Protecting Your Energy When the World Won’t Slow Down
Firstly, I just want to give a shout out to any readers who have mastered the art of understanding the unpredictable beast that is ND energy. A confusing little fecker that might give you a whiff of hope that there’s some petrol in the tank… and then you do the most mediocre of chores and feel like your brain has been turned into a smoothie.
If you haven’t mastered that, then… well, how the devil are you going to protect it if you don’t even know how it works? Just kidding. As you were. Keep reading.
So, let’s assume you’ve got at least some understanding of how your energy behaves, in all its unpredictable random sparkliness. The next step is protecting it. Because you’re living in a world that won’t slow down. Not even a teeny bit. Not even if you ask it really nicely.
And this is the bit no one wants to talk about. The world isn’t going to adjust itself around your capacity. Deadlines still exist, clients still want quick replies, and life in its many forms keeps moving at the same pace regardless of how you’re feeling. Which is why protecting your energy isn’t optional. It’s sanity maintenance.
And when you’re neurodivergent, then that’s double funzies, because your energy isn’t linear. It fluctuates. It spikes. It drops. It goes out for a pint of milk and comes back 3 days later. It’s that crazy unpredictable drunk uncle that you don’t want at your wedding.
So, this isn’t about escaping the world. It’s about learning how to stay in it without acquiring yourself a one way ticket to burnout town!
The world isn’t built for you. Accept it…and move on
Most systems are built on the assumption that energy is stable. That you wake up, work, produce, and repeat. Nice, neat, and predictable. Lovely for people whose brains behave like that. Big fan. Congratulations to them. Except that’s not how a lot of ND brains work.
Some days you can fly through work like you’ve unlocked a secret level of existence and suddenly you are unstoppable. Other days, opening your laptop feels like a hostage negotiation between your fingers and your brain. Same person. Same workload. Completely different capacity.
And yet… none of those changes how the world responds to you. You’re still expected to show up, deliver, reply, and keep things moving — even on the days where your brain has very much not signed off on that plan. No one pops up and says, “Ah, I see your brain has gone offline today, let’s circle back when it returns.”
The problem is that external demand stays consistent, while your capacity didn’t get the memo. So, when those two things collide, pressure builds. And when that pressure sits there long enough, it turns into stress, then exhaustion, and eventually burnout.
Which is why this whole “just push through” approach doesn’t really work for brains like ours. (It barely works for anyone, to be honest, but that’s a rant for another day.)
Urgency will eat your energy if you let it
One of the biggest drains on your energy isn’t actually the work itself — it’s urgency. Everything suddenly feels important. Everything feels like it needs doing now. Everything feels like it will fall apart if you don’t respond immediately.
But a lot of that urgency isn’t real. It’s artificial deadlines, other people’s poor planning, and those “quick favours” that somehow take half your day and leave you wondering why you opened your laptop in the first place.
If you’ve spent years being reliable, helpful, and responsive, you’re probably very good at jumping straight into action mode without even questioning it. It feels productive. It feels responsible. It also quietly sucks the life out of you.
The problem is that urgency pushes you into adrenaline. And adrenaline is great … in small, occasional bursts. As a lifestyle choice? Less ideal. You end up running on “just get through it” energy, which works, right up until it really, really doesn’t.
A small but surprisingly effective shift is asking yourself: “is this actually urgent?” Not “does it feel urgent” but is it genuinely time-critical. Because those two things are very different. Even if your brain insists they’re identical.
Energy boundaries are different from emotional ones
I’m the queen when it comes to chatting about boundaries. It’s like I discovered them, 51 years later in my life, and now they are my specialist subject. In fact, it pretty much is that! But most of those conversations are about emotional ones. Protecting your feelings, managing relationships, that sort of thing. Energy boundaries are slightly different. They’re about protecting your capacity.
Because you can technically have the time to do something, but not the energy. You might look at your calendar and think, “Well, I’ve got an hour free,” but your brain is already fried, your sensory load is maxed out, and you’ve made approximately 47,000 decisions already that day. That hour is not usable. It’s like a mirage hour.
