Janine Defontaine

If your brain wants to curl up in a ball and become a weighted blanket, this one’s for you.

Winter has well and truly arrived, and my ADHD/AuDHD brain has entered hibernation mode.

The cold is rude.
The dark mornings? Uncalled for.
The transitions are dramatic.
The sensory stuff is sensory-ing.

Side eye to the woolly cardigan I put on today that has been itching my neck for hours, while I have mostly ignored it, despite knowing full well I’ll probably end up with red claw marks later.

Could I take it off? Yes.
Have I? No.
Why? Great question. Please submit it to the executive function department, currently offline for maintenance.

Lunch today was packet soup.
Was it fancy? No.
Was it warm? Yes.
Did I need to be heated from the inside out? Absolutely.

This is your reminder that winter hibernation mode doesn’t mean you’re lazy.

Sometimes your capacity has shifted, and your expectations haven’t caught up yet.

So instead of asking, “Why can’t I do the thing?”

Try:

“What’s the smallest version of this that still counts?”

Shower too hard? Wash your face.
Exercise too much? Do one stretch.
Cooking impossible? Packet soup counts (or my personal fave - grilled cheese on toast).
Admin overwhelming? Open one email. Just opening it counts.

Freya, my rescue Doberman and unofficial VA, would like to add that she also has opinions about textures, baths and being asked to transition before she is emotionally prepared.

So, she gets it.

What’s your winter brain making weirdly hard right now? Freya and I are accepting submissions!

Pictured: me, still wearing the itchy cardigan. Because apparently taking it off was too many steps.

This is Freya and me during my recent time off, after her diabetes diagnosis, meditating together on the bed.

Not exactly a glossy “content creation” moment.

But maybe that’s the point.

I’ve been thinking a lot about visibility, writing, marketing, and how to stay connected without self-combusting — especially as someone with an AuDHD brain that can go all-in, disappear into the mist, then return like I’ve been hiding in a cupboard.

So I’ve started writing again.

Not with a grand comeback.
Not with a 12-part content strategy.
Absolutely not with a Reel.

Just reflections.

My first new blog post is called Visible, But Not Combusting — about returning to writing, staying visible without burning out, and building a more sustainable relationship with creativity, marketing, and neurodivergent identity.

Check it out here: https://janinedefontaine.com/visible-but-not-combusting/

I’ve been thinking a lot about something I saw recently — the idea that Autistic people “can’t rest”… that we’re wired to keep going, to push through, and that’s just how we are.

And while that can feel true, it’s not the whole story.

The “we all…” statements, even when well-intentioned, can flatten a lot of nuance, and leave people feeling like they don’t quite fit or that this is the only way to be.

I felt this myself when I was first diagnosed with ADHD. At first, there was a sense of relief — like I’d found something that finally made sense.

But over time, I started to feel a disconnect. What I was seeing didn’t fully reflect my experience… and I found myself feeling like I didn’t quite belong there either. (Later came some more answers in the form of Autism and C-PTSD)

(And honestly, more exhausted than before.)

What I’ve learned since is this:

Rest is a skill.

It’s not always intuitive.
It doesn’t look the same for everyone.
And it’s not about forcing yourself into rigid routines or idealised “self-care”.

It’s about:

✔️ understanding your patterns and capacity
✔️ building supports and tools around you
✔️ creating space to regulate, restore and reset

Slowly. Safely. In ways that actually work for you.

Because pushing through isn’t sustainable.

And we don’t need to earn rest by burning ourselves out first.

Full post on the blog:

Rest is a skill (and I had to learn it the hard way) - Janine Defontaine There's a difference between "this is how my brain works" and "this is a dysregulated state." On learning rest as a skill, not through burnout.