It’s Not That I Don’t Want to Work
A message popped up on my phone the other day from someone I used to work with. Just a few lines, asking whether I’d gone back to work. Whether I’d seen all the HR jobs going in my city. It was friendly. Casual. Well-meaning.
It sent me into a bit of a rabbit hole—not distress, just deep reflection about how ADHD and work fit into my life these days.
The truth is, I haven’t gone back to work in the traditional sense. And right now, I don’t know when I will.
The logistics don’t stack up
I have one child who’s being homeschooled—not by plan, but by necessity. And another who’s still very young and unlikely to tolerate daycare. She didn’t last time we tried, and there’s no sign she’s changed her mind.
It’s not that I don’t want to work. I do. But fitting into a Monday-to-Friday, 9-to-5 structure? That just doesn’t align with how our lives are set up right now.
It’s not about laziness—it’s about capacity
Since being diagnosed with ADHD, I understand my energy better. I know what drains me. I know that if I give my best to work, I’ll have nothing left for my family. I’ve lived that version of life before—and it nearly broke me.
So no, I’m not lazy. I’m protecting what little capacity I have.
What privilege looks like (and what it doesn’t)
Yes, I’m lucky in some ways. We adjusted our lives after becoming parents. We stopped eating out. We parked overseas travel. I don’t dye my hair or buy brand-name clothes anymore. But it wasn’t just luck—it was planning.
My younger self worked hard. I had a career. I saved. I bought a house. And because of those earlier choices, we were able to sell and buy within our means now. That has given us a little more flexibility—but it’s not the same as ease.
Falling into a career that never fit
I didn’t choose HR because it lit me up. I chose it because it seemed like a job that would lead somewhere. I’d finished a degree in a field that didn’t seem to open any doors, so I followed my sister’s suggestion and completed a postgrad diploma in HR.
I entered the profession, got promoted, worked hard. But I never really felt like I belonged there. I tried two pivots into roles I enjoyed more, but after my first parental leave, I fell back into the work I was “qualified” for.
Now I wonder—if I’d known about my ADHD earlier, would I have made different choices?
Torn between feminism and the forms
I’ve always identified as a feminist. So ticking the “unemployed” box on a form when I’ve been parenting full-time? It stings. It doesn’t reflect the reality of my days, my responsibilities, or my growth.
Parenting is work. Emotional work. Planning work. Advocacy work. It just doesn’t come with a payslip.
Watching my partner thrive
It makes sense that my husband continues in his role. It’s remote. It’s stable. He’s now a specialist in his field, and his income supports our family. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt sometimes—watching him grow while I feel a bit stuck.
He’s often stressed too. Work is his main source of rumination. So no, it’s not perfect on either side.
So… am I working? Rethinking ADHD and Work
I may not be back in the traditional workforce, but I’m working—on myself, on our home, on creating something sustainable that works with my brain and my family.
I’m still figuring out what ADHD and work can look like for me now—and how to do it on terms that protect my energy.
Of course I’d rather build something of my own (even though that’s scary). But in a way, my circumstances are nudging me in that direction. So… whatcha going to do?
That’s why I started Rewriting Normal. Because it’s not that I don’t want to work. I just want to work differently.
And maybe that’s not failure. Maybe that’s what real growth looks like.
If you’re curious how ADHD affects work performance, this article from ADD.org breaks down the hidden challenges many of us face in traditional job settings.