The Invisible Cost of Existing Differently
ADHD Taxes: The Real Cost of Living With a Neurodivergent Brain
I’ve quit before. Quitting is cheap
you just stop showing up,
stop opening the envelopes,
stop pretending you’re going to cook the $18 chicken breasts sweating in the fridge. Boom. Done. Free.
But surviving?
Dragging yourself through the day with a brain that argues with you over groceries, bills, basic fucking breathing
that shit is expensive.
It costs in late fees I could’ve avoided in forty-five seconds
if I hadn’t spent fourteen days paralyzed.
It costs in greasy bags of takeout that were never about hunger,
they were about keeping me from spiraling.
It costs in shame stacked on shame stacked on shame,
like interest compounding on a loan I never agreed to take out.
And the worst part?
The world looks at that mess and calls it waste.
Calls it lazy.
Calls it failure.
But here’s the math nobody writes down:
failure is cheap.
survival bleeds you.
and I’m still here, still paying, still fucking alive.
And yeah, I know, I've already said it.
But here’s the part nobody talks about:
the shame is more costly than the food, bills, and fees.
Shame accrues interest.
It compounds.
It consumes you from the inside out before anyone else even sees the bill.
They’ve got a name for it now: ADHD taxes.
But don’t let the cute label fool you.
It’s not a budgeting issue. It’s survival math.
Why are we surprised
or ashamed that having a brain not built for this world comes with costs?
This isn’t a flaw.
This is the cost of doing business
with a brain wired for disruption, pattern, and panic breathing.
The Cost of Groceries, Shame, and Decision Fatigue
Yeah, I forgot to pick up groceries
and ended up not using them.
I also ordered DoorDash two days in a row.
I wasted $18 on chicken breasts that I meant to cook during my good planning time, but it never happened.
I don’t track all my expenses, and no, trying to do better doesn't make me feel any better.
“I’m not wasting money.
I’m buying relief
from a shame spiral
that doesn’t accept payment plans.”
They say, “Cook at home, it’s cheaper.”
But cheaper for whom?
By the time I plan the meal,
buy the ingredients,
come home,
clean the counter,
forget what I planned,
freeze up from decision fatigue,
and throw out three moldy containers
I could’ve eaten out
and still spent less.
ADHD Math Isn’t Balance, It’s Survival
ADHD math doesn’t look like balance.
It looks like survival.
It’s wearing the same hoodie for four days
Because decision paralysis is more expensive than laundry.
It’s paying a late fee
on a bill that took 45 seconds to pay
but 14 days to face.
It’s losing time, then blaming yourself for being unable to time-travel.
Shame That Shows Up Before the Bill
And then there’s the judgment.
Not from others.
From yourself.
In the car.
At the drive-thru.
Ordering food you could’ve made
with groceries you never touched.
Telling yourself “this is the last time”
for the ninth time this week.
You’re alone.
No one’s watching.
And you still feel like you’ve done something wrong.
Executive Dysfunction Doesn’t Show on a Receipt
But what they don’t calculate
What never shows up in the receipts
is executive dysfunction.
Not just a distraction.
Not just delay.
The freeze that happens
When a task feels like a locked door with no key,
even when it’s something simple,
even when it’s something important,
even when you care.
“I’ve stared at unopened bills like they were threats.
Let invoices pile up because I couldn’t bring myself to log in.
Let contracts go unsigned because I wasn’t sure I was worth what they offered me.”
Not because I’m lazy.
Because my brain won’t let me believe
the consequences are real until it’s too late to respond.
We Don’t Ask for Help, We Just Drown Quietly
And the worst part?
We don’t ask for help.
We wait until we’re buried.
Until it’s too late.
Until someone else notices.
Because we’ve been trained to believe
that asking for help makes us irresponsible
when in reality, asking is what we were never taught to do.
“That’s not just an ADHD tax.
That’s emotional interest charged monthly
for the crime of not being neurotypical.”
I Don’t Need a Budget I Need Grace
I don’t want budgeting advice.
I want shame-adjusted emotional accounting.
I want to calculate time lost to masking.
I want to line-item regret.
I want to budget grief
like other people budget gas.
“I don’t want budgeting advice.
I want shame-adjusted emotional accounting.”
We’re Still Here And That’s the Math That Matters
We’re Still Here And That’s the Math That Matters
Yes, ADHD costs us. But it also saves us.
We know how to solve shit sideways. We know how to work fast, love weird, move impulsively, and recover.
And when things fall apart, we don’t panic.
We pivot.
Because we’ve never taken the same route twice, and we’re still fucking here.
Let them label it waste. Let them call it failure.
But we know the truth:
Every dollar spent “wrong,” every detour, every messy pivot—it wasn’t carelessness. It was survival. It was proof we refused to quit.
That’s not a loss. That’s profit.
And the balance sheet never lies:
we’re still here.
We’re still dangerous.
We’re still fucking unstoppable
I just threw out another bag of salad I forgot about. I don’t know why I buy them anymore.
Shame is the enemy 🩷