Most of us treat our email inbox a bit like that mysterious drawer in the kitchen – the one filled with random keys, old receipts, expired vouchers and a pen that no longer works. Emails quietly stack up the same way. Unread messages stop grabbing our attention, notifications become background noise and before we realise it, we are followed by a number like 47,982 unread emails, silently adding pressure to our day.

The good news is that email organisation doesn’t need to be perfect. It simply needs an occasional reset. I recommend clearing your inbox just once a year, and right now is the perfect moment to do it. The holiday season is traditionally when we declutter our homes, refresh our spaces and get ready for a new year. Our brain responds well to those symbolic resets. Clearing emails aligns with the same instinct – to lighten the load, mentally and emotionally, before stepping into a fresh start.

For people with ADHD or busy, fast-moving minds, digital clutter doesn’t just “sit there.” It continuously pulls attention and acts like a series of unfinished tasks. Even unopened emails can create a sense of background pressure, leading to anxiety, procrastination or that familiar feeling of wanting to avoid opening the inbox altogether.

An annual clean-up isn’t about going through every email individually or categorising everything into perfect folders – that approach often leads straight to overwhelm. Instead, think of it more as making a decision about the past year: what belongs in the future, and what can be let go. Deleting older emails in bulk, removing subscriptions that no longer provide value and keeping just a small space – a single folder, even – for what genuinely matters going forward is often enough to free up mental capacity.

A clean inbox brings the same sense of relief as closing multiple browser tabs in your brain. It simplifies re-engagement with tasks, reduces unnecessary decision-making and creates space for creativity, thinking and real priorities. It can even make it easier to reply to messages without that feeling of dread.

You don’t need to be highly organised or love admin. You just need one intentional moment each year to reset your inbox. The holiday season offers that perfect window: a time when we naturally reflect, let go and create space for what comes next.

New year, new inbox – and perhaps also a little more room for calm mornings, clear thinking and that first cup of coffee enjoyed without digital chaos.

Paula

Just a note for myself (and future me who may question if it really happened):

I submitted my thesis.

Years of work, caffeine infusions, superfocus marathons, data tantrums, emotional dips, curious peaks, and endless perseverance… and today, that giant mountain finally got climbed. Not because it was easy, but because I believed in the purpose: to understand, to help, to make a difference. And because every participant, client, friend, and supporter unknowingly gave me momentum through their stories, trust, and willingness to be part of something bigger.

Not ADHD traits stopping me. Not age. Not fear.
Just strong purpose, stubborn hope, and sometimes that beautiful hyperfocus.

I’m proud. A little tired. And a lot grateful.
Thesis submitted.
The rest begins now. 🙂

Paula

Today I read a beautiful ABC story about a woman’s ADHD support group in Geraldton, WA — and it genuinely warmed my heart.

The group was started by Jessie, who was diagnosed with ADHD at 32. She said something that really stayed with me: “You get diagnosed and then you’re kind of sent off with a script and expected to figure the rest out.” That line hit hard — because I’ve heard it so many times from clients. The relief of a diagnosis often comes with a sense of abandonment: “Now what?”

One woman in the group, Lakeisha, shared that being part of it made her stop feeling “insane for having these experiences.” That word — insane — carries so much pain, but also shows how deeply internalised misunderstanding can be. She finally felt seen.

And Michele from ADHD WA pointed out how women and girls are still overlooked because the world expects ADHD to look like the “hyperactive little boy.” It’s heartbreaking how many women only find out in their 30s, 40s, or even later — after years of self-blame.

Reading this made me feel both sad and hopeful. Sad, because I know how many women have lived half their lives feeling “too much” or “not enough.” But hopeful, because this story shows what happens when they finally find community.

It reminded me that what I do — through coaching, listening, educating — is also about reconnection. Not just teaching tools, but helping people rebuild a relationship with themselves after years of misunderstanding.

I keep thinking about how powerful peer spaces are. I’d love to encourage more clients to find or create small ADHD circles — places where they can drop the mask, laugh, share chaos stories, and feel normal for once.

Mostly, I just feel grateful that conversations like this are finally being had out loud — even in regional towns like Geraldton. It’s a small sign of something bigger: that understanding is spreading, one group, one story, one woman at a time.

Paula

Lately, I’ve been hearing stories from students that leave me both frustrated and sad. They spend weeks—sometimes months—working on assignments, putting in late nights, pouring themselves into their research. They finally submit, often with a mix of relief and exhaustion. And then… nothing. Silence.

For many, that silence stretches on far too long. No feedback, no acknowledgment, no guidance. Just waiting. And while they wait, doubt creeps in: Did I do it right? Did it get lost? Am I failing without even knowing it?

