What AuDHD Looks Like in My Everyday Life

I feel like when people hear the words autism or ADHD, they have a very specific picture in their mind.

Autism is sometimes viewed as someone who is quiet, extremely routine-oriented, or socially disconnected.

ADHD is often reduced to being distracted, energetic, or unable to sit still.

But living with both—often called AuDHD—is much more complicated than those stereotypes suggest.

Of course, AuDHD looks different for everyone. This is simply what it has looked like in my own life.

It can look like needing structure but struggling to maintain it. Wanting connection but feeling exhausted after socializing. Being deeply passionate about something one day and completely overwhelmed by it the next.

It can look like a contradiction.

And for a long time, I thought those contradictions meant something was wrong with me.

Growing up, I observed others excelling in areas where I felt like I was failing.

During school, I’d see others raise their hands, speak with confidence, and socialize effortlessly.

For me, I was the quiet one, twirling my hair or doodling in my notebook, just trying to ease the discomfort I always felt.

Any time I walked through the door to class, I’d watch the clock tick minute by minute, desperately waiting for it to be over.

It’s not that I didn’t want to learn. I loved learning. I enjoyed solo projects, essays, and even pop quizzes.

But once I got into the classroom, I was dealing with sensory overload.

The sound of people laughing and talking while the teacher was speaking made it almost impossible for me to focus. The bright lights made me anxious and sweaty. There were multiple perfumes filling the air.

I just couldn’t concentrate on anything.

I’d sit there restless, moving my legs and trying to readjust every couple of minutes.

I just felt pulled in two different directions.

One side of me was frozen in fear, constantly worried about being called on.

The other side was restless, unfocused, and struggling to stay interested in areas that bored me.

Everyone else seemed to enjoy themselves, while I was miserable every moment.

My Brain Is Full…All the Time

One of the hardest parts of AuDHD is that so much of it happens internally.

From the outside, I may look calm. I may seem like I’m listening, participating, or going through my day normally.

But inside, my brain can feel like there are twenty tabs open at once.

I’m constantly thinking about conversations I’ve had. Things I forgot to do. Things I need to remember. Random ideas. Future plans. Something embarrassing that happened years ago. Blurting into songs at random moments. A question I suddenly need to know the answer to.

It can feel like my brain never fully shuts off.

My mind always feels overloaded.

No matter how hard I try to turn it off, the spiral of thoughts continues.

I remember a time when I was just lying in bed, lights off, trying to fall asleep.

I had a few social gatherings days before, and I was trying to recharge my energy.

But I kept overthinking each situation.

All of the conversations I had.

The things I said.

The things I did.

It all resurfaced and became my focus for the rest of the night.

I was restless. Tossing and turning. Completely mortified that I had once again embarrassed myself by saying something stupid or acting like I was too much.

I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

That night became one where I needed more rest from my mind than from the social situations themselves.

There are so many moments where a thought pops into my head, and I suddenly feel so humiliated by myself.

Routine Feels Safe…Until It Doesn’t

One of the interesting parts of AuDHD is the constant push and pull between needing routine and craving something new.

The autistic side of me finds comfort in knowing what to expect, and routines help me feel grounded. They reduce the number of decisions I have to make. They create a sense of safety.

But ADHD can make that routine feel really boring after a while.

Suddenly, I want change.

I want to start something new.

I get excited about a new idea, project, hobby, or system.

And sometimes the routine that was helping me becomes the very thing I avoid.

There was a time when I was trying really hard to keep busy.

I had a friend who practically lived with me because he stayed over nearly every night.

He was the opposite of me—bubbly, energetic, and outgoing.

I was quiet, introverted, and enjoyed silence.

I think our personalities meshed really well because we were opposites.

But regardless, he helped keep me motivated to stick to a routine.

We would go to work, go straight to the gym, cook dinner, and chat the night away.

It left me feeling exhausted, but I kept going because I was trying to keep up with his pace.

To me, the gym was the worst part of it all.

Spending the day at work and going straight there was mental and physical overload. That’s usually the time when I need to rest.

Every time we went, I was miserable.

Even though I felt better afterward—like I had accomplished something—I still dreaded going back the next day.

Our routine became tiring.

It became too busy for me.

And jokingly, I only lasted a month.

That’s how routines, especially strict ones, often failed me.

I could never seem to follow through on anything I set out to do because I’d grow tired of it or lose the motivation to keep going.

For years, I saw this as inconsistency.

But now, I understand it’s simply part of how my brain works.

Executive Dysfunction Isn’t a Lack of Motivation

One of the biggest misunderstandings about ADHD is that people assume difficulty starting something means you don’t care.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

There are moments when I know exactly what I need to do.

The desire is there.

The frustration is there.

But sometimes, the bridge between knowing and doing feels impossible to cross.

