ADHD, Burnout, & Breaking Rules That Never Worked
🚨 Trigger Warning: This post vaguely discusses sexual trauma, suicidal ideation, dissociation, depression, and anxiety.
I’m Jordan
I’m not your average wellness blogger. I survived trauma, own my ADHD, and left corporate life behind after torching the “perfect life” lie.
I masked, I crashed, and I nearly broke. Then I stopped pretending and built a system that actually works for me. I created Focus in Flux to help other neurodivergent minds break free and rise.
If you’ve felt broken, burned out, or like your brain works against you — you’re not alone. You’re not lazy or weak. You’re a fucking force. Let’s start living like it.
Rewrite the rules. Take your life back.
Have you ever felt like you’re stumbling through life in a fog? Like something’s always been off, but no one could tell you why?
I know that feeling, too.
I’ve been through hell, but I’m always fighting my way out — and if you’re here, I bet you’re fighting, too. So before we really dive in, just know this: I’m not some polished self-help guru. I’m not here to sell you empty motivation. I’m just a real person figuring out my ADHD, PTSD, and everything in between — and I’m bringing you along for the ride.
What if I told you the productivity rules you’ve been following were never meant for your brain? That’s what I realized after a lifetime of burnout and self-doubt…
The Early Years: Confused, Overwhelmed, & Falling Behind
As a kid, school felt like trying to sprint through knee-deep mud. I wasn’t lazy or dumb, just constantly fighting against an invisible force I didn’t understand.
I was thrown into an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) early on, but no one explained why. Teachers and parents did their best, but I was falling behind in ways no one could pin point. Back then, no one really knew young girls could have ADHD.
Math? A nightmare.
Organization? Hell-to-the-no.
Feeling “normal”? lol, nope.
Stutter? You know it.
And that was before we get into the trauma.
Surviving in a World That Never Felt Safe
Behind closed doors, my childhood was a goddamn war zone. 10 years of sexual abuse left me dissociated, lost, and completely detached from myself. When your world isn’t safe, your brain finds a way to escape. It’s called dissociation.
It protected me but also made life harder:
I struggled to focus.
I never felt fully present.
I carried the trauma silently. No one really saw it. And when I finally spoke up five years after it started? I wasn’t believed. And so it went on another five years until I tumbled out of my dissociative state and fought back.
I learned young that I have to survive on my own.
My parents regularly worked overtime to pull us out of poverty. As an only child with strict rules, I had to figure things out solo — making me independent, responsible, and sharp as hell when I wasn’t dissociating.
Eventually, my amazing parents pulled us into upward mobility and I was able to join sports which became an outlet for me.
Confirmed PTSD, Anxiety, Depression — But Something Was Still Missing
By my early 20s, while serving in the military, everything caught up with me. After another man sexually assaulted me, the walls I’d built to hold myself together started crumbling.
I was officially diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety, and depression. But something still didn’t add up. Although, it didn’t matter to me at that point because I was contemplating how much I actually wanted to live.
I felt completely out of control and wanted to disappear physically and emotionally. At that point, I didn’t want to be seen, not even by my husband. The only thing I felt I could control was my food intake and movement, so I coped by overeating and stopped exercising entirely. It was one of the most harmful, maladaptive coping mechanisms I’ve ever fallen into. And I’m still working my way out of it.
I wasn’t just disengaged — I was completely losing my sense of self and didn’t care.
I wasn’t just forgetful — I was chronically overwhelmed and didn’t notice details.
I wasn’t just tired — I was exhausted by my own brain and burnt out.
I wasn’t just scared — I was terrified of what I might do to myself.
Yes, trauma can cause this. But something deeper was at play.
Inattentive ADHD
Nearly 10 years later after steadily healing the trauma, in my early 30s, I read an article about ADHD symptoms, and my entire life suddenly made sense.
Executive dysfunction? Check.
Emotional dysregulation? Check.
Forgetfulness, disorganization, struggling with “simple” tasks? Holy shit, check, check, check.
For the first time, I had an actual explanation for why my brain worked the way it did. When I was officially diagnosed with Inattentive ADHD, I felt four things:
- Relief. Finally, an answer.
- Identity crisis. ADHD wasn’t just a diagnosis — it felt like my whole ass personality. How was I supposed to separate the two, and understand how PTSD and ADHD overlap so I can use the right strategies?
- Exhaustion. Fantastic. Another battle to fight.
- Frustration. No shade, but ADHD influencers today are way too soft. Your feelings matter, but they shouldn’t run your life. That’s just not how I roll.
The ADHD & Trauma Cycle
Here’s the kicker: ADHD and trauma fuel each other. Both mess with your nervous system.
ADHD makes emotional regulation, focus, and daily life harder. Trauma cranks those struggles up to max difficulty — executive dysfunction, emotional dysregulation, impulsivity, all of it.
Side note: No clue which came first for me, ADHD or PTSD. (We’ll get into the fascinating pathology behind that later.)
But ADHD has never just been about forgetting deadlines or zoning out at work. It’s been a lifetime of feeling broken. So, I overcompensated. I did everything, either because I wanted to or because I thought I should, until I burned myself out.
I’ve Lived Many Lives. You Too?
If you have ADHD, you’re probably impulsive as hell, too. I call it “innocent rebellion.” Half the time, I just want to see what happens.
