Grief, ADHD, and the Crash After Hustling Too Hard

My Dad as a young man and his nephew. He was a keen spear-fisherman and diver and loved the underwater world. The black and white photo albums from his youth are my favourites to look back on..

A bit of background on me- In mid-2023, I was formally diagnosed with ADHD. Finally understanding how my brain worked brought a surge of momentum and empowerment. At the beginning of 2024 I was accepted into the Self-Employment Assistance Program (for those of you outside Australia, this is a program that is kind of like a government grant to support people starting their own business. It provides financial support, mentorship as well as formal education in business and entrepreneurship.) and so I decided to pursue creativity full-time. For the first time, I could see a future shaped by my passions.

But just a few months into this new journey, my father passed away suddenly from a respiratory infection at 82 years old. As the only remaining immediate family member, it was my responsibility to sort through his life—packing up his belongings, organising paperwork, arranging the funeral, and handing in the keys to his unit to the retirement village.

I had some help here and there, and emotional support from loved ones, but I did most of it alone. My business, studies, and creativity went on hold as I focused all my energy on these tasks.

Auto-Pilot Determination

Doing these things for my dad felt like a way to honour him. I went into auto-pilot, determined to get everything right. My executive function was sharp, my focus unwavering. Once it was all done, I jumped straight back into my business.

Momentum built quickly—I was productive, assertive, and gaining confidence. I joined an artist cooperative, displayed my work in their gallery, and was even approached by another gallery. It felt like everything was falling into place.

But then Christmas arrived, bringing with it the pressure to rest—a rest I didn’t want to take. I was afraid of what would catch up with me if I stopped. And as soon as I did, it hit me. The grief I had pushed aside by staying busy crashed down all at once.

Signs of Burnout

I had overcommitted myself to a tight training schedule with my course work, trying to make up for the time lost after my dad’s death. I was juggling this coursework, running my business solo, and trying to get my jewellery “out there.” Every day was a rush to tick off endless to-do lists:

• Half-completed coursework piled up as I struggled to catch up. I’d start one unit only to fall behind and have to start the next.

• When I opened my laptop to study, the words looked like a foreign language. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t understand. I’d push through a few questions, get frustrated, feel stupid, and then close my laptop to do something else on my list.

• My business demanded constant attention—making jewellery, photographing it, listing it online, marketing, maintaining equipment, ordering supplies, and troubleshooting when things went wrong. Obstacles kept coming up, and I felt less and less capable of overcoming them.

• My confidence plummeted as every task felt more overwhelming than the last.

• I began avoiding messages, phone calls, and emails. The simplest interactions felt exhausting, and the thought of explaining myself became too overwhelming.

• I was getting more easily frustrated, snapping at small inconveniences that normally wouldn’t bother me.

• My sleep patterns were a mess—either I couldn’t sleep at all, or I’d crash and sleep too much.

• I was eating way too much sugar and not exercising enough, chasing short bursts of energy that would inevitably end in a crash.

• Also, I have always had problems with skin-picking and squeezing blackheads, especially when I’m stressed. I’m guessing it’s a “stimming” and self-regulating behaviour. As I was hurtling towards burnout, I was doing this more and more….and my skin looked like shit.

On top of all this, there were countless personal tasks that I couldn’t seem to get to:

• My car broke down around the same time my father passed away, and I had to buy a new one. The old one is still sitting in my yard, needing to be disposed of.

• The grass needs cutting, and the overgrowth feels like a visual reminder of everything I’m not getting done.

• I have piles of things that need to be taken to the tip, and the clutter is suffocating.

I was frozen, unable to move forward. The executive function that had helped me through my father’s passing was suddenly nowhere to be found. I felt ashamed and unwilling to ask anyone for help, even turning down offers of help from people who love me.

Grief Doesn’t Follow a Schedule

We live in a world that glorifies constant productivity. But grief doesn’t follow those rules. It lingers quietly, waiting for you to slow down. When you don’t allow yourself the space to feel it, it catches up with you all at once.

I’m learning that grief isn’t linear. It shows up when you least expect it and demands to be felt. Recovery isn’t just about pushing through—it’s about learning to rest, to grieve, and to heal at your own pace.

If you’re navigating grief and burnout, I hope you find the courage to slow down and make space for healing. More to come on this topic, and hopefully some strategies to move forward as I navigate this journey myself, so do follow along and feel free to share your own journeys and tips!