This one’s for the career women. Kid content resumes next post.
I had a bad week at work. Not bad in the way where I did something wrong — bad in the way where things kept going sideways despite my best efforts, a couple of projects got moved to other teams, and I spent several consecutive days feeling like I was losing ground I’d worked hard to build.
For context: I have a high level of ownership over the things I create. Programs I’ve built from the ground up, initiatives I’ve poured real effort into — when those move to someone else I know logically it’s because they’re growing and that’s a good thing. I also stand there watching them leave thinking please don’t mess this up, I have done so much work to make this what it is. Both things are true simultaneously and neither one fully cancels the other.
Anyway. Bad week. And I took it home.
My husband did the husband thing — told me I was great, that I was successful, that I was good at this. He meant every word of it and I love him for trying. And it made everything worse.
Not because he was wrong. Because in that specific mental state, encouragement from someone who hasn’t lived the work and can’t fully understand the context doesn’t land as support. It lands as you don’t get it. And then I feel more alone in it, not less, which is not what he was going for and definitely not his fault. It’s a communication thing I haven’t fully solved.
What I figured out — what I actually needed — was to accomplish something. Anything. Something where I could look at the result and feel the specific feeling of I did that and it went well. My brain was stuck in a failure loop and the only way out of the loop was to break it with a win, however small.
So we did a project around the house. I threw myself into it. Did it well. Finished it. Felt the thing I needed to feel.
And I came back to myself.
Here’s the part where I have to be honest: I know this is not entirely healthy. Using external accomplishment to regulate internal worth is a documented thing and it’s not a long-term solution and I’m aware of that. The ADHD brain chasing the dopamine hit of a completed task to override a shame spiral is a very real pattern and I am not above it.
But I also think awareness is the first step. I know what my brain is doing. I know what it needs. I know that my husband’s version of support and my nervous system’s version of support are speaking different languages right now and that’s a conversation I need to keep having with him.
So I’m asking — not for a friend — has anyone else identified this loop in themselves? The shame spiral that can only be broken by a win? And if you’ve found a way to work through it that doesn’t involve reorganizing a room at 9pm on a Thursday, I’m genuinely interested.
Fellow high-ownership, high-achiever, possibly-undiagnosed-ADHD people — how do you get out of the loop? Tell me everything in the comments.
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