I send emails without proofreading them. I toss assembly instructions because—honestly, who knows? (Some of my furniture is definitely standing on pure vibes.)
But it’s not just little things. I joined the military because I wanted college paid for and to be a first generation graduate. One day, I decided I’d work in PR — so I got my master’s degree at twice the speed while working full-time, doing internships, and serving on a nonprofit board. Because why the hell not?
When I don’t care about something, I half-ass it. When I do, I become obsessed, chase massive goals, and still feel like I haven’t done enough.
I don’t gamble unless the odds are stacked in my favor — every hyperfocus has to ladder into something bigger. My husband calls me lucky because things tend to work out. But luck has little to do with it. I obsess over making things happen and don’t take no for an answer.
But eventually? I burn out. I drop everything and chase a whole new lifestyle.
And for most of my life, I never failed. Until recently.
Understanding, Not Fixing
Burnout hit me like a freight train. I had spent years chasing, achieving, and reinventing myself — jumping from one hyperfixation to the next, proving my worth over and over again. And, finally realizing I was tying my worth to my job.
Then suddenly, I had nothing left to push through.
I was drowning at work, running on fumes, and trying to convince myself that if I just worked harder, I could fix it. Instead, I was slapped with a Performance Improvement Plan (PIP): 60 days to prove I belonged.
I was pissed.
But that’s when I finally opened up to my therapist and realized the truth:
Burnout hadn’t taken me down (well, it kind of did). But ADHD was really behind it all along.
So I disclosed my ADHD and requested some kind of accommodations. (I requested accommodations for PTSD a year prior to this and was denied, so I didn’t have much faith in this system.) Since my diagnosis was so new and I was still learning about my ADHD, I didn’t know what accommodations I needed.
Then, a critical member of my team who was supposed to be in my corner implied ADHD wasn’t real. Suddenly, I was treated like an incompetent, unreliable outsider. All because I thought and learned differently.
Oh, and those accommodations I received? Hot garbage.
None of this surprised me. I didn’t know how to advocate for myself/my disability at the time. All in all, the role just wasn’t a good fit.
The military wasn’t a good fit for me either, but I excelled at it. So, really, I was devesated that I couldn’t make this role work for me.
And then something clicked.
I wasn’t about to keep shrinking myself to fit the polite, agreeable, people-pleaser that academia and corporate life had molded me into.
I went back to the badass military bitch who ruled her life with a firm, steady hand and fucking went for it. I spoke my mind, nicely but bluntly. Then left the job behind.
The silver lining? I realized I hated that job long before the PIP, so things actually worked out. And, I met some truly great people who will stay in my life.
Where I Am Now
I’m still in the thick of learning what works for me. My ADHD diagnosis is recent, and I’m testing different strategies, tweaking systems, and figuring things out in real-time.
With my husband’s support and the smart financial moves I made (a shocker, considering impulsivity and finances usually don’t mix for me), I’m stepping away from corporate life to finally figure out what I want — not what the world expects from me.
But here’s what I know so far:
- ADHD isn’t a flaw. My brain isn’t broken — it’s just wired differently. Learning to work with it instead of against it has changed everything.
- Trauma doesn’t get the final say. Therapy helped me unpack what I’d been carrying for years. Facing it head-on got my control back.
- Systems make all the difference. I’ll never be naturally organized, so I use ADHD-friendly tools like timers, visual reminders, and systems that actually work. Since I’m still experimenting, I’ll always give you my honest reviews.
- Self-compassion is key. I still have to stop myself from being mean to myself for struggling. But I’m reminded: Struggling doesn’t mean failing — it means I’m still fighting and building resilience.
What I’m Offering You
The world wasn’t built for ADHD brains but that doesn’t mean we can’t thrive in it. I’m not here to sell you magic solutions. I’m here to test, experiment, & share real strategies that actually work. I’m here to remind you who the hell you are.
- No toxic productivity. You don’t need to squeeze yourself into a system that wasn’t designed for you. Let’s build something that actually fits.
- No coddling. I believe in self-compassion and accountability. Your struggles are real, but they don’t get to run your life.
- No one-size-fits-all advice. ADHD is complex as hell. What works for me may not work for you — but I’ll always be upfront about what’s worth trying.
Starting next week, when my blog really begins, here’s what you’ll get:
- ADHD-friendly systems: Executive function strategies, ADHD wellness rituals, and mindset & mood tips that make sense for neurodivergent brains.
- Unfiltered insights: Deep dives into ADHD research, real-life experiences, & breakdowns of what actually helps without all the bullshit.
- Trial & error in real-time: I’m still figuring things out, so you’ll get my honest reviews as I test tools, strategies, & routines.
If you’re tired of struggling with systems that don’t work, advice that doesn’t apply, and people who don’t get it then you’re in the right place.
Let’s figure this out on our terms.
Final Thoughts: I’m Not Broken & Never Was. Neither are You.
If you’ve ever felt lost, stuck, or like your brain is fighting against you then let this sink in:
You’re not lazy.
You’re not stupid.
And you sure as fuck aren’t broken.
Your brain just works differently, and that’s okay. You are not your trauma. You are not your struggles. You are so much more than what’s tried to break you. And to hell with people who try to weigh you down, gaslight you, or make you conform.
It’s never too late to understand yourself. It’s never too late to reclaim your life.
If all this resonated with you, you’re not alone.
