I'm Frozen – A Day in the Life of AuDHD Depression
I'm frozen. And I know what you're going to say. “Take action. Just start. You have tools. You have a plan.”
I know. I do have a plan. I’ve even delegated the hard bits. I’ve made a whole toolkit to support myself through this. I want to take action. But here I am — again — staring at the screen like it might blink first.
This is the heavy, invisible stillness of an AuDHD freeze. (For the unfamiliar: AuDHD is when Autism and ADHD share the same brain — two systems that often pull in opposite directions.) It doesn't look like a crisis from the outside. It looks like... nothing. Like stillness. Like a person not starting. Not answering. Not moving.
But inside? Inside it’s static and sirens. It's guilt and grief and shutdown. It’s a tangled knot of “too much” and “not enough.”
⚡ When Inspiration Becomes Overwhelm
It always starts with a spark — an idea, a dopamine hit, a plan. I feel motivated. Excited. Ready. I’m going to take on the world!
And then it comes. The flood: tasks, tabs, timelines, tiny decisions. Notifications. App switching. Spell checking. Instructions from my brain. Words, words, words… Executive function turning into executive malfunction.
My brain hits the brakes. My body says no. And I freeze.
This isn’t the creative chaos of ADHD or the comforting focus of autism. This is the crash. The shutdown. The full-body no. No more of the assault.
🧠 What a Freeze Day Actually Looks Like
Freeze days are quiet, but brutal.
I scroll.
I snack.
I open tabs and forget why.
I sit still until my joints ache.
I think about knitting. I don’t knit.
I try to watch TV. Can’t find anything I like.
I fill up baskets of online shopping, thinking that this ‘this one viral product’ will make my life better and I’ll be out of the woods.
I feel empty - like I’ve evaporated from myself.
And beneath it all: guilt. Because I know what to do. I help other people do it all the time. But I can’t.
And I know I’m not alone.
🛑 The Collision of Autism and ADHD
Having both is like driving with the gas and brake pressed at once.
ADHD pulls me toward motion, novelty, stimulation.
Autism asks for stillness, safety, and structure.
Neither wins. So I shut down.
🚫 What Doesn’t Help
Telling myself to “just do it”
Comparing myself to neurotypicals
Shame spirals
To-do lists
Faking it
🌱 What Sometimes Helps
Every nervous system is different. But for me?
One tiny action (writing this sentence)
A warm drink I can actually feel in my hands
Soft socks or a heavy jumper
A quiet coloring page
Music with no words
Saying “I’m frozen” out loud
Not to fix it. Just to sit with it. Let the freeze thaw slowly, not force it to melt.
💬 A Note If You're Frozen Too
If today is a freeze day — you're not broken. You're not lazy. Your brain is not failing you. Your body is protecting you. This is how it keeps going.
You do not need to be productive to be worthy. You feel low because your body is used to hits of dopamine coming at you at a rate of knots, and they have suddenly stopped, and you are left bereft, and shivering. Like an addict going cold turkey. That is effectively what you are; in withdrawal.
Sometimes, the kindest thing we can do is stop trying to push through and instead let ourselves be with what is. Let ourselves be whatever we are in that moment, and let ourselves be seen — even if only by our own nervous system.
🧺 When I Can, I Use the Kit I Made
When I’m ready — and only then — I reach for the Freeze Day Survival Kit I created for myself and others. It’s not a planner. Not a to-do list. It’s a space. A soft restart. A way to gently re-enter life.
Created by a psychotherapist (me) who understands the freeze from the inside.
🖨️ Explore the Freeze Day Survival Kit
P.S. I didn’t write this alone. I dictated bits, reshaped it in fragments, and got support when I couldn’t finish a sentence. That’s not cheating. That’s adapting.
Delegation isn’t failure. It’s what gets us through.
