The Center of Wellbeing

18/08/2026

💚🧡

AuDHD: WHEN YOU NEED ROUTINE… BUT ALSO NEED EVERYONE TO LEAVE YOU THE HELL ALONE 🤣

One of the most confusing things I hear from AuDHD women is:

“I NEED structure… but the minute something becomes a routine, I don't want to bloody do it anymore.”

And clinically, this makes perfect sense.

Because when autistic and ADHD traits coexist, you can end up trying to meet two seemingly contradictory needs.

Your autistic side may benefit from:

✨ predictability
✨ routine
✨ preparation
✨ knowing what's happening next
✨ fewer unexpected changes

While your ADHD side may be drawn towards:

✨ novelty
✨ stimulation
✨ freedom
✨ flexibility
✨ doing things when the motivation actually bloody arrives

So you create the perfect routine.

Colour code it.

Buy the planner.

Build the spreadsheet.

Schedule EVERYTHING.

Your autistic brain goes:

“Excellent. We are SAFE.”

And three days later your ADHD brain goes:

“This feels like prison. Burn it down.”

😂

Then comes the bit that causes the most damage:

We blame ourselves.

"Why can't I stick to anything?"

"Why am I so inconsistent?"

"Why do routines work for everyone except me?"

"Why can I be unbelievably productive one day and barely function the next?"

And because we assume the problem is discipline, we respond by creating MORE structure.

More rules.

More expectations.

More pressure.

Which can eventually make the whole thing even harder to maintain.

What can work better?

Something I often call:

PREDICTABLE FLEXIBILITY.

Instead of building a life where every hour is controlled, create enough structure to give your nervous system safety while deliberately leaving room for autonomy, novelty and fluctuating capacity.

Think:

ANCHORS + FLEXIBILITY + RECOVERY.

⚓ ANCHORS

These are the predictable parts of your day or week.

The things that reduce decision-making and create some stability.

Maybe that's:

A consistent morning routine.

Certain working days.

Regular meal times.

A weekly planning session.

A set bedtime routine.

Not 47 rules.

Just enough anchors to stop life feeling completely chaotic.

🌪️ FLEXIBILITY

This is where we deliberately leave breathing room.

Not every hour needs allocating.

Not every day needs maximising.

Leave space where you can choose what your brain has capacity for.

Productive?

Brilliant.

Want to start something creative?

Go for it.

Need to sit in your pyjamas watching the same programme you've already seen twelve times?

Also valid.

Flexibility isn't failure to follow the plan.

Flexibility IS part of the plan.

🔋 RECOVERY

And this is the bit neurodivergent women are spectacularly good at forgetting.

Stop scheduling your life based purely on whether there is technically space in the diary.

Start asking:

“What will this cost my nervous system?”

A three-hour social event isn't necessarily just three hours.

It might also require preparation beforehand and recovery afterwards.

A full day of client-facing work may require a lower-demand evening.

A busy weekend may mean Monday needs to look different.

That's not laziness.

That's capacity planning.

Your diary should reflect your nervous system — not just your available hours.

And THIS is where neurodivergent support needs to move beyond:

"Have you tried using a planner?"

Yes 👀

We have planners.

WE HAVE SEVENTEEN OF THEM. 🤣

The work is understanding:

What gives you stability?

What gives you autonomy?

What drains you?

What restores you?

Where are you repeatedly exceeding your capacity?

And what can realistically change?

Because the goal isn't to become brilliantly consistent at overriding yourself.

The goal is sustainability.

You may need routine.

You may also need freedom.

You may need productivity.

You absolutely need recovery.

Those things don't contradict each other.

The magic is learning how to build a life where all of them are allowed to exist.

💜

18/08/2026

💚🧡

#2 THINGS I THOUGHT WERE PERSONALITY TRAITS BEFORE I REALISED I WAS AuDHD…

Being chaotic, inconsistent and apparently incapable of maintaining a “normal” working week. 🤣

For YEARS I couldn't understand myself.

