ADHD vs. Autism: The Ultimate Cage Match (That’s Also My Daily Life)

Juggling Chaos and Structure Like a Sleep-Deprived Circus Act—Because My Brain Said So

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Ten years ago, my ADHD was running the show like an over-caffeinated toddler with a vendetta. I was the girl chugging six Mountain Dews a day, chain-smoking like a noir detective, and riding energy surges deep into the night. I’d clean, rearrange rooms, make elaborate budget plans—only to crash and still wake up at 5 a.m. like some kind of sleep-deprived cryptid. I was exhausted, frustrated, and convinced my lifestyle was the problem, despite my home being relatively low in toxins.

So, I flung myself into the wellness world like a deranged squirrel, trying everything—strict diets, rigid schedules, punishing workouts. But nothing stuck. At the time, I thought I was just a failure. Now, I see that my neurodivergent brain was staging a full-blown rebellion against structure that wasn’t made for it. Most people struggle with wellness routines, but for someone with ADHD and autism, it was like trying to mix oil and water—while blindfolded and on roller skates.

Over the past decade, I’ve learned how to let my ADHD and autism work together instead of battling it out like rival reality show contestants. My autism craves structure, and my ADHD craves chaos. Finding a way to keep both happy has been a game-changer.

"When your brain is both the over-planner and the chaos gremlin, and you’re just along for the ride."

How I Found Balance: Nurturing ADHD Without Letting It Run Wild

I had to build myself a flexible schedule because, let’s be real, strict ones make me rebel faster than a teenager with a curfew. My autism needs structure, but my ADHD craves freedom, so I built a baseline routine that keeps me anchored while letting me switch things up. Without that, I’d be a chaotic mess; with it, I can actually function without feeling like I’m trapped in a system designed for robots. It’s all about tricking my brain into cooperating with itself.

These days I rarely have sleepless nights anymore. Most nights, I’m in bed by 8 p.m., which sounds like I’m a senior citizen, but trust me, it’s glorious. My bedtime routine is sacred: skincare, red light therapy, phone-free relaxation, and either a show or a book. This lulls my brain into a semi-functional state so I can actually wake up feeling human instead of like a dumpster fire.

Mornings are structured but with room for improvisation. I let the dogs out, make coffee, and read for 20–30 minutes. If a brilliant idea pops into my head (or, let’s be real, I remember I need to pay a bill), I jot it down while using my vibration plate and soaking up some red light therapy. Then, I get dressed and head to work. My job keeps me just engaged enough to prevent me from spiraling into boredom-fueled chaos, though the slow winter months do give me time to write and plan.

Evenings depend on how much energy I’ve hemorrhaged throughout the day. Thankfully, my kids are old enough to help out, so we divide up household chores and dinner duties like a well-oiled machine (or, at least, a machine that mostly works). If I’m running on fumes, it’s a "fend for yourself" night, and I crawl into bed early. Other nights, I’ll cook, clean, check in with my family, and then slide into my bedtime routine like a pro. I try to stay consistent with whole foods and listening to my body, but every now and then, those old hyperfocus energy surges hit, and I’m up until 2 a.m. mapping out my next big idea. (Cue the dramatic montage.)

I can’t control my brain like a neurotypical person, but I’ve learned how to support it. Good food, prioritizing rest, limiting screen time, and moving my body all help me keep my life from going off the rails. Having a job that forces me to be somewhere at a certain time is also a huge anchor—without it, I’d probably be up all night, then wondering why I feel like a raccoon in daylight.

Navigating Plans and Social Situations for My Autistic Side

I need structure when it comes to plans. If you tell me something is happening, I need details: time, location, estimated duration, backup escape plan. Vague plans stress me out because I have no clue when to show up or leave. If we’re going somewhere new, I’m the person who maps out the route, checks parking options, and watches YouTube videos of the location so I don’t look like a lost tourist.

If my husband says we’re going fishing at 10 a.m., I wake up at 6:30, do my morning routine, and then just… wait for him. If I start another task, I’ll get frustrated when I have to abandon it, so I just hover like a cat waiting to be fed. (Cue the Jeopardy theme.)

I am also notorious for the Irish goodbye—once I’ve hit my socializing limit, I’m out. If I can’t leave when I need to, I get cranky, which is why I always take my own vehicle. Control over my exit strategy is non-negotiable. "Nobody puts Baby in a corner," and nobody keeps me at a party longer than I want to be.

Letting ADHD and Autism Work Together

A podcast once described ADHD and autism as siblings who both love and loathe each other. Sometimes they get along; other times, they fight like two gremlins over the last piece of pizza.

For example, I’ll make a to-do list—then immediately lose it. So, I started keeping lists on my phone, since I never forget my phone. But then I’d forget to check my phone. The solution? Keeping lists physically in front of my face at all times. This is why I love open shelving in my kitchen—I need to see what’s clean and ready to eat, or else I’ll realize too late that I have no clean plates after cooking an entire meal. (Insert dramatic "Noooo!" here.)

By understanding how both sides of my brain work, I’ve created systems that actually support me instead of setting me up for failure. It’s not about forcing myself into a neurotypical mold—it’s about letting ADHD and autism balance each other out so life is easier, not more frustrating.

Actionable Tweaks to Try:

• Build a baseline routine. Keep it flexible enough that you don’t feel trapped but structured enough to prevent chaos.

• Make lists visible. Whiteboards, sticky notes, or a planner you actually check can be game-changers.

• Prioritize sleep. A bedtime routine (even if it’s just winding down with a book) helps signal your brain it’s time to chill.

• Anchor your day. Whether it’s work, school, or a daily walk—having something consistent to revolve around helps balance ADHD’s impulsivity.

• Know your escape plan. Whether it’s an exit strategy for social events or a backup plan for unexpected schedule changes, have a system in place.

• Accept your brain’s quirks. Instead of forcing yourself into a system that fights your natural wiring, tweak things so they actually work for you.

Ten years ago, I was fighting myself. Now, I’m working with myself, and life is significantly less chaotic because of it. Try out some of these tweaks, and let me know what works for you!

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