Neurodivergent Time, ADHD Overwhelm & Autism: Why Prioritising Is Hard
- Siana McGarvey
- Feb 28
- 6 min read
Updated: 7 hours ago
When everything feels “Now,” prioritising can feel impossible. In our episode A Matter of Time, we explore neurodivergent strategies like eat the ice cream, one thing at a time, and seasonal cycles of energy.
How neurodivergent time, overwhelm, and motivation can be surprisingly counterintuitive.
There was something in our conversation that landed for me because it named a very specific neurodivergent experience: how difficult it can be to prioritise when everything feels immediate. Not just urgent, but now. As Leo put it, when you’re looking at a whole bunch of tasks and they all seem to exist at the same volume, prioritising becomes doubly difficult.
He reminded me of something we’d spoken about a few days earlier, the timeline in my head. The way time can feel like it has three “moments” only:
Ages ago
Now
Not for ages
That made me laugh when we first said it out loud… and then it made me pause. Because it’s true. For me, so much sits in the immediacy of the present, and anything outside of that can feel strangely inaccessible, unless something opens a portal to it. And that’s where the tension starts, isn’t it?
So much mainstream “wellness” and mindfulness language holds being fully in the moment as an ideal. Detach from the past. Detach from the future. Be here, now. But for a lot of neurodivergent people, that idea can fall over. Not because we’re failing at it, but because we often need stimulation, context, and a sense of what’s coming in order to feel regulated enough to function at all.
For some of us, being “only in the moment” doesn’t feel peaceful. It feels like being surrounded by tasks that all want to be done at the same time.
When everything is Now, nothing can be prioritised
Leo described something many ADHDers (and plenty of autistic people) recognise: the paralysis that comes when every task feels immediate and equally pressing. There isn’t enough “distance” between tasks to lay them out in a calm order. It becomes hard to decide what matters most because everything has the same urgency. And in that state, even “simple” systems can feel impossible to implement.
He shared a time management image from the corporate world: the pint glass, the sand, and the rocks. The temptation, he said, is to do the small easy things first, the sand. And then the bigger tasks, the rocks, won’t fit. The idea is you put the rocks in first, and the sand fills the gaps. And there’s a modern version of that too: “Eat the Frog.” Do the worst thing first. Then everything else feels easier.
It makes perfect sense. But I remember thinking, I can’t eat a frog. Not as a metaphor. As a felt truth. If the first step is too big, too intense, too unpalatable, then I’m stuck at the first hurdle. And for many neurodivergent people, that’s the reality. The “worst task first” approach can become another demand we can’t meet.
Which is why there’s a neurodivergent reframe I love: "Eat the Ice Cream". Start with the thing that’s easiest, most pleasant, most doable, because we’re motivated by reward. Because dopamine matters. Because getting started is often the hardest part. And because sometimes the “Big Thing” is not doable until we’ve found a way into the day.
The “lollipop” and the transition into doing
This part of our conversation brought me straight back to parenting. When Lana was little, she couldn’t transition into eating. Dinner could be right there, but her body couldn’t cross the threshold into food. So I did what I called waking her mouth up. I would give her a lollipop first.
I can imagine how that looked to other people. You’re giving your child the treat before dinner?
But I wasn’t spoiling her. I was supporting the transition. Helping her body remember: food is okay, food is nice, food is something we can move towards. And honestly… I think it’s the same with tasks.
Sometimes there’s something we need in between the rock and the sand. In between the frog and the ice cream. Something that doesn’t have to be wonderful, it just has to be palatable. Something we can start with that gets us into the place where work happens, or the place where momentum becomes possible. And then, once we’re “in”, something else can come.
One thing at a time… and only one thing
Leo shared another strategy that feels both simple and extremely difficult: when you can’t prioritise, you choose one thing, put it in front of you, and literally put the rest away. The list goes out of sight. And the permission is: this is the only thing you have to do. Not as a productivity trick. As nervous system kindness.
Because the pressure of the whole list waiting behind you can be paralysing. Even if you manage one task, the thought of returning to the tyrant list can make starting feel impossible. I resonated with this, but I also noticed something important in myself: I’d use this in certain seasons, not all the time. When I’m feeling heavy or gloomy or more challenged, that kind of narrow focus can be incredibly supportive. It allows “enough” to be enough. But in other seasons… I’m the opposite.
Seasonal energy, “ADHD paradise”, and the mixing desk inside us
There are times of the year where I don’t want one task, I want ten. I want them all visible. I want post-its and colours and the satisfaction of ticking things off and switching between them. There is overwhelm in that, yes… but there are also parts of me that are completely engaged and delighted. Yay yay yay parts. Interested parts. Researchy parts. Curious parts.
And for me, it helps to know that this is cyclical. That it doesn’t last forever. That it’s part of a bigger system. Those “activated” parts are helping the parts that will need to slow down later.
It isn’t a race towards burnout. It’s seasonal.
This led us into something I think is really important, the way neurodivergence isn’t just a spiky profile across different people, it can be a spiky profile within the same person, depending on season, context, stress, support, and a hundred other variables.
Leo described it like a graphic equaliser. A mixing desk. The sliders move. And that matters. Because you can “meet” one autistic person, and meet them again a month later, and they may be having a very different experience of themselves.
Memory, “only now”, and portals to the past
We returned again to that “only now” theme.
I don’t reliably remember what I did at the weekend if you ask me directly. But if something evokes a memory, if I’m in a place that reminds me, or a person is in front of me, or something relational triggers it, then suddenly I can tell you what happened 36 weekends ago in vivid detail. It isn’t that memory isn’t there, it’s that access is different. There has to be a portal.
Leo compared it to an private investigator's office wall in a crime movie, with red string connecting notes and photo's. That’s how time can feel for some of our neurokin: complex webs of associations rather than a neat, linear timeline. And I think this links back to task management too. Because so many “solutions” assume linear access. “Just plan your week.” “Just break it down.” “Just do it at 7am every day.”
But for me, so much of what works is a nudge from inside. A moment of readiness. A spark. Something evoked. You can’t just tell me to journal at a certain time. It won’t happen. But if something in me says now, I’ll find a way to follow it. I’ll find sand that fits in.
How this shows up in my work as a therapist
This made me think about supervision.
I can’t simply show up at a set time and on demand remember everything I need to bring. It doesn’t work that way. I need an ongoing notepad where things go as they arise. I need time for reflection to gather gradually. I can’t “prepare” for supervision two hours before. That will be blank too.
It has to be collected in the living of it. And I think that’s a really compassionate reframe for neurodivergent people in general:
You’re not failing to be organised. You might just need a different kind of access. A different kind of pacing. A different kind of portal.
Closing thoughts
A lot of what helps neurodivergent overwhelm is counterintuitive.
Sometimes “Eat the Frog” works. Sometimes it’s "Eat the Ice Cream". Sometimes the list needs to disappear. Sometimes the post-its need to be everywhere. Sometimes there is only now. And sometimes now becomes a portal to everything.
The deeper question isn’t “what’s the right system?” It’s: "what is palatable today?" What fits in this season? What helps my body transition into doing? What supports me without turning my life into a battle? And maybe that’s the most neurodivergent answer of all, the order doesn’t matter as much as the kindness.
You can hear our full conversation in S3E1 - A Matter of Time.
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