ADHD Tax: I’m Not Motivated By Money, But It’s Cost Me Everything

Neurodivergent and Broke (But Not Broken)

I’ve never been motivated by money.
And that’s not a flex. That’s a confession.

Because in the world we live in, that comes with a cost
a cost that stacks faster than interest,
a cost that doesn’t come with a receipt,
just shame and unpaid invoices.
AKA: ADHD Tax.

People say,
“Just increase your rates.”
“Just invoice on time.”
“Just raise your prices.”

But when the dopamine isn’t there, my brain doesn’t move.
It doesn’t matter how big the bonus is.
If it doesn’t feel urgent, it doesn’t exist.

Dopamine vs. Dollars

I’ve done the work.
I’ve built things that matter.
I’ve shown up with fire, passion, and solutions no one else saw coming.

But I’ve also walked away from five-figure deals because my gut said no.
Or forgot to invoice because chasing money never lights me up.

I don’t work harder for commissions.
I don’t close faster for raises.
I don’t care about “performance bonuses.”

I care about impact.
About people.
About energy.
About doing something that feels fucking real.

And that
is expensive.

When Success Doesn’t Pay Your Rent

I’ve been called successful.
But I’ve stared at overdue rent.
I’ve been praised on a sales call and panicked over child support.

People think visibility equals wealth.
That followers mean stability.
That recognition means reward.

But none of them know what it costs to stay afloat when your brain isn’t wired to chase the money.

They say
“you’re undercharging.”
I say, “I know.”

They say “follow up on that invoice.”
I say, “I forgot.

”They say, ‘just outsource it.”
And I’m trying.

But truthfully?
If the task doesn’t hook my dopamine,
I ghost it.
Even if it’s money. Even if it matters.

I’ve Paid in Silence (And Sometimes in Silence Only)

The hardest part isn’t the money.
It’s the silence.

The shame spiral of knowing what you could’ve earned
 if only your brain gave a shit about the same levers everyone else pulls.

It’s watching your neurotypical peers build systems
around urgency and fear, while your brain waits for the spark that never comes.

I’ve punished myself for not being wired to hustle.
I’ve shamed myself for not tracking the metrics.

I’ve been scared to look at my bank account not because I was broke
but because I couldn’t even remember what I said yes to.

A First Date, A Coffee, and the Math That Didn’t Add Up

We matched on Hinge.
It happened to be her birthday.
So I got her a coffee.
Didn’t think twice.
Didn’t feel like a “gesture.”
Just felt like what a human does.

We went on a date.
And the whole time I could feel it the energy wasn’t there.
She was polite. Present.
But checked out.

It felt like she came because I bought her a coffee.
Like the debt of kindness turned into a dinner.

But here’s the thing:

I didn’t buy her coffee to get the date.
I bought her coffee because I like giving people warmth.
Because I felt like it.
Because my brain doesn’t calculate ROI when it comes to connection.

And when my neurotypical friends said:
“Dude, sushi on a first date? That’s risky.”
All I could think was: “But I like sushi.”

And if I’m spending time with someone,
why would I pretend to like something cheaper just to budget against possible rejection?

ADHD math doesn’t track like theirs.
We spend to align.
We give because the moment said yes.
We offer without calculating how we’ll feel if they leave.

And when they do?
We don’t resent the cost.
We question our wiring.
Like maybe generosity is the flaw. Maybe we are.

The Real ADHD Tax: Not Getting Paid What You’re Worth

This is the tax that never gets named:
The price of not being money-driven in a world that only values transactions.

I’ve undercharged.
I’ve overdelivered.
I’ve said yes to “opportunities” that drained me
because meaning felt more valuable than money ever did.

And I’m tired of pretending that being “mission-aligned” should mean being underpaid.

Not All ADHD Brains Math the Same

Let’s be clear: Some ADHD folks hyper-focus on money.
They chase what they’re worth.
They fight to be valued.

And that’s real too.
Because ADHD shows up differently in every nervous system it touches.

Some of us overdeliver,
some of us undercharge,
and some of us struggle to ask for anything at all.

But for me?
My ADHD math is wired through emotional logic.
Not financial.
Not transactional.
Not strategic.

And sometimes I pay more
because I assume someone else might be carrying the same unspoken shame.

I tip big. I overpay.
Not because I want anything back.
But because I know how hard it is to ask for what you deserve.
And I never expect the same in return.

That’s the weirdest tax of all: Knowing how to value others
while struggling to believe you’re worth the same.

I Want To Be Paid Like Someone Who Matters

I don’t want to be rich.
I want to be safe.
I want to take my kids to the pool and the movies in the same day without checking my account first.

I want to pay bills without shame. I want to be seen not just as valuable  but as worth paying.

Because just like ADHD taxes,
this is a cost we’re not naming enough.
And if I don’t say it now,
I’ll keep paying for it in silence.

And that?
Costs too much.

Read more about that ADHD Tax cost here.