ADHD Task Paralysis or a Nervous System Response?

Avoiding My Inbox Like It’s a Trapdoor

I stopped writing again.

And I didn’t mean to. I was doing well; momentum building, subscribers rising, engagement flowing. But then something small happened. A writer I admire replied to my message, asked me what I wanted to collaborate on, and I froze.

I haven’t answered since.

And with that silence, the weight of shame crept in. Not for them; for me. Because the truth is, I didn’t know what I wanted. I still don’t really know. And that question, “What do you want to do?” felt like a test I hadn’t studied for.

It turned the thing I love into something I had to perform.

Writing, when it’s mine, is fluid. Messy. Emotional. It unravels. It surprises me. But when it becomes a demand, even a gentle one, I shut down. Not because I don’t care, but because suddenly it feels like something I have to earn.

And that’s the part I’m trying to unlearn.

Maybe I panicked because I hit 65 subscribers and felt the tremble of more eyes watching. Maybe it’s because I gave myself a goal of 100 subscribers by the end of the month, and the minute it started working, I hit the brakes.

Success felt like visibility.

And visibility has always felt like exposure.

What if they expect more of me than I can give? What if I run out of things to say? What if I say the wrong thing? What if I finally figure out what I want and it still isn’t enough?

And the cruel irony is—I want to write!

I have so much to say.

But I don’t always know how to say it on demand. Even when I am the one demanding it from myself.

I have a plan. I even love the plan. But sometimes, the plan feels like another box to squeeze myself into. And I’ve spent my whole life wriggling out of boxes I never chose.

So this post is just that: a wriggle. A sigh. A permission slip. For me; and maybe for you too.

To keep writing even when you don’t know where it’s going.

To pause and pick up the thread again.

To not answer right away.

To not have a polished pitch.

To not know what you want and still be worth listening to.

This isn’t writer’s block. This is writer’s processing.

And this post is my way back in.

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I didn’t write this for pity or praise. I wrote it because I needed to untangle the knot inside me and lay it down somewhere. If you’ve ever frozen at the moment you were supposed to show up, if you’ve ever gone quiet not because you didn’t care—but because you cared too much—I see you.

This space isn't about polished answers. It's about truth in motion. About naming the messy middle before the clarity arrives.

If you're somewhere in the in-between right now too...
you’re not behind.
you’re not broken.
you’re not alone.

You’re just human.
And that’s more than enough.

With love,
xx Eve_Interrupted