I desperately wanted structure.
I wanted plans, routines, organisation and predictability.
But then I'd create the routine...
and immediately want to escape from said routine.

I'd work like an absolute machine for days.
Be ridiculously productive.
Then suddenly I'd want to cancel everything, disappear somewhere, do something spontaneous or simply spend a day doing absolutely naff all.

And the guilt? INSANE.

Because surely successful adults are consistent?
Surely you get up Monday to Friday, work roughly the same hours, maintain roughly the same level of productivity and somehow just... keep doing that forever?

Apparently my brain did not receive that memo.

So I spent years trying to force myself into a working pattern that looked “normal.”

Until eventually my nervous system handed in its resignation.

Then came burnout.

And I don't mean:
“Ooh, I'm a bit tired. I need a weekend off.”

I mean deep, debilitating, almost career-ending burnout. The kind that can look and feel frighteningly like depression.

I couldn't productivity-hack my way out of it.

Something had to change.

Then came my diagnoses.

And suddenly something that had confused me for years made sense.

I wasn't failing at structure.
I had two competing neurological needs.

My autistic brain LOVES predictability, routine and knowing what the bloody plan is.

My ADHD brain occasionally looks at that beautifully organised plan and says:
“Absolutely not. Let's sod off and do something interesting.” 🤣

I'd spent years letting those two needs fight each other.

So I tried something that sounds ridiculous:

I scheduled spontaneity.

Yes. You heard me.

I PUT BEING SPONTANEOUS IN THE CHUFFIN DIARY. 😂

And it worked.

My working week now accommodates my brain.

Monday: I don't work. I need decompression time after the weekend and reset.

Tuesday & Wednesday: I work flat out. Appointments. Clients. Admin. Projects. Get s**t done.

Thursday: my wildcard day.

Thursday can be productive.
Thursday can become an adventure.
Thursday can involve a random idea that seemed reasonable at 8am.
Or Thursday can simply say:
“Nah. Can't be arsed today.”

And THAT is also allowed.

Friday: back to work. Full steam ahead.

It works because I know Saturday, Sunday and Monday are coming afterwards.

I've stopped trying to force consistency from a brain whose capacity isn't consistent.

Instead, I've created predictable flexibility.

Structure for the autistic part of me.
Freedom and novelty for the ADHD part.
Enough recovery for the whole bloody nervous system.

Now I know what you're thinking:

“That's alright for you, Gemma. You're self-employed.”

And you're absolutely right.

Not everybody has the luxury of redesigning their entire working week.

But that doesn't mean you can't look at the structure you DO have and ask:

“What could make this more sustainable for my brain?”

Could you request flexible working?
Change your start or finish times?
Work from home some of the time?
Group demanding tasks together?
Protect recovery time after intense days?
Reduce unnecessary meetings or sensory demands?
Ask for clearer written instructions or more predictable scheduling?
Speak to your employer about reasonable adjustments?

You might not be able to redesign your job.

But sometimes small changes can dramatically reduce the neurological energy you're spending trying to survive your working week.

And that's something I wish I'd understood much earlier.

Because I spent YEARS judging myself against people whose brains don't have the same competing needs as mine.

I thought I needed more discipline.
More organisation.
More consistency.

What I actually needed?

A working life designed around the brain I have.

My week probably wouldn't work for everybody.

It doesn't need to.

It works for me.

And after experiencing what happens when I repeatedly override my own limits...

I'll take slightly unconventional over completely burnt out any day. 💜

18/08/2026

💚🧡

NOT BEING FUNNY BUT…

Can we discuss:

“I'm just being honest.”

Because why is that sentence so often followed by something nobody actually asked you? 😂

“I’m just being honest, but I don’t really like your hair like that.”

Fantastic, Carol.

Fortunately I didn't bring a clipboard round asking everyone to score the fringe.

“I’m just being honest, I think you’ve put a bit of weight on.”

Cheers.

