I helped a client write this for her husband: a glimpse into ADHD’s hidden effort, overwhelm, and how partners can truly support.
Dear Partner,
I want to share something with you—not as criticism, not as blame, but as a way of opening a door that helps you see what it actually feels like to move through the world with ADHD.
You see the outside of me every day. You see me functioning, getting things done, keeping the house moving, remembering the kids’ needs, juggling a hundred invisible tasks.
But what you don’t always see is the energy it takes to hold it all together.
ADHD isn’t about not caring or being scattered “on purpose.”
It’s like having 20 radios playing at once in my head—some loud, some quiet, all competing.
From the outside, I can look calm. That’s my masking.
I’ve spent my whole life learning how to hide the chaos inside because I’ve had to.
But masking takes enormous effort.
So when the house looks nice or the kids’ stuff is picked up, it’s not “easy for me.”
It’s me holding sand in my hands and trying not to let any spill.
I function best when things have a clear home.
Not because I’m being rigid, but because my brain can’t hold loose ends.
If a system exists, I can maintain it.
If it doesn’t, I spin off into six other projects before I can finish one.
I needed help creating our systems because I can’t design them on my own.
It’s like trying to build a bookshelf while your hands are shaking—I can put books on the shelf once it’s built, but I can’t get the damn thing assembled without support.
Here’s the truth:
The biggest source of my overwhelm isn’t the chores—it’s the mental load.
I’m tracking:
what needs to be bought
what the kids need next
who’s sick
what forms are due
the next steps for the day
a hundred tiny “don’t forgets”
It’s nonstop.
And I often can’t articulate what I need help with. All I can get out is:
“I need help.”
When I say that, it means I’m already close to flooding.
Overstimulation feels like a pot of water that’s just about to boil over.
You don’t always see the bubbles yet, but inside, things are shaking.
Signs I’m getting overwhelmed (even if I look fine):
I get quieter
I start moving faster
I look like I’m “busy” but I’m actually flustered
My tone gets short
I stop making decisions (“I don’t care” = I can’t think anymore)
I retreat or shut down
Questions you can gently ask me:
“Where’s your head at right now—high, medium, or low capacity?”
“What’s one thing I can take off your plate in the next hour?”
“Does this noise/chaos feel like too much right now?”
“Do you need a break or tag out?”
Things you can do without needing me to tell you:
finish a task you said you’d do
reduce noise or visual clutter
offer to take the kids for a bit
handle one tiny decision so I don’t have to
The meds help.
They make things less loud inside.
I can think more clearly, focus more easily, and I don’t drown in stimulation as quickly.
They don’t fix everything—but the fact that they work tells us my ADHD is real, not imagined.
Yes, I get a lot done.
Yes, I push through.
Yes, I make things happen.
But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.
It doesn’t mean I enjoy it.
It doesn’t mean I’m fine.
My “superpowers” come with actual strain.
They come with burnout.
They come with me putting my head down and marching through things that would be easier if shared.
Here’s the vulnerable part:
When you take a task but don’t finish it, it doesn’t feel helpful.
It becomes another thing on my mental list—
“Okay… now I need to go finish that too.”
Then I get frustrated. I feel disappointment. I feel alone in it.
And I go right back into doing it myself.
Not because I want control, not because I enjoy it, but because it feels like the only way to keep things moving.
I do not like cooking.
If someone prepped meals and I could just grab-and-go, I’d be thrilled.
Me taking it back doesn’t mean I enjoy it—it means:
the system wasn’t sustainable
the meals were too repetitive (ADHD needs novelty)
or I didn’t feel real support in the plan
It’s not about you not trying—it’s about the system not working for my brain.
There’s a version of this that can work for us, but we need to explore that together rather than me defaulting to doing it all.
I’d love us to have small check-ins that are simple and quick.
Something like:
Morning:
“What’s your capacity today—high, medium, or low?”
“Is there anything on your mind that I can take off your plate?”
Evening:
“How are you feeling energy-wise?”
“Do we need to adjust anything for tomorrow?”
This gives us both a chance to course-correct before one of us hits burnout.
I need you to understand that ADHD affects everything:
my attention, my stress levels, my emotional bandwidth, my overwhelm, my ability to prioritize, even my relationship with structure.
But I also need you to know:
I’m trying.
I’m learning.
I’m doing my best.
And I want us to be a team—one where you can recognize when I’m struggling, step in before I crash, and help me carry the parts that weigh the heaviest.
I love you.
And I want us to grow in this together.
Love,
Your ADHD Partner
If you’re curious about ADHD — or if you want something concrete to share with others — I’ve created a free ADHD Screening Toolkit. It includes two evidence-based screening tools that break ADHD down into symptoms and everyday struggles.
Many people who see these tools have that “oh wow, that’s actually ADHD” moment. It’s a simple way to paint a clearer picture of what ADHD really looks like.
👉 Access the FREE ADHD Screening Toolkit here!
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