It’s the summer holidays. The season of hammocks, beach reads, and lazy afternoon naps. If I were normal (whatever that even means), I’d be resting and chilling right now.
Except, I don’t actually know how to do that.
Not properly. Not fully.
For years, I thought I was bad at relaxing. Everyone else seemed to sink into a nap or a film without guilt. I’d try and feel frustrated because my brain was buzzing like a fridge. Sometimes I’d think, “Fine, I’ll just lie here and rest.”
But that never happened.
Instead, I’d keep scrolling, keep thinking, keep planning. And when I did finally stop? It wasn’t a light nap. It was a dose out – full sleep, like someone unplugged me. I’d wake up disoriented, stiff, with jumper lines on my face and that awful “what just happened?” feeling.
For a long time, I thought this meant I was lazy or incapable of relaxing.
Turns out, I’m neither.
I’m AuDHD – I’m autistic and ADHD – and there’s a reason my brain doesn’t do rest like everyone else.
Reason 1: My brain craves stimulation (ADHD)
ADHD brains don’t regulate dopamine like typical brains. Dopamine is the “reward and motivation” chemical. When levels are low, we feel restless and uncomfortable. Sitting still with “nothing happening” doesn’t feel calming to me – it feels like torture.
That’s why I reach for something – a phone, music, a project – even when I want to rest. It’s not lack of discipline. It’s chemistry.
Reason 2: My nervous system is always on (Autism)
Autistic people often live with a nervous system that runs hotter than average. We process sensory input differently – sounds, textures, lights, even our own thoughts.
Even when the house is quiet, I’m scanning: What’s that noise? Did I forget something? How’s the light?
Stillness doesn’t feel safe; it feels strange.
Reason 3: Masking and hyperfocus burn me out
Running my own CIC and business means I’m “on” a lot – making decisions, supporting people, holding space, masking in social situations, thinking ahead.
That creates a hidden energy drain. When my body finally shuts down, it’s not restful. It’s a crash – like someone yanking the batteries out of a toy.
Reason 4: Guilt about stopping
This is a big one. ADHD brains often link value to output: If I’m not doing, I’m failing. Add being self-employed, and I always feel like I should be doing something useful. Even when I plan rest, my mind runs: emails, funding bids, social media, content ideas.
So, what does rest look like for me?
Here’s the truth: I don’t rest the way other people do.
And that’s okay.
For me, rest is:
- A book playing in the car while I drive.
- A cold drink while I scroll or research something that excites me (not work, just curiosity).
- Curling up with my dog, just being with him while I do something else.
- Swimming or aqua aerobics – 45 minutes of movement and peace, like I loved as a kid.
- And sometimes? Brown noise.
Music is wonderful – I love it – but it doesn’t soothe me in the same way. Music takes me places, sparks ideas, makes me feel. Brown noise just… holds me. It’s steady, predictable, like my brain can finally drop its shoulders because nothing’s about to change or surprise me. For someone whose nervous system is usually stuck on ‘on’, that’s gold.
These things aren’t “doing nothing.” But they are downtime – they give my brain something safe to focus on while my body recovers.
This summer, I’m giving myself permission to rest differently
Instead of feeling guilty because I don’t nap or meditate perfectly, I’m accepting how my brain works. I’m learning to catch myself earlier – before the crash – and do things that calm me in my own way.
Because here’s the truth:
If you have AuDHD and struggle to “rest and chill,” you’re not broken, lazy, or bad at adulting. Your brain is just wired differently.
Your permission slip (I need this too!)
Rest doesn’t have to look like silence and stillness. It just has to feel like a break from survival mode. If your version of rest is walking the dog, listening to an audiobook, or tinkering with Lego, that’s valid. That counts.
We don’t need to rest like everyone else.
We need to rest like us.
What about you?
What does rest look like for your brain? And if you’re still figuring it out this summer, you’re not alone – so am I.