Any other breaking news from the Department of Things I Own a Mirror For? 😭

And my personal favourite:

“I'm just the sort of person who says it how it is.”

Ohhhhh.

So you're a truth teller.

A fearless warrior of authenticity.

The people's flipping whistleblower?

Except weirdly, these people never seem compelled to “say it how it is” when the truth is:

“You look really good today.”

“You handled that brilliantly.”

“I was wrong.”

“You're better at this than me.”

“I think I might actually be the problem here.”

👀😂

Apparently radical honesty only activates when there's an opportunity to tell somebody something mildly insulting.

Funny that.

Because there IS a difference between being honest and just saying every thought that wanders through your head.

I can think your new wallpaper looks like the inside of a Victorian brothel.

I don't necessarily have to tell you.

That's not dishonesty.

That's having social skills. 😂

And sometimes honesty absolutely IS necessary.

If somebody asks your opinion, tell them.

If someone's behaviour is hurting you, tell them.

If your mate is about to marry an absolute weapon, for the love of God TELL HER.

But unsolicited commentary about people's bodies, relationships, parenting, clothes, homes, careers or life choices isn't automatically acceptable because you wrapped it in:

“I'm only being honest.”

Honesty without kindness isn't a personality trait.

Sometimes it's just being a real do**he with excellent PR.

So here's today's question…

What's the most outrageous thing somebody has said to you immediately after “I'm just being honest”? 👀🍿

I feel like these comments could be SPECTACULAR. 😂

🎙️ Not Being Funny But…

17/08/2026

💚🧡

Why do we say “I hate drama”… when some of us are absolutely RIVETED by it? 😂

NOT BEING FUNNY BUT…

Can we discuss people who say:

“I just hate drama.”

Do you?

DO YOU REALLY? 👀😂

Because you've somehow got the full story.

You've got screenshots.

You know what she said.

You know what he said.

You know what she apparently said about what he said.

You've listened to a 7-minute voice note entitled “I'm not getting involved BUT…”

And now you're updating me like you're the BBC News at Ten.

But you hate drama.

Obviously. 😂

And actually, I think most humans are a little bit fascinated by other people's chaos.

We rubberneck arguments.

We read comment sections we KNOW are going to cheese us off.

Someone says “You'll never guess what's happened…” and suddenly we've got nowhere else to be.

Even better:

“I probably shouldn't tell you this…”

Well now you absolutely have to!!

I've cancelled my afternoon. 😭

Maybe it's not even the drama itself we love.

Maybe humans are just naturally nosy little creatures trying to understand everybody else's social world.

Who's together?

Who's fallen out?

Who said what?

Who behaved terribly?

And — crucially —

was I right about them all along? 😂

Because there is no dopamine quite like discovering that the person you've privately thought was a k**b for three years has finally done something k**b-ish enough for everyone else to notice.

Suddenly you're sitting there like:

FINALLY. THE JURY HAS RETURNED. ⚖️

So perhaps we should stop pretending we're above it.

You don't necessarily create drama.

You don't necessarily want drama in your own life.

But somebody else's drama?

From a safe distance?

With a brew?

That's basically theatre. 😂

So come on then…

Are you genuinely drama-free — or are you just a spectator rather than a participant? 👀🍿

🎙️ Not Being Funny But…

17/08/2026

💚🧡

STOP WAITING UNTIL YOU'RE OVERWHELMED TO ACCOMMODATE YOURSELF. 💜

One of the biggest things I work on with neurodivergent women isn't how to cope better with overwhelm.

It's learning to notice it before we completely explode 🤯

Because many of us don't realise we're overwhelmed when we're at 40%.

Or 50%.

Or even 70%.

We notice when we're at approximately:

GET EVERYONE AWAY FROM ME BEFORE I LOSE MY SHIZZLE %.

And by then?

The headphones aren't enough.

The breathing exercise can p**s off.

Someone asking “Are you okay?” may actually become the final straw.

Your nervous system has already gone past its window of tolerance.