This is where one of the most useful sentences you’ll ever learn comes in: “I don’t have capacity for that.” Not followed by your life story. Not turned into something apologetic, or a giant discussion. Just that.
It sounds simple, and it is. It’s also wildly uncomfortable if you’re used to over-explaining, over-justifying, and making sure everyone else is fine first. But it works. Quietly, efficiently, and without wringing out what little energy you had left.
Saying no without it being a 3-part drama
If you’re anything like me, saying no doesn’t just happen. It comes with a full internal production. You draft the explanation, rehearse the tone, anticipate their reaction, and try to make it sound reasonable, valid, and entirely non-offensive to anyone, ever.
The irony being that by the time you’ve finished explaining, you’ve used more energy than the original task would have taken. How’s that for efficiency…or lack of it!
The truth is most of that explanation is for us. It’s working hard to make the discomfort of setting a boundary feel safer. But “no” doesn’t require a backstory. It doesn’t require a breakdown of your week, your mental state, or your entire life context. As Stu taught me once, it’s an entire sentence. And the more you practise it, the less energy you leak trying to make your boundaries palatable for everyone involved. I promise you it starts to feel easier the more you try it on for size. In fact, it’s so incredibly freeing. Because it’s you having your own back.
Not everything is worth the cost anymore
One of the biggest shifts that comes with protecting our energy is realising that just because something is possible, it doesn’t mean it’s sustainable.
We ‘could’ say yes. We ‘could’ take it on. We ‘could’ push through.
But then we could also decide to deep clean our entire house at 11pm on a Tuesday night. Half of my teenage years were spent piling the entire contents of my bedroom floor onto my bed at about 10om, then crying and putting it all back onto the floor. The question is… should we?
Because every “yes” is stealing from a limited resource. And if you’re not consciously deciding where that energy goes, it gets spent by default. Usually on the loudest, most urgent, or most guilt-inducing thing in front of you.
Protecting your energy means getting honest about trade-offs. Letting go of “shoulds”, looking properly at commitments, and actively choosing long-term stability over the short-term approval that we can often crave. Sweet dopamine.
Sometimes that means making decisions that don’t look particularly impressive on paper but feel a lot safer in our body. Which, frankly, should be the only measure that really counts.
Recovery doesn’t protect itself
One of the sneakiest things about energy is how quickly we decide we’re “fine again”.
You have one good day. Maybe two if you’re feeling particularly wild. You wake up, your brain is cooperating, you answer a few emails without wanting to lie down afterwards, and suddenly you’re like, “Right. I’m back. Power Rangers…let’s go!.”
And off you go. Rebooking everything. Saying yes to things. Catching up on the 463 tasks you’ve been avoiding. Possibly reorganising a cupboard for emotional reasons. Fully convinced you’ve turned a corner.
Newsflash. You haven’t turned a corner. You’ve just found the exit of the car park.
Because early recovery energy is not a full tank. It’s not even half a tank. It’s more like your car has stopped making that alarming flashing noise and you’ve gone, “Great, let’s drive to Scotland.” You’re out of the danger zone. That’s it. But you’re not on the home straight yet.
And this is where we accidentally undo all the progress we’ve made. Not because we’re reckless (well, some of us can be!), but because it feels so good to have energy back that we immediately spend it. All of it. In one go. Like a toddler with birthday money.
Then we’re surprised when we crash again.
Protecting your energy at this stage means doing something deeply unnatural: not filling the space. It means leaving gaps. Building buffers. Resisting the urge to “catch up” on everything all at once. Saying no to your old pace, even when your brain is loudly insisting that this time will be different. (It won’t. Your brain is a liar when it’s excited.)
Recovery isn’t just about getting your energy back. It’s about not immediately burning through it the moment it returns.
When boundaries feel like a scratchy jumper (and they will)
Protecting your energy isn’t just practical — it’s deeply inconvenient on an emotional level. Because when you start doing it properly, things come up. Guilt. Fear. That slightly sick feeling that you’ve just disappointed someone. And sometimes actual pushback from people who were very happy with the old version of you. The one that was constantly nodding like their head wasn’t attached properly. Saying yes, staying available, and overextending herself. Funny that.
That doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It means you’ve stopped being as convenient. And yes, it does feel uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. Like you’ve put on a jumper that technically fits but is somehow both itchy and judging you.
You’ll be tempted to soften it, to explain more, to just do the thing this once because it’s easier than holding the boundary. But every time you do that, you teach people (and yourself) that your limits are optional. The real work here isn’t setting the boundary. It’s holding it when it would be much easier not to. This is a huge part of my life story, so believe me when I say I get it. But I’m also now boundaries number one fan!
You don’t have to live at the pace of everything around you
The world might not slow down. That’s true. Deeply annoying, but true. But that doesn’t mean you have to speed up to match it, because that’s how you ended up here in the first place. Remember?
Protecting your energy long-term often means your life looks a bit different. Less stuff, more intention. Not churning your output like a sausage factory. Which, depending on your previous operating style, can feel suspiciously like you’re “not doing enough”. But you are. You’re just not doing everything, thank god.
And yes, sometimes it can feel like you’re not keeping up with everyone else. Like you’re dawdling while the rest of the world is power-walking past you in Lycra, with a podcast on 3x speed. But I can promise you this: they’re exhausted too. They’re just better at pretending they’re not.
What you gain instead is something far more useful: stability, sustainability, and the ability to keep going without repeatedly crashing and having to rebuild yourself from scratch every few months. This isn’t about doing less for the sake of it. It’s about doing what actually works for your brain, your body, and your life in the long term.
Because if it only works when your brain’s on fire and your nervous system is halfway out the window, it doesn’t actually work.
After Burnout: What Real Recovery Looks like for NDs
ROLL UP, ROLL UP. THE WILDEST SHOW IN TOWN HAS ARRIVED! YOU’VE GOT A VIP, FRONT ROW SEAT TO SEE CRASH & THE BURNOUT BLUES BAND, featuring songs from their greatest hits album, like “Marshmallow Brain” and who could forget “ANGRY FOR NO DISCERNABLE REASON!” plus that all-time classic “Zero spoons & fucks to give.”
I know, I paint a very rosy picture of the old ND “Burnout”, funtimes, shitz ‘n’ gigz… but until you understand exactly how your energy arrives and how you need to manage it, you will repeat the same pattern of burnout, over and over and over…
Ask me how I know? Yes! ::ding ding ding:: correct answer, I know, because I’ve been there several times, full send to destination fucked (said in “Matt Rose Aussie Guy Voice”).
I’ve been through the fully immersive “Life Hurricane” simulator on several occasions, from humble dust devil, to full on Cat5 Katrina and every time I reflect on how we got here and clearly see all the warning signs. From the first roof tile rattling all the way to “Oh no, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore…” in what seems like a blink of an eye.
But the real kicker is yet to land, when you inevitably crash-n-burn harder than a cut-price electric car using auto-steer, and you are absolutely wiped emotionally, physically, spiritually. You surface, as addicts might identify, with “a moment of clarity” (I know I did), as you realise that it all has to change, everything, what came before was unsustainable. The way you found that out was to Live-Action Role Play* using a strategy that required an ill-advised amount of energy burnt in an unreasonably short time-frame. (*hat tips to the LARPers!)
It’s called BURNout for a reason… You have literally burnt through your entire stock of “coping” and now have to rethink the overall game play, whilst attempting to continue living, earning and remaining sane.
And, as you lie there in that fragile state, where breakfast is a life goal, and “dressed before noon” is about as likely as winning a national lottery every day for a year, you realise a horrible truth.
