Why I Don't Feel Like It (And Did It Anyway): An ADHD Burnout Story

TL;DR: I went through a rough stretch coming off an ADHD medication, and a spontaneous paddle on Lake Merwin reminded me that "I don't feel like it" isn't always a reliable signal to stop.

A quick preface: this is a short story about my personal experience with an ADHD medication. It's not medical advice, just what happened to me.

I was diagnosed with ADHD at 41, like so many people I know. I resisted medication for over a year, mostly out of stubbornness and a genuine curiosity about whether I could manage it through nutrition, exercise, and acupuncture first.

Eventually, on my therapist's recommendation, I tried it. The first few weeks were incredible. Then I needed more, so as prescribed, I took more. Great again, for a while. Then I crashed, took more, and this time it didn't land the same. What followed was real burnout: crying some days, rage on others (including on my bike, usually my happy place), and a handful of days where my brain genuinely felt like it was melting.

I told my prescribing physician I couldn't keep going like this, and we planned to switch medications. Except the pharmacy was out, every pharmacy nearby was out, and I never heard back from my provider about what to do next. Healthcare in America at it’s grandest.

So I stopped the meds myself. Probably not my best move (this is not medical advice on stopping a medication), but I felt so bad I wasn't thinking about what stopping might feel like, until it hit. A few days in, even the gym, one of my favorite places, felt like too much. I'd almost quit going more than once in the last month simply because I "didn't feel like it." That should have been my first sign.

A Day Off, ADHD, and a Lake

I took a much needed day off yesterday and went paddling on Lake Merwin. What a dreamy lake. The water was that impossible blue, and when the sun hit it, it sparkled. It was a glorious day.

My coworking buddy (who also has ADHD) and I have been trying to get out for a weekday paddle for months. Life, weather, smoke, something always got in the way. Yesterday we finally made it happen.

My acupuncturist recently prescribed more nature time for me and I knew she was right. My system has been sliding toward burnout, so it was perfect timing that this paddle was already on the calendar and we committed to it.

Why Stepping Away Brings Clarity (Especially with ADHD)

I love the moments of clarity I get when I step away from the day to day. As someone with ADHD, I need structure. I also need routine disruption and permission to color outside the lines. When I give myself that time, clarity almost always shows up.

Yesterday, my paddling buddy and I got into a conversation about schedules and structure, and how my brain has been spinning on the "I don't have time for that" story lately.

That story is sometimes helpful. Protecting your time and saying no to things that don't serve you matters. But for me, it's often fueled by a bit (okay, a lot) of perfectionism. I get stuck in the productivity trap, and time away from work starts to feel like something I "don't have time for," something that only happens on Sundays. Except it never actually happens on Sundays either, because that's when my wyfe and I do yard work, chores, and errands.

The Story Behind "Your Feelings Are Irrelevant To..."

One saying that keeps running through my head is "your feelings are irrelevant to ______."

When I was getting sober in my late twenties, people said a version of this to me often: "your feelings are irrelevant to your recovery." Because how often do we say "I don't feel like it" as the reason we skip the thing that actually helps us?

To be clear, I'm not saying feelings don't matter. I'm a sensitive soul with plenty of feelings. Being curious about my feelings, and remembering they're usually signals rather than facts, has spared me a lot of turmoil. When I remember that, anyway.

I Don't Feel Like It: Why That's Not the Whole Story

How often do we say "I don't feel like exercising," "I don't feel like meal prepping," "I don't feel like cooking"? I'm not saying that's not true. When I say "I don't feel like ______," it's absolutely true in that moment.

But not feeling like it can be true, and doing it anyway can also be true. Often, on the other side of the action, is the exact thing we’re after: the goal, the hope, the desire.

Taking action despite "I don't feel like it" tends to produce this small, odd reward feeling (dopamine, probably) that can snowball into more action toward the things we actually want.

What Happened When I Took the Opposite Action

That's what happened for me yesterday. I'd been feeling burnt out, exhausted, and a little hopeless. So I disrupted the routine. Every part of me thought I should sit behind my computer and grind through the day. But taking the opposite action of what my brain was telling me I "felt like" gave me more energy and hope to tackle everything ahead of me.

To be clear, this isn't a "never rest when you're tired" argument. It's an invitation to check in the next time that voice screams "I don't feel like ______" right as you're about to do something good for yourself, some form of self-care or disruption to the routine.

I first heard this one from Dr. Chris Lee, one of my favorite neuro-spicy follows on Instagram: your nervous system will choose a familiar hell over an unfamiliar heaven.

What's Keeping You Stuck?

If you're working toward an exercise, nutrition, health, or self-care goal, or just trying to get outside more like I was, what's the story you're telling yourself that's keeping you stuck?

If you're not sure what your goals are, or you need help figuring out what's keeping you stuck, that's a lot of what we untangle together in the treatment room, whether that's through acupuncture, nutrition, or just talking through what's actually going on in your nervous system. You don't have to have it figured out before you reach out.