Overwhelm usually whispers before it screams.

The problem is that neurodivergent women often become exceptionally good at ignoring the whispers.

Especially if you've spent years masking.

You keep talking.

Keep working.

Keep parenting.

Keep smiling.

Keep saying “I'm fine.”

Meanwhile your body may already be telling you:

✨ you're becoming unusually irritable
✨ conversation is getting harder
✨ noises suddenly feel MUCH louder
✨ you're clenching your jaw
✨ you're getting hot or uncomfortable
✨ you're losing words
✨ you're zoning out
✨ small decisions feel ridiculously difficult
✨ you don't want anyone touching you
✨ you're becoming more rigid about plans
✨ everything is starting to feel like a demand

None of those things mean you're being difficult.

They may be your early warning system.

And THIS is where I want you to start intervening.

Not at crisis point.

Earlier.

If you're at 50–60% capacity...

Put the headphones on.

Leave the room for ten minutes.

Eat something.

Drink something.

Reduce the sensory input.

Cancel the unnecessary task.

Tell someone:

“I'm getting overloaded. I need a bit of quiet.”

Change the plan.

Go home earlier.

Stop adding demands.

Because accommodations aren't something you have to earn by becoming sufficiently distressed.

You don't have to wait until you're crying in the bathroom before you're allowed to leave.

You don't have to wait for a meltdown before putting your headphones on.

You don't have to completely burn out before reducing your workload.

And you don't have to prove you couldn't cope before deciding something was too much.

Try this today:

Ask yourself three times:

“What percentage am I at?”

Don't overthink it.

Just give yourself a number.

Then ask:

“What could I change NOW that might stop that number getting higher?”

That little check-in can be incredibly useful for neurodivergent people who struggle to recognise their internal state until things become intense.

The goal isn't to create a life where you're never overwhelmed.

That's neither realistic nor particularly helpful.

The goal is to get better at recognising:

“I'm heading towards my limit.”

And responding to yourself before you crash into it.

That's not being dramatic.

That's not giving in.

That's nervous-system management.

And it's one of the most useful skills you can learn when you stop trying to force a neurodivergent brain to cope like everybody else's.

💜

17/08/2026

💚🧡

#1 THINGS I THOUGHT WERE PERSONALITY TRAITS BEFORE I REALISED I WAS AuDHD…

Apparently I don't actually love busy places. I love alcohol. 🤣

Okay, hear me out...

For YEARS I would happily go to concerts, packed bars, clubs, festivals, busy restaurants — all the places you're supposed to go when you're sociable and outgoing.

And I genuinely thought I loved them.

Except there was nearly always one important ingredient:

🍷 Alcohol.

Take the alcohol away?

Suddenly I'm stood there thinking:

Why the HECK is everyone so loud?

Why is that person touching me?

Why are there seventeen conversations happening simultaneously?

Why are the lights doing THAT?

Where am I supposed to stand?

What am I supposed to do with my hands?

How long are we staying?

And WHY CAN I HEAR THAT MAN CHEW FROM THREE TABLES AWAY?! 😭😂

Late-diagnosed me has realised something quite uncomfortable:

There are environments I thought I enjoyed where I may actually have been using alcohol to help myself tolerate them.

And that makes a hell of a lot more sense now.

Because alcohol can temporarily reduce inhibition and social self-monitoring and make us less aware of some of the discomfort we're experiencing.

For some neurodivergent people, that can make overwhelming social environments feel easier to tolerate.

Less analysing.

Less masking.

Less noticing every bloody thing.

More ability to just... be there.

Of course, alcohol isn't actually regulating the nervous system in a healthy way. It can also make things like sleep, mood, impulsivity and emotional regulation significantly worse afterwards.

But when you don't know you're neurodivergent?

You don't necessarily think:

"I'm experiencing sensory overload and using alcohol to help me tolerate this environment."

You think:

"I'm just more fun after a drink."

👀

And THAT is one of the fascinating parts of being diagnosed later in life.