The burnout is not done with you yet, oh no buster… it’s taken you everything you have, maybe even more than you had, to get here. The real challenge begins once you hit the eye of the storm. This calm center allows you to reflect from a vantage point, and assess the size of the storm, and you realise, whatever the magnitude there’s only one route to recovery… The way back is through the other side…
Staring at a blurred wall of thought and vortex of emotions, you’re not wrong to flinch away. Whatever your route to burnout there’s going to be a fair amount of shame and inward blame stacked up ready for you to process and no-one claps their hands together and exclaims “Goody gum-drops, lets play the blame and shame game!“. Here definitely be dragons, and in fact probably these dragons are mere dragonlets of the massive monstrous demon dragons locked behind the door marked “Childhood”. Those deep, ominous rumbling sounds are the bass-notes echoing through your head. Pulsing as your heart beats, an energy hungry beast that gives your enemies a 2X damage for every one hit and wakes you at 2am. Sweating.
It’s natural to want to shrink away. Your bed is safety, the duvet will protect you from the hooded claw, and, who knows, even keep some vampires from your door. But, that’s a lot to ask of bed linen, even if it is from M&S. Lying, passively and waiting for the pressure to release is not progress, that’s stagnation, rotting away in the depressed, comatose lethargy that burnout brings.
It is such a warm and tempting place to remain, forever at the eye of it all, life moving around you, whatever little routine or safety net you draw around you is “enough”. It is… for now. But do not get stuck there, that way victimhood lies, and that is living hell. A learned helplessness, of being coddled and cossetted. It’s tempting.
But you need to know, and fully accept that no one’s coming to help you.
That was my huge revelation from my first round of therapy, after my first major burnout, when my Dr’s were calling my absolute lethargy “depression”, and my all-gas, no brakes bouts of “mania”, were “Nothing to worry about. Drink less caffeine and get more sleep.” (what a Dr. actually said to me).
Oh, and there’s also the insomnia, yeah, “get more sleep“… good one.
At some point you have to make the effort, it’s you and only you. Not your partner, not your family, kids or friends. YOU.
You have to get yourself “well”, what that looks like is unknowable at this point, just accepting that this is on you is enough. When you have hit rock-bottom and the only way is up** an uphill struggle, right when you are at a point when you have no capacity for creating a rational strategy to make your way back is going to look like the least “do-able” decision.
This is why you have a plan before you go in, creating a disaster recovery plan in the middle of a disaster will give you a grab bag of dumb decisions and half-assed ideas. All the while depleting what little energy you already have. Again, hello, been there, done that. 1 star, do not recommend.
The acceptance of that truth will unlock everything else, being kind to yourself throughout will speed up the recovery. Word of warning, there’s “being kind” i.e. nope-ing the family reunion, or skipping the friend’s brunch and then there’s “slacking off on the road to recovery” with behaviours such as “one more hour of doomscrolling AuDHD memes before bed” and “Like my pants, this shirt will do another three days before it needs washing“.
I find that a strict routine prevents slippage of progress. My plan when I fought back the first time was to regain all I had lost, the focus, the 18 hour days for 12 weeks straight. I was a machine, I just forgot to get an oil change, now I am back I am BACK! No, do not do that – it leads to some very fun prescription narcotics that “mellow you the fuck out” as my mate once said. When you recover, do not build the same bonfire just to burn it all down again…
** Never got why that song got the airtime it did, if the only way is indeed “up”, then you must be at rock-bottom, right? Why then are they so cheerfully singing about it?
My guidance would be; bed by 10pm, up by 6am, or 7am on weekends. Bed has to be made, bed clothes folded. 1pt of water, with pink rock salt (for the sodium and trace iron) and lemon juice (helps regulate bowel!), coffee and breakfast. Then get dressed.
That’s my morning and as long as I am in my office by 10am the morning is won! I am often in by 9am, but even though I am more regulated now than I have ever been, I do not chastise a slow morning, these are the perks of the self-employed life. As long as I am not letting anyone down, I can get in at 10 if I want. A “luxury” I afford myself, which is more a need at times.
I won’t detail my entire routine, but that’s my morning and it is part of keeping my life consistent and regulated. Consistency for me is more; accelerate, then coast, accelerate then coast. I cannot just be foot flat to the floor, that way insanity lies. Plus my routine may not work for you; you find the routine that helps, but I know that too many mornings without this simple strategy and things are going to get blustery and likely be headed towards tornado season.