That’s executive dysfunction.

It’s your brain struggling with the process of starting, organizing, prioritizing, or completing tasks.

For me, one task that always feels impossible to deal with is making and receiving phone calls.

It has always caused me a great deal of anxiety.

I get so nervous having to speak because it takes me longer than most people to process and understand the words being spoken.

Questions are hard to answer because I don’t know how to respond right away.

This often leads me to agreeing with everything just to appease the other person.

I don’t like awkward silence, so I try to fill the gaps by talking, even though I’m overthinking the entire conversation while I’m doing it.

Hearing my own voice sets me off course.

I lose my train of thought.

I just feel like I lack communication skills.

I’m never confident on the phone, and I do absolutely everything in my power to avoid them.

I had a job in public relations, and that required a lot of talking, a lot of “selling,” and I just couldn’t do it.

I think my boss could see my distress, so she let me off the hook a lot of the time because of it.

And for that, I’m forever grateful.

Talking on the phone isn’t just overwhelming internally—it also causes physical symptoms.

Nervous shaking.

Heart racing.

Nausea.

Headaches.

Essentially, a panic attack.

I don’t think speaking on the phone is something I’ll ever feel completely comfortable with.

It seems so natural and easy for others.

It makes me feel like I’m incapable.

Small Things Can Feel Surprisingly Big

AuDHD can also mean experiencing the world differently.

Things that might seem small to someone else can build up quickly.

Bright lights.

Loud environments.

Unexpected changes.

Multiple conversations happening at once.

Too many decisions.

When they pile up, it can feel like my brain has reached its limit.

For me, one example is traveling.

More often than not, my experience is overwhelming.

The airports frustrate me the most.

Every single time I’m there, I get overheated, frustrated, and irritated.

Waiting in line through security.

Going through security.

Waiting for the flight.

It’s all so overwhelming.

I had one experience where I had one of my worst meltdowns.

I was arriving back home from a trip to Portland, and I couldn’t find the exit out of the airport.

LAX is always doing construction, so the signs were very misleading.

I hate asking for help, but I got to a point where I was so frustrated and overwhelmed that I had to ask.

The person directed me down a long hallway that looked like it wasn’t the right way.

I yelled at him.

I told him he was misleading me.

I was crying hysterically, screaming down the halls in pure rage.

Turns out, it was the right direction.

He was following me, probably because I was causing a scene.

Once I got out, I realized I had lost my reading glasses.

And that did it for me.

The whole experience was horrible.

Afterward, I felt so ashamed, so humiliated, and so hard on myself for acting the way I did.

But looking back, I realize it wasn’t just frustration.

It was everything building up until I reached my limit.

Hyperfocus Is Both a Gift and a Challenge

One of the things I actually love about my brain is the ability to become deeply interested in something.

When something captures my attention, I can disappear into it.

For me, it can look like writing, blogging, cooking, learning, and researching.

Hours can pass without me realizing it.

Hyperfocus is a beautiful thing because it allows me to be deeply creative and passionate.

But it also comes with challenges.

Sometimes I forget to eat.

Sometimes I forget to take breaks.

And sometimes, I look up and realize much more time has passed than I expected.

I’ve been completely taken hostage by blogging.

I’m so dedicated, motivated, and passionate about it that it consumes me.

I spend hours, sometimes even all day, writing, creating, and researching until I become completely lost in it.

It’s really hard to pull me away.

And anytime I am, I get frustrated beyond belief.

Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t dissipated yet.

I typically grow tired of things rather quickly, but this one appears to be here to stay.

It’s become my passion.

My interest.

My hobby.

But it has taken me away from people, other pleasures, and other interests.

And for that, I feel guilty.

Socializing Takes More Energy Than People Realize

I love the people in my life.

I enjoy conversations, memories, and spending time with others.

But socializing often requires more energy than people realize.

The thing is, I’m not just having a conversation.

I’m processing sounds, reading facial expressions, thinking about what to say, when to say it, trying not to interrupt, managing sensory input, and keeping track of everything happening around me.

So even when I have a wonderful time, I need quiet afterward because my brain has been working hard to keep up.

After any social occasion, I need rest.

It could be a long day, or it could even be a twenty-minute conversation—I’ll still need time to recharge.

I thrive during my alone time.

I genuinely enjoy the peacefulness it brings because I don’t have to mask or try so hard.

For me, there’s nothing better than getting into comfy clothes, watching something familiar, and just disconnecting from the world.

To be honest, socializing drains me beyond belief.

I’m Still Learning

The more I learn about my AuDHD brain, the more I realize I wasn’t failing or falling behind—I was simply trying to navigate a world that wasn’t always designed for the way I experience it.

What is something you once saw as a flaw that you now understand differently?

“You are not a problem to be solved.”

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