You start looking back at things you thought were simply part of your personality and asking:

Did I actually enjoy that...

or did I develop a coping strategy that made it tolerable?

Saturday I went to a concert.

And yes, I had a drink. 😂

But something was different this time.

I understand my brain a hell of a lot better now.

If I needed to move away from the crowd, I did.

If I needed a bit of quiet, I found it.

If my social battery started dying, I didn't immediately assume there was something wrong with me.

And if I felt overwhelmed, I didn't force myself to pretend I was having THE BEST NIGHT EVER simply because everyone around me seemed to be.

Most importantly, I didn't need to drink myself past my own sensory limits just to make the environment tolerable.

And I still had a bloody brilliant time.

That's perhaps one of the biggest things diagnosis has changed for me.

I'm not necessarily changing who I am.

I'm not stopping doing things I love.

I'm not wrapping myself in cotton wool and avoiding anything remotely overstimulating.

I'm changing the conditions under which I expect myself to do them.

I'm noticing when I've had enough.

I'm accommodating myself rather than overriding myself.

I'm recognising sensory overload for what it is rather than automatically trying to numb it.

And I'm learning that I don't have to push myself past my limits just because everyone else appears perfectly comfortable.

Turns out I'm not antisocial.

I'm not boring.

And I haven't suddenly become an old woman who can't handle a night out. 🤣

My nervous system has probably always hated parts of this s**t.

I just spent years drowning out what it was trying to tell me.

Now?

I'm finally listening. 💜

17/08/2026

“I’M FINE.”

Ah yes.

The two little words responsible for approximately 73% of emotional suppression. 😂

Sometimes we genuinely are fine.

And sometimes “I’m fine” actually means:

“I don't have the energy to explain it.”

“I don't want to burden anyone.”

“If I start talking about it, I might cry.”

“Other people have bigger problems.”

“I've pushed it down so successfully I don't actually know what I feel anymore.”

We can become incredibly good at functioning while struggling.

Going to work.

Looking after the kids.

Answering messages.

Making dinner.

Laughing with friends.

Getting everything done.

And because we're still functioning, we convince ourselves that whatever we're carrying can't be that serious.

But coping isn't the same as being okay.

Avoiding difficult emotions can sometimes help us get through the immediate moment — and occasionally that's exactly what we need to do.

The problem comes when “I'll deal with that later” becomes six months, three years, and an entire personality built around keeping busy so we never have to sit still long enough to feel anything. 👀

Emotions aren't inconveniences that need deleting.

They're information.

Sometimes anxiety is telling us we're overwhelmed.

Sometimes anger is telling us a boundary has been crossed.

Sometimes sadness is asking us to acknowledge a loss.

Sometimes exhaustion is telling us we've been strong for far too bloody long.

You don't have to analyse every emotion.

You don't have to turn every bad day into a healing journey.

But occasionally, instead of automatically saying “I'm fine,” try asking yourself:

“Actually… what AM I feeling right now, and what might I need?”

You might be surprised by the answer.

And if the answer feels too big to carry alone, that's exactly what support is for.

🧡

14/08/2026

THE RIGHT PEOPLE CAN CHANGE THE WAY YOU SEE YOURSELF.

Look at the picture.

The horse isn't suddenly growing wings.

But surrounded by something different, its reflection changes.

And there's something rather powerful in that.

The people we spend our lives around can profoundly influence how we see ourselves.

Spend enough time around people who criticise you, minimise you, compete with you, question everything you do, or make you feel like you're somehow too much...

And eventually, you can start shrinking yourself.

You become quieter.

You second-guess decisions you once trusted yourself to make.

You apologise for things that don't require an apology.

You start wondering whether maybe you really ARE the problem.

But the opposite happens too.

Spend time around people who encourage you, challenge you kindly, celebrate your successes, tell you the truth with love, respect your boundaries and remind you who you are when you've temporarily forgotten...

And something changes.

You start seeing yourself differently.

