I’ve been reading Megan Griffith’s book Welcome to AuDHD: How to Survive (and Thrive) as an Adult with Autism and ADHD. In it, she references psychologist Devon Price, who has long argued that “laziness” is a myth, and even wrote a book called Laziness Does Not Exist.
Price reframes what most people call laziness as something else entirely: unmet needs, overwork, burnout, depression, trauma, or neurodivergence.
There’s a chance you felt an immediate urge to roll your eyes at that idea. This isn't a concept everyone is going to snuggle up to. But speaking with great confidence from my own experience, I can say the word lazy can be deeply toxic. It heaps scalding shame on people who are trying very hard, even when it doesn't seem like it.
The word rarely motivates. More often, it produces guilt or embarrassment. It ignores the internal, emotional, or neurological barriers that might be preventing someone from meeting an arbitrary standard of productivity or success.
And the danger of the word lazy isn’t just in how we use it on others. Sometimes it does the most damage when we turn it on ourselves.
I hear people casually say they had a “lazy day” because they binged a show or read a book instead of doing chores. But those same days could just as easily be described as rest days designed to recharge by doing something enjoyable. There is no need to attach negativity to relaxation.
Lazy has haunted me my whole life. If no one was outright calling me that, a look or a harsh comment would reinforce the same message. I internalized the shame: I must be lazy. Otherwise, how could I be smart yet accomplish so little? Why did I procrastinate cleaning my office? Why couldn’t I just take more initiative?
Lazy is an easy diagnosis. Someone isn’t handing things in, keeping things clean, or achieving the same level of success as others; so clearly, they’re lazy.
I’m not here to argue that laziness does or doesn’t exist. But I do believe that most of the time, there’s a deeper reason someone appears that way: fear, depression, neurodivergence, burnout, or other internalized struggles.
For most of my life, I beat myself up internally. Every morning felt like a fresh start. Today I’ll be productive. Today I’ll take on the world. And within weeks, or days, or hours, or minutes, I’d be disappointed in myself again.
I was told to try harder. Push through. Stay focused. And when someone was especially frustrated: “Just stop being so lazy.”
None of that ever turned me into a paragon of productivity. It only buried me deeper under shame and chipped away at my sense of self-worth.
Then I discovered I had autism and ADHD.
That discovery didn’t excuse everything, but it provided an explanation for so much. It gave language to the constant internal struggle. It explained why I’d felt like a husk for years, barely getting by on the minimum. It showed why to-do lists overwhelm me. It was a reason why big tasks caused me to rock for an hour, unsure where to begin. It was why creative work could energize me, while mundane tasks left me with headaches and aching muscles.
Most importantly, it gave me empathy.
I’m slower now to judge. I refuse to label. I don’t know what someone else is carrying or how their mind works. I do know that patience and compassion connect far better than ridicule or accusation. I’d rather understand than condemn.
So, whether laziness exists or not, I’ve decided it’s a word with very little value. I’m removing it from my vocabulary: both for others and for myself.
Rest, relaxation, and play don’t deserve shame. They’re not moral failures. They’re tools. They’re how we recharge. They’re often what make meaningful effort possible in the first place.
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