THE TRUTH.
I didn’t start this podcast because I had clarity.
I started it because something finally had a name.
For most of my life, I believed that if I just tried harder—if I stayed focused, pushed through, disciplined myself better—things would eventually line up. Effort would lead to results. Confidence would follow consistency. That’s how it’s supposed to work.
Except it didn’t.
What I experienced instead was something much quieter and harder to explain: a slow erosion of self-trust. A growing belief that no matter how capable or motivated I was, the outcome would eventually fall apart. Not catastrophically at first—just enough to reinforce a pattern I couldn’t ignore.
I could start things easily. That was never the issue. I could see possibilities, imagine outcomes, feel momentum at the beginning. But sustaining that effort felt increasingly risky. Because every time things slowed down—as they always did—the doubt crept in. Not loud doubt. Convincing doubt. The kind that feels factual.
Eventually, something in me shut down.
Not because I stopped trying.
Because continuing began to feel like setting myself up to be exposed again.
The Word That Changed Everything
A few weeks ago, while searching for answers, I came across a definition from the National Institutes of Health for ADHD-related demoralization. I didn’t just understand it—I felt it.
Demoralization describes what happens after years, sometimes decades, of effort without reward. When outcomes don’t match input. When emotional regulation is strained. When self-esteem erodes not because of laziness or lack of ability, but because the system you’re operating in doesn’t align with how your brain works.
For the first time, my experience wasn’t framed as a personal failure.
It was contextualized.
That distinction matters more than it sounds.
Unrealized ADHD and the Cost of Not Knowing
I grew up with ADHD at a time when it wasn’t well understood—especially in girls. There wasn’t language for what I was experiencing, and certainly no roadmap. Like many neurodivergent people, I learned to cope long before I learned to understand.
Masking became second nature. Over-functioning filled the gaps. On the outside, things often looked fine. Sometimes even successful. But inside, the cost kept compounding.
When ADHD goes unrealized, the damage isn’t always obvious. It shows up later—as hesitation, paralysis, self-doubt, and a reluctance to trust yourself with anything that matters too much.
That’s the part no one really talks about.
Why This Exists
Demoralized isn’t about fixing anything—at least not yet. It’s about telling the truth out loud. About tracing the line between effort and outcome, confidence and collapse, and asking what actually happened instead of defaulting to blame.
I don’t know where this journey leads. I don’t know what changes next. But I do know this: understanding has already shifted something. And staying present—rather than forcing resolution—feels like the most honest place to start.
If this episode resonated with you, my hope isn’t that you take action or draw conclusions. It’s simply that you recognize the weight you’ve been carrying may have an explanation—and that you’re not alone in it.
For now, that’s enough.