My crawl back to sanity and return to a new-normal was not easy, and had all sorts of consequences. Lost relationships, changing social connections, finding love. But when I returned to a more regulated life, I was different, slightly less angry, slightly more wary of people. A decade of daily othering, and bullying will do that.
The way back is to re-evaluate what your energy budget will get spent on and accept it
You have to realise you have finite “spoons” and so have to ration how they get used. Arguing over a parking ticket? Yeah, I have done that, was it worth it? Yeah, in the moment, but actually that’s 4 or 5 high energy interactions where you spend your precious energy for little to no positive return to your life. Learning to “let it go” can be hard with an innate sense of right and wrong. Some things are simply “not worth it”, as a spend from the finite energy budget. Here’s a list of things that never made the cut after various burnouts…
- Work – I gave up having a job, seemed the same shit whatever building I went to.
- Energy hoovers – people or situations that zap your mood and cost time & energy.
- Worrying what other people think/say about me – I’m odd, deal with it.
- Meeting other’s expectations – you do you, I’ll continue being my sweet awesome self.
- Quid-pro-quo relationships – yeah, that’s not how the universe works, karma is paid forward and I am not one to argue with the universe.
- No longer policing the world – adding to the karmic flow is the notion that some problems are going to be solved by the universe and I do not have to keep score. See someone weaving in and out of traffic? That’s a situation where the universe will come a-calling sooner or later… Someone being an a-hole? Knock. Knock. Muthafuqur… UNIVERSE CALLING.
- Red rope – the red-rope around my time is sacrosanct, I choose where I spend it, you do not get to jump the queue by waiving money at me. Take a ticket, sit down, be patient. I will get to you in due course.
- Firebreaks – whether I am due a break, or not, I will take days off after an intense project or working for a deadline. Allows my brain the time to transition from the project to new stuff and gives me energy recharge and prep time. I try to take Fridays off, definitely in the afternoon, and if I put in a firebreak then it’ll usually be a Monday and Tuesday, giving a longer weekend, and less impact to any ongoing projects.
If I do not respect these life rules I will burn out.
I know.
I have tried not doing these things.
I have burnouts 2, 3 and 4 to remind me of this. So, by a process of elimination I have curated my life to be as respectful of my time and energy as I can be, and ensure others respect these precious things too. No project, or person is worth my life on hold for months whilst I try and extinguish the flaming rubble my life becomes if I let others trample all over my own rules.
There’s no easy way back, and when you do emerge from the maelstrom and the destruction is apparent and everywhere and it can seem hopeless even trying to pick up and start again. But here’s the thing you have to cling to, you get to build it back the way you want. Fresh start, blank canvas, share your insights with those you love and who wish only good outcomes for you. Tell them what you have to do, or stop doing, if they truly love you , they will not only get it, they will advocate for you too.
Do not be shy about stating what you can and can no longer be expected to do. If you keep the household clean, fed and safe and it feels like a one-person crusade then delegate some of it or accept it will not get done anymore. This is not about alienating your loved ones, and those you live with, but more sharing with them the additional burden of the cognitive load and the overall weight of carrying it for the family. Teenagers and adult children living at home are quite capable of doing a load of washing. If they can work out playing a game on an X Box, they can figure out the right washing machine program.
Harder to do this at work, but if you are valued then you should have a conversation which shares the dangers of you shouldering certain loads. An explanation of burnout and paid time off might help them see the economic sense in making the accommodations?
Or think about job sharing, or adjusting your hours, which you should be legally allowed to do, we are in the UK, check local labour laws where you are before flicking the bird to your boss and saying “two days a week or imma be suing your azz”. Maybe not do that wherever you are employed.
After burnout your life is going to change, your capacity to do and cope may change, your tolerance to certain stimuli or situations may be different, and thousands of other minute but highly personal things may alter, but you have to give yourself permission to accept that these are things you have to let go. BE KIND TO YOURSELF. It’s handy to think “would I talk to my best friend/partner/kids like that?” and chances are you’re in an abusive relationship with your internal monologue.
BE KIND TO YOURSELF!