This hits especially hard for students with ADHD. The uncertainty becomes its own distraction—spiraling thoughts, loss of motivation, even a sense of shame. They meet their deadlines, they keep their side of the bargain, but the system doesn’t always hold up its end. The result is stress, burnout, and a feeling that the work they’ve done disappears into a void.

What I hear most often isn’t anger about tough feedback—it’s the pain of no feedback. Students don’t expect perfection from professors, but they do need communication. Even a quick acknowledgment—I’ve received your work, it will take time to review—would calm so much of the storm.

Because silence isn’t neutral. It leaves students stranded, second-guessing themselves, and sometimes giving up on work they were once proud of. And that’s a cost no learning system should be comfortable with.

Paula

In my PhD research on ADHD and auditory processing, I’ve seen how stress and attention are tightly linked. Adults with ADHD often report listening difficulties, and when you combine this with stress sensitivity, the brain can feel like it’s juggling too many signals at once.

Recent studies describe this as “neural interference”—when older brain functions don’t fully switch off as newer ones develop. That overlap can make ADHD brains more reactive to stress, which then shows up in focus, mood, and even physical coordination.

This perspective is important because it reminds us that ADHD is not just about attention. It’s about how stress, sensory processing, and executive functions all interact in daily life. For coaching, this means building strategies that strengthen regulation, reduce stress, and make everyday tasks feel more manageable.

Paula

Lately, I’ve been having more conversations about the crossover between ADHD and autism. People often ask, “How do you know if it’s ADHD or autism? What if it’s both?”

The truth is, it’s not always easy to separate them. ADHD and autism can look like siblings. Similar in some ways, but very different in others. Both can involve difficulties with focus, overwhelm in busy environments, challenges with social situations, and a need for structure. Both can also come with incredible strengths: creativity, hyperfocus, passion, honesty, and unique ways of seeing the world.

But here’s where it gets tricky: the lived experience of ADHD and autism can feel very different. 

ADHD often shows up as restlessness, seeking stimulation, and jumping quickly between ideas. Autism can show up as deep focus, strong routines, sensitivity to sensory input, or difficulty shifting from one task to another. Put them together, and life can feel like driving with one foot on the accelerator and the other on the brake.

And yet, many people do have both (what’s sometimes called AuDHD). For them, the mix can be both confusing and clarifying. Confusing because the traits overlap and contradict each other. Clarifying, because finally there’s a word for why the world has always felt “too much” and “not enough” at the same time.

I’m not a psychiatrist or a psychologist. I don’t diagnose. But I do have a lot of experience working with neurodivergent people in research and coaching, and I see every day how these traits show up in real life. For me, the label is less important than the person in front of me. What matters is understanding how your brain works, what drains you, what lights you up, and how we can build strategies that honour both sides. Because whether it’s ADHD, autism, or both, the goal isn’t to “fix” anything! It’s to help you live in a way that feels more aligned, supported, and true to you <3

Paula 

Note: This reflection is based on my experience in ADHD and executive function coaching and research. It is not medical advice. If you’re wondering about a diagnosis or treatment, please reach out to a qualified healthcare professional 🙂

I wrote this journal entry after meeting someone who kept apologising for their English. It struck me because I did the same 🤔 I was apologising before I’ve even given myself a chance to speak. Living with ADHD and speaking in a second language can make you feel like every little slip is a disaster, but really, it’s just part of the mix.

Over time, I’ve learned a few little tricks that make this whole ADHD-plus-second-language adventure a bit easier. One of the biggest ones is permitting myself to pause. I used to panic if I lost a word or my brain went blank mid-sentence. Now I remind myself that silence isn’t failure. Sometimes the best thing is to breathe, slow down, and let my brain catch up. It feels much better than rushing and getting tangled.

I also keep what I call my “rescue list.” It’s just a small set of go-to words and phrases I know I can fall back on when my mind decides to play hide-and-seek with vocabulary. It’s not fancy, but it saves me from that frozen moment of “uhhh…” that used to make me feel so awkward.

Another thing I swear by is writing first and editing later. If I stop to fix every little grammar slip while I’m trying to get my thoughts out, I’ll lose the whole idea. So now I let it spill out, messy and imperfect, and only tidy it up afterwards. It feels a lot freer — and usually, the ideas are stronger for it.

And of course, I’ve made peace with using tools. Spellcheckers, grammar apps, text-to-speech. All of these things catch mistakes my brain just doesn’t see 🤣 They’re not cheating; they’re scaffolding. They give me space to focus on meaning rather than mechanics.

Finally, maybe the most important trick of all: I laugh at the slip-ups. “Poshy” may not be a real word (sadly!), but it makes for a great story and a reminder not to take myself too seriously. 

