Hey there!

Happy Momentum Monday (on a Sunday)! 

Have you ever had someone explain something to you, nodded along like you totally understood, and then walked away thinking:

I have absolutely no idea what they just asked me to do.

So now you have two options:

Ask them to repeat themselves and risk feeling annoying…

or spend the next 20 minutes trying to reverse-engineer their vague-ass instructions like you’re solving a murder mystery.

Naturally, many of us choose option two.

Not because it makes sense.

Because somewhere along the way, we learned that needing clarification meant we weren’t paying attention, weren’t smart enough, or were being a burden.

And when things go wrong, our first thought is rarely:

Maybe that wasn’t explained very clearly.

It’s usually:

Shit. I messed up again.

Maybe You’re Not the Problem

I was recently talking with a coaching client about a situation at work.

His manager asked him to do something near “the blue racking.”

The problem?

There was blue racking in multiple places.

The instruction made sense to the manager because he already knew exactly which area he meant. But my client didn’t have the same picture in his head.

Still, his immediate reaction was not:

“Those directions were vague.”

It was:

“I should know what he means.”

That led us into a much bigger conversation about how many ADHDers automatically assume that other people are right and we are the ones missing something.

They’re up here.

We’re down here.

They communicated perfectly.

We failed to understand.

But hold on.

What if the instructions actually weren’t clear?

What if the expectation was unrealistic?

What if the other person left out important information?

What if you are not supposed to magically know what is happening inside someone else’s brain?

How We Learn to Distrust Ourselves

A lot of ADHDers have spent years hearing things like:

“You weren’t listening.”

“We already went over this.”

“You should know this by now.”

“Why do I have to keep repeating myself?”

“Everyone else understands.”

After enough of that, you stop examining the situation objectively.

You stop asking whether the instructions were clear.

You stop considering whether the environment was distracting.

You stop wondering whether the other person communicated badly.

Instead, you go straight to:

It must be me.

That is where internalized ableism can start sneaking in.

Internalized ableism is not just openly thinking ADHD is bad.

Sometimes it looks like assuming your needs are unreasonable.

It looks like believing everyone else’s way of doing something is automatically the correct way.

It looks like treating your need for written instructions, extra processing time, examples, reminders, or clarification as evidence that you are less capable.

It looks like pretending you understand because asking one more question feels more dangerous than guessing.

The Masking Trap

Here’s the really frustrating part.

Pretending you understand usually creates more work.

You nod.

You say, “Yep, no problem.”

You walk away with about 40% of the information.

Then you guess what they meant.

Maybe you get it right.

Maybe you don’t.

Maybe you have to go back later and ask anyway.

Now you have spent more time, experienced more anxiety, and possibly made a mistake that could have been avoided with one question at the beginning.

This is masking.

You are trying to appear like you process information in a way that you don’t.

You are hiding the need for clarification because you don’t want to inconvenience anyone.

But needing five extra minutes at the beginning is usually a lot less inconvenient than spending two hours doing the wrong thing.

This Is Not About Avoiding Responsibility

To be very clear, this is not an invitation to decide that nothing is ever your fault.

Sometimes we do miss details.

Sometimes we forget something we were told.

Sometimes we rush, zone out, or misunderstand.

ADHD can absolutely affect how we receive, hold onto, and act on information.

But having ADHD does not mean you are automatically at fault in every confusing interaction.

Sometimes you missed something.

Sometimes they explained it badly.

Sometimes both things happened.

The goal is not to blame someone else.

The goal is to stop automatically blaming yourself.

Try the “Maybe It’s Not Just Me” Pause

The next time you feel confused, embarrassed, or convinced that you should already know something, pause before declaring yourself the problem.

Ask yourself:

Was the instruction actually clear?

Could someone who did not already know the answer reasonably understand what was being asked?

“Handle the kitchen” might mean dishes to one person and a full deep clean to another.

“Get that thing near the blue racks” is not specific if there are fifteen blue racks.

Am I missing information, or am I being expected to read minds?

Those are not the same thing.

You cannot fill in details that were never given to you.

What would help me understand this?

Would you benefit from:

• A written list?
• A visual example?
• A clearer deadline?
• A demonstration?
• A more specific location?
• Knowing what “finished” should look like?

You are allowed to ask for the format that helps you process information.

Can I clarify now instead of guessing later?

Try:

“I want to make sure I understand. Can you show me what you mean?”

“When you say ‘take care of it,’ what specifically needs to be done?”

“Can you send that to me in writing so I don’t miss anything?”

“I process this better visually. Could you walk me through an example?”

“What does finished look like for this task?”

These are not stupid questions.

They are communication tools.

Your Needs Are Not a Personal Failure

Your brain may need information delivered differently.

That does not make you slow.

It does not make you difficult.

It does not make you less intelligent.

It means you have enough self-awareness to know what helps you do the job well.

That is a strength.

And yes, there may still be people who respond impatiently.

There may still be managers, partners, teachers, or family members who act like your questions are inconvenient.

Their reaction does not automatically mean your need was unreasonable.

Someone else being impatient is not proof that you are too much.

This Week’s Action Item

This week, look for one moment when your brain immediately says:

I’m the problem.

Pause before accepting that verdict.

Ask yourself whether the instructions were actually clear.

Then ask one clarifying question instead of pretending, guessing, or quietly panicking.

You do not have to prove the other person wrong.

You are simply giving yourself permission to gather the information you need before deciding that you “failed.”

You are responsible for learning how your brain works and communicating what helps you function.

You are not responsible for turning every confusing interaction into evidence that something is wrong with you.

Sometimes you missed something.

Sometimes they explained it badly.

Learning to tell the difference is one small way to start rebuilding self-trust.

Until next week, keep noticing, keep experimenting, and keep choosing momentum over self-blame.

Leah 🌶️