Self-Sabotage: An ADHD Survival Story (Mine)

I was 52 when I joined the civil service, the first time in my life I had to be properly orderly. Until then, my career was more like a game of hopscotch: teen jobs hopped in and out of, parenting in my thirties which steadied me, then years of physical jobs where there was always another branch to swing to when boredom struck.

But the civil service was different. Suddenly, I could not hide behind “winging it”. I had to show up, be structured, follow rules that did not bend just because my brain wanted to chase a new shiny. And that is when it hit me: maybe I was not just scatterbrained. Maybe I was broken.

The diagnosis finally came: ADHD. And let me tell you, it explained decades of “nearly there”, “oops, volunteered again”, “one more new notebook and I’ll definitely be productive this time”, and “I’ll start that diet after my birthday… no, after the holiday… well, maybe after Christmas”.

It did not magically cure the urge to sign up for twenty college courses at once, convinced that if I just became more educated I would somehow be clever enough not to forget things. You see the cycle.

It did not fix me (sadly, no glittery revelation where I woke up with a brand-new frontal lobe), but it did give me a map.

I tried the medication. Did not like it. CBT? Ha. I do not have the money, and if I wait for the NHS, I will have died of old age. So instead, I became my own research department: clumsy, stubborn, and occasionally brilliant.

The Many Costumes of Self-Sabotage

Here is what I have learned: self-sabotage is not a one-trick pony, it is a whole circus.

• Perfectionism: My favourite sabotage in party clothes. “I cannot start until I have the perfect plan.” Translation: I will never start.
• Overcommitting: My optimism has a cruel streak. “Future Me will definitely handle this.” Spoiler: Future Me is already under the duvet.
• People-pleasing: If calendars could groan, mine would. I used to say yes so fast you would think it was a reflex. Then I would quietly drown while other people’s tasks flourished.
• Negative self-talk: “You always do this. You will never change.” Imagine trying to run a marathon while a heckler follows you with a megaphone. That is my brain on sabotage.
• Task drift: Went to send one email. Ended up reorganising my Google Drive and alphabetising the biscuits.

What I Have Had to Learn (the Painful Way)

Habit change with ADHD is not glamorous. It is slow, frustrating, and requires sticking with things for longer than two days which, frankly, feels like torture when your brain loves novelty. But it is worth it.

I have learned that recognising the symptoms is non-negotiable. Just because I think I know my habits does not mean I do. Sometimes I need someone else, a friend who loves me enough to tell me the truth, to point out what I am doing. The trick is to hear it as kindness, not criticism. That is harder than it sounds, but it is part of survival.

I have also learned that coping mechanisms do not need to be fancy:

• Start with insultingly small steps.
• Externalise time (because my inner clock is a liar).
• Use scripts and routines even when they feel silly.
• Practise self-compassion like it is a muscle, because beating myself up never got the job done.

Where I Am Now

I am still learning. I still fall into the traps. I still say yes too often, lose track of time, and occasionally sabotage myself with a flourish. But now I notice it sooner. I forgive it faster. And I have scaffolding: friends, routines, small wins, to catch me when I trip.

This blog is not just for you. It is also for me. Because when I want to give up, I can come back here, reread my own words, and remember why I keep trying. ADHD does not make me lazy or hopeless. It makes me human, with a brain that needs scaffolding.

If any of this sounds familiar, you are in good company. I am still learning how to live with ADHD without letting self-sabotage drive the bus, and I will be sharing the wins, the wobblies, and the workarounds as I go. If you would like to walk this road with me (and maybe feel a bit less alone on yours), hit subscribe and join the journey.