Lucinda Young
29/03/2026
I’m failing again, she thought. She stood in the kitchen, her back pressed hard against the metal sink. The tap dripped steadily in the background. She tapped her fingers along with the rhythm, trying to remember what she needed to do. She tried to wrangle her middle-aged brain into gear. Her hair unwashed, piled high at the top of her head in a nest of light brown and silver, she glanced to her side. The used dishes were piled to the side of the sink, still undone, and she felt grotty. She quickly looked away, focus turning to the work papers and folded clothes on the kitchen table. She felt a bit twitchy.
The twitchiness was like an itch that couldn’t be reached, the irritation ever-present. There was a constant niggle that made it hard for her to stay on task. When this happened, she either moved physically around the house or she stopped and stared into space, mind jumping from one possible activity to another, unable to do anything else. On the outside, it might look like nothing was happening, that she was a thoroughly disorganised and unproductive being, but this was not true. It was the twitchiness. Today, the twitchiness was in her mind, and she was uncertain of what to do next. Or, well, first.
I’ve got a big list of stuff that I really need to do today, she thought. She tried really hard to get going. First, she scraped the food off the dirty dishes and started to fill the sink. But then she noticed that the cupboard under the sink was dirty, old tea drips on the side of the bin, so she pulled things out and started to wipe the bin and cupboard down. That was a bit boring, and she didn’t have enough cloths. She then went to put the work papers back in her office but realised the timber desk in there needed clearing. It still housed unfolded clean laundry that had been dumped there. She flitted from one task to the next but was not really finishing anything. If I just get the things done, then I can relax.
But it was no use.
She looked out the window often, constantly getting distracted watching the birds jump around the green grevillea trees, little wrens with blue and brown tail feathers hopping around and among the red and yellow blossoms chasing insects. She walked over to the cat, gave him a little pat, sat at the table in the morning sunshine, and somehow started reading recipe books. Time went by, an hour or two, and then she got that familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. A knot of stress and anxiety and anguish.
She stood up.
I need to do the things on my list, she again thought. She looked at the list. None of it was very fun. Her brain chimed in: Maybe go for a walk, maybe that will finally motivate you. She took her time getting ready – having a shower and dragging on some shoes – and went for a walk down the street. She noticed the plum trees were finally putting on their white flowers, a pretty contrast to their dark burgundy-green leaves, and there was a buzz of lawn mowers in the background, before going into a favourite store and talking to the owner about books and how things in the world could be better. She looked at her watch: Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I’m never going to get anything done today, her inner dialogue continued, berating herself. I’m failing again. What is wrong with me?
She returned home, pulled out her phone, sat on the couch, and doom scrolled for a while, looking at useless websites and continually refreshing a news website.
Anything new on that story? I’d better look up the weather. When did I last worm the cat? Oh, and where are those shoes I have to return? The thoughts were not sequential; they were simultaneous, and it was exhausting.
Why can’t I just do this? Why can’t I just get it done?
She went back to the list. She tried a new approach: she put on some music. I’ll just do things for a few songs. She started on more jobs from the list: the tidying and the cleaning, the sorting and the shuffling of papers, the collecting of rubbish and putting it in the bin, the folding and hanging of clothes.
All of a sudden, she didn’t feel very well. She felt faint. She realised that she hadn’t eaten all day. Oh dear, she thought, now I have to do that, and that’s going to take forever. She went to the fridge and cobbled together her random meal of boiled egg, steamed greens, and a rice cake with avocado. She sat at the table and looked out, watching the horses in her neighbour’s paddock as she chewed. She watched an older neighbour taking his slow shuffle of a daily walk past the house and heard the postman’s motorbike approaching. Her attention shifted to the garden bed outside the window. The weeds were so tall that it was hard to see the bottom of the rose bushes anymore. I should really do the gardening, oh gosh, the garden is a bloody mess, oh, and the windows are filthy. I still haven’t cleaned them, her thoughts adding ever more tasks to that damn to-do list. It was so difficult to try to stay focused.
She tried yet another approach: a podcast to distract her. She loved learning, and this was such a great, happy place for her to listen to the podcast and tackle that list. She turned the volume up and forced herself to smile. Happy place. She was tricking herself into getting stuff done. Winning. She flitted about the house, folding and hanging clothes, washing dishes, sorting out the work papers, and became engrossed in what she was listening to.
The topic was interesting. It was about ADHD. It was about a person with a really busy brain that couldn’t seem to focus when it mattered or when they wanted it to, someone who was chronically late. A person who felt constantly overwhelmed. Hmmm.
She got tired, so she sat down on the couch and kept listening. The cat jumped up next to her, and suddenly something clicked. This makes so much sense. I think I might have ADHD. I think this might explain quite a lot, which means that I’m not stupid or dumb or lazy. Maybe I just have a busy brain that works differently. Am I imagining this, or does this describe me? She turned off the podcast and gave up on the tidying.
She wrote a new to-do list:
1. Make a doctor’s app
2. Investigate getting an ADHD diagnosis
3. Be gentle with myself.
***
Special mention: Lucinda Young
Lucinda Young (she/her) lives in Mirboo North in a house with a very overgrown garden, her kind partner and an anxious cat. She works in Community Development and facilitation, and loves learning. She is interested in the complex web of everything that makes herself and other humans tick and writes to explore this.
Paper Road Magazine 