The mistakes are part of the journey, and sometimes they’re the part that makes me smile the most 😉

Paula

PS: These days I don’t apologise anymore — I just say: “If you don’t understand me, please let me know.” Much easier… and way more fun 😂 

When I first began learning about ADHD, I noticed that so much of the information out there felt heavy, negative, and focused on deficits. But that didn’t line up with what I was seeing in real people — their creativity, their energy, their drive, and the unique way their minds worked.

Over time, I discovered strength-focused voices in the ADHD community, and they completely shifted my perspective. These experts, many of whom have ADHD themselves, didn’t describe it as a disorder that needed fixing. Instead, they spoke about ADHD as a difference in the brain — one that comes with both challenges and gifts.

That shift really resonated with me. If I wanted to learn how to surf, I’d choose a teacher who’s been in the waves, not someone who only studied them from the shore. The same is true for ADHD: lived experience matters.

One of my clients once shared something that stuck with me: she said seeing me openly acknowledge my own struggles made her feel lighter. She realised she wasn’t alone — and even more importantly, she got the message that she doesn’t need to be fixed, because she isn’t broken.

That’s the heart of ADHD coaching. It’s not about erasing your ADHD, but about learning how your brain works, finding strategies that fit you, and leaning into your strengths. When you understand why you do what you do, you can stop fighting yourself — and start building a life that feels easier, more authentic, and more joyful.

Paula

Spending time with people who have ADHD always reminds me of something powerful:
Brains like ours aren’t broken — they’re just wired for a different kind of brilliance.

Last week, in conversations full of tangents, laughter, and “Oh! That reminds me…” moments, I saw the exact magic I wish the world would see more often. ADHD minds can leap from idea to idea like a spark skipping across kindling — unpredictable, dazzling, and full of possibility.

It also reminded me of the quieter truth: living with ADHD can feel like a constant tug-of-war between potential and overwhelm. I heard stories of energy bursts that fuel incredible creativity, but also of moments when the noise of life feels too loud to move.

And yet… in every single person I met this week, I saw resilience. I saw people learning to work with their brains, not against them. I saw pride in small wins. I saw the relief of being understood without having to explain.

Here’s what I’m holding onto tonight:
ADHD doesn’t define you, but it colours your world in ways that are uniquely yours. And that’s something worth protecting, nurturing, and celebrating.

Paula

Sophie is vibrant, witty, and incredibly insightful. She has ADHD — and like many of my clients — it doesn’t come alone. Anxiety, chronic fatigue, and sensory overload often tag along, making daily life feel like climbing a mountain in flip-flops.

She wakes up tired most days. Not “hit snooze once” tired — we’re talking soul-deep fatigue, before her feet even hit the floor. And then there's the mess — the dishes that feel like an accusation, the mysterious pile of laundry that seems to breed overnight, the forgotten to-do lists that whisper guilt.

But here’s the truth: Sophie is not lazy. She is not failing. She is living with a neurodivergent brain in a world that doesn’t always accommodate it. And even more importantly: she’s making progress. Real, meaningful, hard-won progress.

We started small. Tiny, almost invisible steps. But they’ve been adding up like quiet magic. She made a “morning starter kit” — a soft routine that works with her energy, not against it. A water bottle, gentle light, her favourite music, and one non-negotiable: be kind to yourself today. She tackled one clutter hotspot using the “15-minute blitz” — short bursts of action, followed by rest, not guilt. The chair is visible now. I know. We gasped too. She set a rule: if she feels overwhelmed, she doesn’t spiral — she messages me or jots it in her notebook. A little lifeline out of the fog. And, maybe most importantly, she gave herself permission to rest without earning it. That one was huge.

Sophie is learning to track her own rhythms, notice her executive function “dips,” and celebrate what her brain can do — not just what it finds hard.

And me? I’m so incredibly proud. Not because she’s suddenly living in a Pinterest-perfect home or ticking off endless to-do lists — that’s never been the goal. I’m proud because she’s showing up for herself with honesty, courage, and a bucketload of resilience. She’s not just “managing” ADHD and comorbidities. She’s understanding herself. Advocating for her needs. Finding ways to live a life that’s kinder, softer, and more sustainable.

That’s real success. And it’s worth celebrating.

If you see yourself in Sophie, you’re not alone. You’re not lazy. You are likely dealing with invisible challenges that deserve real support — and you deserve that support. As a coach, I’m here to walk alongside you — no judgment, no “fixing,” just real strategies, deep understanding, and a whole lot of cheering you on. Let’s figure it out, together. One sock, one breath, one small win at a time.

Yours, 

Paula.