited about a project, we tend to go all in and try to do everything.

The answer, though, is to choose one thing.

What’s one thing I can change that will measurably improve my life? Once I have that locked down, I can change more.

I understand my triggers

I also realized that whenever I removed one source of dopamine, another took its place.

When I went on a diet and could no longer use sweets to regulate, I switched to shopping (and vice versa).

One of the reasons ADHDers tend to suffer from addiction more than neurotypicals is that we can’t always control our actions, coupled with our extreme need for dopamine.

Research shows we need more input than neurotypicals to receive the same dopamine pay-off.

That explained why my friends could have “just one” cupcake, and I would eat several if left nearby, or why I used to buy two different coffee drinks (large) instead of just one.

I was trying to get my dopamine back to neutral.

Lately, it showed up in a less dramatic way.

Coffee is my drug of choice since I’ve gone off sugar, and I find myself needing a cappuccino if not daily, at least every few days.

To normies, this looks like a burgeoning coffee habit. To me, I realize it’s yet another sign of my failed dopamine regulation — and that I was getting dangerously close to burnout.

Another ADHDer noted that he notices his bust cycle is approaching when he starts getting more impatient than usual. This makes sense.

I know I’m nearing burnout when I start snapping at my family.

I also notice that isolation increases when I’m burned out. Extra input is just too much. I want to hide in my room and watch TV instead of being around people.

Last, I know that I’m on burnout’s doorstep when everything feels insurmountable. Doing laundry, feeding the cats, texting people back, and checking my email feels like hiking up that mountain I just did.

That’s when I know.

I don’t “just keep pushing”

This was my biggest mistake.

For years, I didn’t think burnout applied to me. I thought I could just keep going. And I do truly believe that burnout is more likely if you are doing something you don’t enjoy.

But it can also happen when you are doing things you love. When you take on too much, too soon.

I know that now.

As recently as a few weeks ago, I pushed ahead, convinced THIS TIME I had finally found the secret to achieving my goals with ADHD.

I thought if I was merciless with myself, didn’t make excuses (even mentally), and made my tasks nonnegotiable, I would “train” myself to do better.

Instead, all I did was push myself right into a corner.

I’m getting out now.

The best way to fix burnout isn’t to “mindset” your way out of it. Especially with a neurodivergent brain that genuinely operates differently. The best way is to…

Take a break before you think you need it

When I worked at a few Ironman triathlons, I got a chance to chat with the athletes participating.

“We have to refuel every 15–20 minutes, or we crash,” one confided in me from his balcony (I was a hotel room cleaner then). “We can’t wait until we’re hungry; we have to eat before we feel it.”

That’s the principle behind burnout, too. If you only slow down when you are about to crash into a wall, that doesn’t help.

We have to anticipate when we are about to burn out and then deliberately take breaks.

I never thought this was necessary. I used to keep pushing — write more, email more, produce more.

Whenever I watched TV or spent time with my family or cat, I felt guilty. I was wasting time! I should be more productive.

At one point, I was making a pretty good living writing. But I was typing myself into the ground.

My shoulders tightened so much the most gifted masseuse couldn’t undo the knot (still can’t).

I was aggravated all the time.

And my life at home was a mess. Laundry was piled everywhere. Not enough time to check my calendar or answer phone calls.

Now, I realize that resting before I have to is preventive maintenance.

Just like athletes eat before they need to, or stretch to avoid injury, I have to avoid over-extending.

That looks like:

• Having “work hours” after which I close the computer and am done for the day
• Not over-extending myself — if it’s not something I really want to do, I don’t do it
• Scheduling one day to do one type of thing — Sunday is admin day, Monday is writing, etc.
• Taking walks without stimulation (no podcasts, music, or voice notes allowed), so instead of taking my work with me, I’m letting my brain rest
• Intentionally relax — I’m taking yoga next week to force my overactive brain to slow down a bit. Even if it doesn’t happen perfectly, I’m trying

All of these can feel impossible for high-achieving ADHDers. But if I don’t take a break, I’ll be forced to take one. And it will take longer to recover.

What I do now

I check my foundations. Sleep, food, movement. When those go, everything else follows. I trust my body’s signals now instead of overriding them.

I don’t change everything at once. One thing. Get it locked in. Then change more.

I know my triggers. Snapping at family. Wanting to disappear. Reaching for cappuccinos I don’t actually want. When the old regulators come back, I’m in the danger zone.

I don’t just keep pushing. Mindset isn’t a fix — not for a brain that operates differently.

I take breaks before I think I need them. Like Ironman athletes, refueling every 15 minutes. You can’t wait until you’re hungry.

This isn’t an excuse to coddle myself and act like a delicate flower.

It’s actually a mindset shift done right.

As my coach once told me, I don’t need to work harder. I need to work smarter.

I can make big changes. I can do great things. I just need to do them intelligently.

And not letting my dopamine drive the ship has been the first step.