We’ve argued from Ep 01 that self employment is the perfect role for you if you have variable energy, focus and struggle with all the things that neurodivergent folk deal with on the daily. You get to show up as/when you can, and with the flexibility of letting you do what you can at a time that suits you. It’s not for everyone, but if you have a skill that you can monetise, then self-employment may just be the way out that you need.
A final bit of maths before I sign off.
If you work for the national minimum wage, for over 21s that’s £12.21 (time of writing 22 Feb 2026). A 38 hour week gives you £463.98.
Lets say you work in an office doing basic PA stuff, if you were self employed PA you’d charge a commercial rate of circa £30 an hour, and you only have to work 15.5 hrs to exceed your earnings at the full-time job. Work a 30 hour week and you earn £900, less tax and savings etc. and you will take home more than the PAYE position. With the right clients and projects you’d work 8 hours fewer a week and earn more, delivering at your own pace and timescale. It’s not for everyone, but for the right people, probably burnt out from attempting to scale the corporate ladder, then it could literally save your health and wellbeing.
It worked for me and whilst I still managed to burnout a few more times since the first, and biggest time, at least I didn’t have to explain to my boss why Fridays were “not doable” for the foreseeable future. Or playing the shame game, as you lie there on the sofa, feeling like you are letting everyone down, but unable to move.
With the right approach, right proposition to your local business community and a few local networking meetings you can earn a decent enough income without living a shadow life. Burnt out beyond recognition and probably self-medicating in the evening and twice at weekends. A story for another day I feel…
Be kind to YOURSELF and others.
Thriving Without a 5-Year Plan: Short-Term Wins, Long-Term Awesome
There are two types of people in the world: the ones with colour-coded five-year plans, laminated vision boards, and a spreadsheet that could probably file their taxes — and then there’s me. And if you’re reading this, there’s a decent chance you’re also in the “I’m just trying to get through the next five minutes without accidentally starting a new career as a candle-maker” camp.
The five-year plan is one of those culturally approved things we’re all supposed to have, like a skincare routine, a pension, or a consistent personality. And sure — for some brains, a five-year plan is motivating and grounding, a helpful lighthouse guiding you through the fog. For other brains (hi), it’s a pressure cooker. A shame-generator. A glittery trap disguised as “success”.
So let’s talk about what happens when you don’t have a five-year plan — and how you can still thrive, grow, and build long-term awesomeness without setting fire to your nervous system.
The problem with the five-year plan (for those with brains like mine)
A five-year plan assumes you can reliably do two things: predict the future, and be the same version of yourself every day for five years. If companies packed full of mega brain analysts can’t predict this stuff accurately, then what sort of hope (none… the answer’s none) does a small business owner with a spoon deficit and a squirrel chasing brain have of being able to map out the rest of the month, let alone 5 long years.
If a five-year plan genuinely works for you, I mean this sincerely: I love that for you. But if it fills you with fear, and makes you feel like you’re failing before you’ve even started, you’re not broken. It’s just not a tool that’s built for your brain.
Direction beats detail: you don’t need a plan, you need a hill
I’d be lying if I said I had ever truly understood the concept of a five-year plan in life or business. I understand direction. I understand having something vaguely on a hill that you’re aiming for — a general “over there”. What I don’t understand is the rigid, milestone-heavy version where by Year Two you’re meant to have achieved X, become Y, and be emotionally stable by Year Four (I’m not emotionally stable by year 51!). That’s not planning. That’s inviting your inner perfectionist to move in permanently and redecorate using paint shade ‘shame’.
What actually helps is a looser kind of vision that gives you direction without demanding you predict every step. For me, my goals tend to sound less like “I will triple my revenue and expand into three new markets” and more like wanting to work less, enjoy my client base, feel calmer about my work, and earn enough that I’m not living ten days from payday in a constant state of dread. That’s not a five-year plan. That’s an anti-meltdown, sustainable lifestyle..
