RED LIGHT, RED LIGHT, RED LIGHT - This triptych was written from a voice note, in a car, while constantly stopping at red lights.

 BLOG POST 2 —

RED LIGHT, RED LIGHT, RED LIGHT

I woke up late. Not “a bit late”. Late‑late. The kind of late where the world has already started without you and you’re still in the prologue.

I missed my antibiotics. My ears were doing their underwater symphony. And every single traffic light turned red. Every. Single. One.

It felt like the universe was saying, “Stop.” And I was saying, “I can’t, I’ve got plans.” And the universe was saying, “No, really, stop.” And I was saying, “I’ve got micro‑plans, actually, and they’re manageable.” And the universe was saying, “Red light.” And I was saying, “I hear you but I’m still going.”

I used to be early for everything. I built systems around my lateness before I even knew it was AU-DHD. I padded time. I over‑prepared. I left margins. I lived in a constant state of readiness because I didn’t trust my brain.

Then I got diagnosed. And I softened. And I let myself be human. And now I’m late. Not because I don’t care — but because my brain is a time‑blind, sensory‑overloaded, emotionally‑busy machine.

Today was one of those days where lateness snowballs. I cancelled my lunch because I didn’t think I should drive. But I’d already made backup plans — micro‑plans — because that’s who I am. And then the micro‑plans became late too. (by micro I mean my family) And suddenly I was juggling guilt and logistics and the feeling that I’m failing everyone even though I’m doing my best.

But here’s the truth: I still managed. I talked to my son. I talked to my daughter. I met a friend — not the planned friend, but a friend. She got me breakfast. I talked about LA with Rich who never usually wants to talk. I even bumped into someone from Book Club while wearing the same clothes as last night, which is basically the walk of shame but for middle‑aged women who had a great evening and overslept.

Red light, red light, red light. Stop, stop, stop. But I didn’t stop. I kept going. And maybe that’s the point: the signs aren’t always warnings. Sometimes they’re just markers on the road saying, “You’re still here. You’re still moving. Even if slowly.”

Footnote- triggered by literally getting caught at every light.

Tags: ADHD, lateness, time-blindness, daily-chaos, emotional-regulation

FOOTNOTE FOR ALL THREE POSTS

This triptych was written from a voice note, in a car, while constantly stopping at red lights — a whole day lived in fragments, stitched together afterwards.