Slow Down: A Neurodivergent Life Skill

I finally get to the point in the day where I can sit down. And every day, without fail, it starts the same way: with the thought, “Okay…tomorrow, I’m going to do so much better.”

At the end of each night, I tell myself, “It’s okay. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
And the next morning, I begin with, “All right. Let’s set everything up just right so we don’t…‘fail.’”

I don’t even like using the word fail. It doesn’t fit. There should be a more positive word, something that means, “You just need more practice,” or “You’re building the habit.” Because logically, once you do something over and over, eventually it becomes ingrained. But for people like me, it’s not that easy. Our brains flip. Everything becomes all-or-nothing.

We wear things out…songs, foods, routines.
I’ll play the same song over and over and over until I hate it. Then I have to go hunt for the next song that gives me dopamine. And eventually, yes, I can go back to the old song and like it again. I’ve learned to allow that cycle instead of fighting it. It’s the same with food, right now it’s apples and caramel. I’m addicted. Slice, dip, repeat.

Anyway.
Here I am, trying to “be good.” Trying to “get better.”
I have days where I say, “You know what? I’m not even going to think about this. I’m done for now.”
And then I have days like today, where I say, “Let’s give it another try. Drink your water. Take your medication on time. Do a little studying. Be a little productive.”

Then the guilt creeps in, guilt for not being active with the things I should be active with. Poor time management. Too many tabs open in the brain. And yet…sometimes I stop long enough to look back on the week and I’m like, “Damn. I actually did a lot.”

And honestly? I should be proud of myself.
Because the motivation it takes for me to get even half of that done is massive.
If there’s no dopamine attached, you can forget it. I either have to deeply want it or fall down an “Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole” level of hyper-focus.

Another question I don’t understand:
Why can I take a short event and turn it into a whole damn novel?
This is why people say I’m “dramatic.” But if you slow down and look at how my brain fires, it makes sense.
And that’s the key word - slow down.

I go from here to there to here again, bouncing like a pinball, but eventually I get to where I’m going. If neurotypical people could experience just one day of this internal chaos? They’d understand.

You may see me smiling, laughing, happy…but inside, I’m crying. I’m screaming. Because I want to be “normal.” And I cry again if I think too hard about it, because I know I never will be.

And explaining this to neurotypicals?
Futile.
They don’t feel it.
They can empathize, maybe. But they can’t experience it. Not the way we do.

There are things I logically know other people understand…but once you feel something for yourself, it has ten times more meaning. That’s the difference.

Anyway, I digress.

My main point is this:
I’m trying to be better.
And to be better, I need certain things done at certain points in the day so I can keep going without spiraling.

If I hit a halfway point and realize I can’t catch up or “correct” anything, I go downhill fast. That all-or-nothing brain. But I’ve been working on pushing forward even when I know I won’t meet my goal.

Because when I stop, it’s not always giving up; sometimes it’s pausing so I can restart in the morning.
And honestly? For me, sometimes continuing is futile.
Sometimes, regathering my thoughts is survival.

One of the habits I want to build is simple: wake up, take my medication (the one that needs to be taken before eating), drink my 8–16 ounces of water, and then…here’s the big one…log into the college portal and check my email.

Email.
The thing that should be easy.
The thing that feels like my personal demon.

I don’t know why it hits me like this.
I open an email and instantly feel like it’s the end of my life. Like it holds a bomb.
I don’t understand it, but it’s crippling.
If anyone out there has answers, I’m begging: tell me.

It’s not procrastination…it feels like refusal.
I can sit at the computer all damn day and still not open that tab, because my brain is convinced something bad is waiting for me.
I know it makes no sense. If anything, the energy burned fighting it should earn me extra calories.

So today, I finally log in.
I open the email.
And of course it’s instructions, changes to the HU login, security updates, two-step authentication.
Nothing actually dangerous.

My instinct is to skim, scroll fast, jump to what I think is important. Classic ADHD behavior. Like those reels where they show instructions with scissors and paper and assume you know what’s next, except the whole point is to trick you because they know our brains are like this.

But I forced myself to stop.
I literally used box breathing.
Slowed myself down.
Read each word.

My brain still tried to override the process…scanning ahead, looking for shortcuts, but I kept myself on track.
I even caught a moment where something in the email scared me, but I reminded myself, “Whatever it is, you’ll handle it.”
And if I missed something because of my refusal to open emails earlier, I’ll just beg forgiveness or redo what needs to be redone. I start over a lot. You’d think I’d learn, but it doesn’t work that way.

Sometimes it feels like sleep paralysis, when you need to run or scream and nothing comes out.

But I kept going.
Slowed down.
Breathed.
Read.

The email said, “If you already use this feature, skip to step ___.”
And I realized: I already had it all set up.
None of this even applied to me.

And instead of being frustrated, I laughed.
Because the whole stressful journey led me back to the lesson:
Slow down.

Every time I slow down, I see how much I miss when I skim life.

So in a nutshell, what I learned today is that slowing down, truly slowing down, matters.
Controlling the anxiety, the hyper-awareness, the hyper-vigilance, the compulsive future-thinking.
And anytime I make even one step in the right direction, I document it.

Because something about this feels significant.
Like each small victory is part of a bigger pattern I’m finally starting to uncover.

Now…I’ll admit, I just looked back at the email date, Wednesday the 19th, and saw something about submitting summer something-or-other and I swear my stomach dropped.
Did I miss another deadline? Probably.

But hey, I’m trying to get better at this.
One slow breath at a time.