Short-term wins: building the future without suffocating yourself
If you want long-term awesome without the five-year straight jacket, the trick is to stop trying to build the whole staircase and just focus on the next step. Short-term goals work well for neurodivergent brains because they’re visible, achievable, motivating, and adjustable. They give you something solid to aim for without locking you into a version of the future you might outgrow
This is why I love working in short sprints. Well, I have since Stu introduced me to the concept. Before that I was just bumbling along with no plans on adulting when it came to business at all. I miss those days! No, focus Hannah, focus!
Ninety days, thirty days, a season, whatever chunk doesn’t make you want to crawl under a table. You pick something specific, give it a defined window of time, and treat it like an experiment. Does it work? Does it pay? Does it drain you? Do you enjoy it? Is it sustainable? Is it moving you vaguely toward the hill? At the end of the sprint, you reassess. No drama, no shame, no “I’ve ruined my entire future”. Just interesting data and a chance to pivot.
Pivoting isn’t failure. It’s business. (And also survival.)
One of the biggest lies hustle culture tells us is that success means sticking with one idea forever, even when it’s clearly not working. But self-employment is messy and stop-start. Some months are great; other months you’re wondering if you should become a barista purely for the predictable schedule and the free pastries.
If something isn’t working — financially, emotionally, practically — pivoting isn’t weak. It’s smart. And honestly, who are these imaginary people we’re trying to impress? What committee is meeting weekly to review your career choices and announce that you’ve pivoted again and they disapprove? There isn’t one. And even if there was: fuck em.
Your energy budget is the real business plan
This might be the most important part, so I’ll say it slowly: if you don’t plan around your energy, your business will plan your burnout for you. Neurodivergent energy isn’t linear. It doesn’t show up like a tidy nine-to-five battery bar. Some days you’re focused and flying; other days you’re technically present but running on fumes and a slightly haunted vibe.
So instead of demanding consistency from yourself, you build systems that support variability. That might mean time-blocking, protecting recovery time, pushing “urgent” work to next week, or recognising that doing more now usually means borrowing from future-you. As we’ve said repeatedly in past blogs and episodes, rest isn’t a reward for getting everything done — it’s preparation for the work ahead.
Consistency is overrated (at least the way people think about it)
I don’t think consistency itself is the enemy. What is unhelpful is the idea that consistency means showing up as the same version of yourself every single day. When we have already established that that is not going to happen for a lot of us! What actually matters, especially in business, is consistency of outcome rather than consistency of energy.
My clients don’t need me to be the same Hannah every day. They need good work, delivered when it’s promised — reliability in results, not access to my internal battery levels. So I do focus-heavy work on days when focus exists, I protect recovery so future-me doesn’t suffer, and I design systems that absorb variability instead of pretending it isn’t happening. From the outside, it looks consistent; from the inside, it’s flexible, responsive, and intentional. That distinction matters, because forcing “perfect consistency” is often what breaks people, whereas systems that expect variability are what keep things moving.
And yes, the squirrels still exist
The ideas. The sudden obsessions. The “maybe I should retrain as something wildly unrelated” moments. Curiosity isn’t the enemy, and learning things isn’t wasted. Sometimes finishing isn’t even the point — the learning is. But not every idea needs to hijack the entire business.
Having an idea bank helps. Write it down, capture the dopamine, park it. If it keeps coming back and aligns with the hill, you can revisit it later. Not everything needs to become a full identity.
Your to-do list might actually be a shame list
If you’ve got tasks that have been sitting on your list for months, chatting shit about you, it’s probably time to be honest. Delete them, outsource them, or accept they’re not realistic right now. A to-do list that makes you feel permanently behind isn’t a productivity tool — it’s a stress list.
So what does “long-term awesome” actually look like?
It might look like earning enough to cover your bills without panic, doing work that doesn’t destroy your nervous system, and setting goals that flex as your life changes. It might look like a business that evolves with you instead of demanding you stay the same.
And maybe — just maybe — thriving without a five-year plan isn’t chaotic. Maybe it’s wise. Maybe it’s the most neurodivergent thing in the world to say: “I don’t know exactly where I’ll be in five years, but I know what matters to me. I know what drains me. I know what brings me joy. And I’m going to build from there.”
Short-term wins. Long-term awesome. No pretending to be someone you’re not.