That's why the relationships we choose matter so much for our mental health.

The right people won't fix you.

They won't agree with everything you do.

And healthy relationships certainly aren't about surrounding yourself with people who tell you you're wonderful 24/7.

They're about being around people who create enough emotional safety for you to grow rather than shrink.

People who don't clip your wings because your growth makes them uncomfortable.

People who see possibility in you when all you can currently see are your limitations.

So perhaps there's a question worth asking yourself today:

Who do I become around the people closest to me?

More confident?

More peaceful?

More yourself?

Or smaller, anxious and constantly questioning your worth?

Because sometimes protecting our mental health isn't only about changing what's happening inside us.

Sometimes we need to take a bloody good look at what's surrounding us too.

🧡

13/08/2026

SOMETIMES YOU DON'T NEED MORE SLEEP. YOU NEED LESS TO CARRY.

Have you ever had a decent night's sleep and woken up thinking...

"Why the hell am I STILL tired?"

Because not all exhaustion comes from lack of sleep.

Sometimes you're tired because your brain has been running approximately 847 tabs simultaneously.

You're remembering everyone's appointments.

Thinking about money.

Managing work.

Worrying about someone you love.

Replying to messages.

Making decisions.

Keeping the house functioning.

Trying to regulate your own emotions while supporting everybody else's.

And somewhere amongst all of that, you're wondering why an early night hasn't magically fixed you.

That's emotional and cognitive load.

Our brains have a finite amount of capacity. When we're constantly planning, worrying, anticipating, remembering, problem-solving and emotionally supporting others, that capacity gets depleted.

And it can look like:

🧠 Struggling to concentrate
🧠 Becoming irritated by tiny things
🧠 Forgetting things you'd normally remember
🧠 Feeling overwhelmed by simple decisions
🧠 Wanting everyone to please just STOP TALKING TO YOU for ten bloody minutes 😂
🧠 Feeling exhausted despite technically having rested

Sometimes self-care isn't adding another lovely thing to your already ridiculous to-do list.

Sometimes it's removing something.

Cancel the unnecessary plan.

Say no.

Ask somebody else to deal with it.

Leave the washing until tomorrow.

Stop answering messages for an hour.

Let something be good enough instead of perfect.

And perhaps ask yourself:

"What am I carrying right now that I don't actually need to be carrying?"

Because you cannot continually regulate an overloaded nervous system by simply becoming better at tolerating the overload.

Sometimes the load itself needs to change. 🧡

12/08/2026

CONFIDENCE ISN’T WALKING INTO EVERY ROOM THINKING YOU’RE AMAZING.

Sometimes confidence is simply knowing:

“Whatever happens in that room, I’ll be able to handle myself.”

We often think confidence means being fearless, outgoing, certain, or completely comfortable in our own skin.

It doesn’t.

Confidence is built through self-trust.

It’s trusting yourself to cope if something goes wrong.

To survive somebody not liking you.

To make a decision without needing everyone else to approve it.

To say “I don’t know.”

To try something you might not be brilliant at.

To make a mistake without turning it into evidence that you're a complete failure.

And THAT is where confidence actually grows.

Not from waiting until you feel ready.

From repeatedly showing your brain:

🧡 I can feel nervous and still do it.
🧡 I can get something wrong and recover.
🧡 I can disappoint somebody and still be a good person.
🧡 I can hear somebody else's opinion without making it my identity.
🧡 I don't need to be the best in the room to deserve to be in it.

If you've spent years criticising yourself, comparing yourself, people-pleasing, or needing reassurance, confidence probably won't arrive one morning like some magical personality transplant.

You build it.

One uncomfortable decision.
One boundary.
One risk.
One moment of backing yourself at a time.

And eventually something changes.

You stop asking:

“What if I can't do this?”

And start thinking:

“What if I can? And even if it goes t**s up, I'll deal with it.” 😂

That's confidence.

Not believing everything will go perfectly.

Knowing you’ll still be okay when it doesn’t. 🧡