Silent Pain

I cringe anytime I hear someone called “lazy.” It’s an easy label to slap on in a society where productivity is worshipped, “busy” is a badge of honor, and success is something you’re supposed to constantly display. If someone misses deadlines, struggles to keep up at work, or doesn’t appear to carry their “load” at home, then what else do you call them?

The truth is, that label requires no effort. Understanding does. Because behind what looks like laziness, there is usually something far more complicated. Yes, sometimes people don’t care about a particular task, or they’re waiting for something better. But how many people actually want to drift aimlessly through life, never tasting accomplishment, never proving to themselves they can do something meaningful? Very few.

I know this because “lazy” has followed me most of my life.

In high school, I’d agree to big projects but then scramble them together last minute or fail to hand them in at all. In offices, I struggled to complete certain tasks on time because my mind wandered. At home, I don’t plan as many family outings as I’d like, or pull off surprises for my wife as often as I wish. The last few years, I haven’t had steady work, I’ve been behind financially, and this site and podcast — my creative lifelines — have suffered.

From the outside, the evidence is damning. Lazy. Unfocused. Uncommitted.

But it isn’t true.

Every day I wake up convinced it will be the day. The day I break the cycle. The day I fill the page with words, the site with reviews, the air with ideas. I don’t lack passion. I don’t lack desire. What I carry instead is a crushing cocktail of anxiety, shame, frustration, and exhaustion. The daily war in my head is invisible, but it is relentless.

I live with AuDHD — autism and ADHD — which means my brain is constantly battling overwhelm, executive dysfunction, and time blindness. Even small things like making a phone call or starting a task can feel like mountains. Every day I’m asking myself: Will I land work soon? Can I plan something meaningful for the people I love? Will I ever finish the books and stories I’ve started? Can I get help to finally manage my brain instead of just surviving it?

It looks like laziness. But it’s really silent pain.

Speaking that out loud — admitting I’m not okay, that I feel trapped in this cycle — is my first step toward breaking it.

And I still believe I can. My plan is to pour myself into creating the best work I’ve ever done for this site. If you’ve valued what I’ve written before and want to help me keep going, I’d be grateful for any support through PayPal. But more than that, I’d be grateful for your understanding that “lazy” is never the whole story.