The Invisible Cost of Existing Differently
Why are we surprised
or ashamed
that having a brain not built for this world comes with costs?
This isn’t a flaw.
This is the cost of doing business
with a brain wired for disruption, pattern, and panic breathing.
They call it ADHD taxes.
We call it ADHD math.
The Cost of Groceries, Shame, and Decision Fatigue
Yes, I forgot to get groceries. I forgot to use the groceries.
Yes, I ordered DoorDash two days in a row.
Yes, I’ve thrown out $18 chicken breasts
I meant to cook during my executive functioning window, which never opened.
No, I don’t track every expense.
No, I don’t feel better when I try.
They say “cook at home, it’s cheaper.”
But cheaper for who?
By the time I plan the meal,
buy the ingredients,
come home,
clean the counter,
forget what I planned,
freeze up from decision fatigue,
and throw out three moldy containers
I could’ve eaten out
and still spent less.
ADHD Math Isn’t Balance, It’s Survival
ADHD math doesn’t look like balance.
It looks like survival.
It’s wearing the same hoodie for four days
Because decision paralysis is more expensive than laundry.
It’s paying a late fee
on a bill that took 45 seconds to pay
but 14 days to face.
It’s losing time, then blaming yourself for being unable to time travel.
Shame That Shows Up Before the Bill
And then there’s the judgment.
Not from others.
From yourself.
In the car.
At the drive-thru.
Ordering food you could’ve made
with groceries you never touched.
Telling yourself “this is the last time”
for the ninth time this week.
You’re alone.
No one’s watching.
And you still feel like you’ve done something wrong.
Executive Dysfunction Doesn’t Show on a Receipt
But what they don’t calculate
What never shows up in the receipts
is executive dysfunction.
Not just a distraction.
Not just delay.
The freeze that happens
When a task feels like a locked door with no key,
even when it’s something simple,
even when it’s something important,
even when you care.
Not because I’m lazy.
Because my brain won’t let me believe
the consequences are real until it’s too late to respond.
We Don’t Ask for Help, We Just Drown Quietly
And the worst part?
We don’t ask for help.
We wait until we’re buried.
Until it’s too late.
Until someone else notices.
Because we’ve been trained to believe
that asking for help makes us irresponsible
when in reality, asking is what we were never taught to do.
“That’s not just an ADHD tax.
That’s emotional interest charged monthly
for the crime of not being neurotypical.”
I Don’t Need a Budget I Need Grace
I don’t want budgeting advice.
I want shame-adjusted emotional accounting.
I want to calculate time lost to masking.
I want to line-item regret.
I want to budget grief
like other people budget gas.
We’re Still Here And That’s the Math That Matters
Yes, ADHD costs us.
But it also saves us.
We know how to solve shit sideways.
We know how to work fast, love weird, move impulsively, and recover.
And when things fall apart,
we don’t panic.
We pivot.
Because we’ve never taken the same route twice,
and we’re still fucking here.