This week I fell victim to the cold that claimed my son last week. While it did not keep me from regular obligations, it did steal my focus for writing. I offer you this in absence of something from this week. It’s a reflection I wrote a couple of weeks ago. Several friends are struggling with neurodivergent and/or other mental health challenges right now, and I thought this might help them. I share this from my lifelong journey with ADHD as well as my current on with perimenopause. While I clearly see how ADHD has given me my superpowers, it also provides me with my greatest weaknesses. Posting for everyone who experiences negative self-talk.

I’m exhausted. I spend the last hour and a half tumbling down a steep hill in my mind, pushed hard by the bully who lives inside my mind. It takes very little to wake her: a quick comment from a loved one, a gentle tease from a friend, the realization I forgot to do something, or looking at the clock to find an hour had passed when I meant to sit for ten minutes. She naps lightly, and a gentle shake rouses her to get to work.

This morning, I took a nice walk in the early spring air, talking to a friend via video chat as I did. We talked and walked for 2.5 miles, and I felt my legs waking up under me. For too long, I have not walked or run regularly, nor exercised or lifted weights, and my body feels relief when I finally pay it some attention. I came inside to have something to drink and stretch before sitting down to write. My friend made a casual, playful comment about my losing time a bit and how I needed to sit and write. She meant only to tease and encourage me to do what I love because she believes in me and my ability to put word to paper. She could not know that my bully sleeps remarkably lightly these days.

Within thirty seconds of her comment, I tumbled down the steep slope paved with negative self-talk to the ground of a sense of failure. She couldn’t have known her comment would have this effect on me or that my bully has decided to be particularly active these days. First, I stumbled on the thought that I have terrible time management skills and often feel like I do not utilize my time as wisely as I should. That then pushed me into thoughts of being lazy and incompetent because I should be able to do much more in a day than I seem to accomplish. That then propelled me into thinking I had wasted my evening last night and my morning this morning because, over the course of those 16 hours, I had failed to write a single word nor do any household chores.

The thing about my bully is that she is never satiated. She doesn’t begin with one punishing thought in mind and then stops when she has made that known to my conscious self. Instead, she grows more voracious with every step as soon as she sees my weakness and susceptibility. Seeing my acceptance of failure to be productive on a Friday night and Saturday morning, she opened the door to allow my perceived failures as a mother to rush forth. Next door, she swung wide the loose gate that barely pins in thoughts of how I don’t do enough in my work on the farm to reach our family goals, which looped back around to my poor time management.

Within minutes, I neared the bottom of the hill, tripping on every imposter syndrome symptom, happily telling me I’ll never write anything of worth because others write better than I do and have more valuable things to say. A mere two steps later, I caught my toe on comparison, eagerly pointing out how other people succeed in their respective fields while also managing life in general. My bully pointed out how my intelligence means nothing in the face of such gross incompetence.

Can you imagine what happened to any benefit gained from my morning spent stretching, walking, and talking? That time turned on me, condemning me for being so selfish as to think I deserved to practice anything close to self-care. I redeemed it barely by arguing back that my children and my family need me to have a healthier body, so I did it not for me but for them. Granted, I made a weak argument, but one that successfully quieted the bully for a moment.

A cup of tea and many tears later, I sat on my bed, weakened and exhausted. Remarkably, my friend refuses to leave me when I do this (it is not a one-time occurrence) and doggedly remains online, talking me through the hard fall and messy landing. I won’t bore you with the added self-punishment that comes with realizing you’ve also wasted and ruined the time of a loved one by foolishly tumbling down a self-made mountain of shame.

Finally, I sat on my ass at the bottom of the slope, banged up and full of self-loathing. The bully, satisfied with her quick work of shredding my confidence, pulled the covers back over her head and fell asleep, pleased with her success. I made another cup of tea and continued to sit in a miserable state, attempting to transition to recovery while my friend talked me through it. I apologized the whole while. She insisted this was precisely why she is in my life and I in hers.

Eventually, I rose to make myself another cup of tea and breathed. I promised her I would push myself to write and make the most of the afternoon, apologizing again for stupidly wasting my time and hers. She gently told me to shut up and stop being so mean to myself, instead opting to do something I enjoy, namely writing. So I have.

But why write this, and why share it? My bully tried to sit up and tell me I would heap shame on myself by admitting such weakness to the world. She insisted it’s better to pretend that everything is always fine because that’s the lie the world wants to hear and read. Others don’t want to hear about mental weakness or incompetency but desire a solid example to set before them. She tells me I open myself to criticism and ridicule, undermining any minuscule authority I might assume for myself.

I’m telling her to go back to sleep. I want you to see that you aren’t alone in these thoughts. I want you to know that if you suffer from this same tendency, you’re in good company (if you will allow me that privilege to claim myself as such). I am a decent writer and love putting my thoughts on the screen and out there for others. But I also am human. I am perimenopausal and have ADHD, both of which feed the bully rather than sedate her.

My heart aches when I watch my kids and loved ones tumble in this same way. For years I hid my journey down this horrific mountain because I have been ashamed of it. I don’t afford myself the same grace and patience as I do others and cannot give myself the same affirmations that I happily lay out for others. My skills lie in helping slow the fall of others, even managing to break it sometimes, and not in decelerating my own descent.

Strangely, sometimes I think I need this hard tumble. Something inside me tells me I deserve to be punished for being a fool and a failure, and the fall feels like a much-needed purging. I can’t stop until I land hard at the bottom, bruised and battered. The bully in my brain demands sacrifice, like an itch that must be scratched or will grow more intense with time until I can’t concentrate on anything else.

Algorithms and data tracking being what they are, a reel came through my feed this morning that I now need to remember. An ADHD coach spoke about negative self-talk in ADHD patients and how we practice this habit until we perfect it. By indulging the bully, I practice the art of self-punishment, strengthening those neural pathways. The more I allow the bully to speak, the more I make her powerful and adept. The coach pointed out that we can only combat this habit by replacing it. By actively and intentionally practicing the discipline of self-affirmation, we weaken the adverse pathways and strengthen the positive ones.

This advice means I need to add affirmations into my daily routine, to which my bully begins to pipe up that I fail to do half the things I already know should be in my daily routine. I’m trying to tell her to shut up and sit down. She’s had enough attention today.

Friends, we cannot escape shame or self-destructive behavior. Most of us sometimes feel worthless, believing we don’t deserve any success, much less time for ourselves. Imposter syndrome and comparison happily jump into the fray, and we begin to think we have no value. At moments like this, I am eternally grateful for the people who have fought for me to allow them access into my mind to help slow or stop this process.

First, know you’re not alone in this behavior, especially if you suffer from a neurodifference like me. In my case, my ADHD not only adds to the negative self-talk but often decides to squander my hyper-focus superpower on it. Second, I hope you have people in your life who don’t leave you alone in these moments of falling. Consider risking some trust to allow someone else access to this part of your mind; then, you don’t fight the bully alone. Finally, I promise to try to be better about feeding my mind with self-affirmations to strengthen those neural pathways, and I hope you will consider doing the same. Every single one of us could use more genuinely positive thoughts daily. I can tell you that I think you all are amazing and worthy of these affirmations.