Time Blindness Isn’t Flakiness; It’s a Brain Thing
I was standing outside a coffee shop, staring at my phone like it had betrayed me. The meeting I’d scheduled? Yesterday. The friend I adore? Disappointed. Once again, I was “that person.” The flaky one.
Only… I’m not.
And neither are you.
I used to think I was just bad at life. Late to coffee dates. Forgetting appointments. Ghosting people I genuinely liked. Overcommitting to plans I never had the bandwidth to keep. Apologizing—constantly—for being “flaky.”
The truth: It’s not a character flaw. It’s time blindness.
Mix that with rejection sensitivity, perfectionism, and a nervous system running at full tilt, and you don’t just lose track of time… you lose trust in yourself.
Let’s talk about that spiral, shall we?
It always started with good intentions. I’d say yes to something, because I meant to show up. I wanted to be the person who followed through… and somehow, I’d forget. Not on purpose. Not because I didn’t care. The moment slipped out of my mental grasp and fell into the black hole of "not now."
Panic would follow. Then shame. Then avoidance. I’d ghost, cancel, or apologize profusely—sometimes all three—then spiral into a mess of thoughts like:
"They think I’m irresponsible. I can’t keep up. Maybe I am too much."
When that becomes your inner loop, it’s not just about missing a lunch date or being late to a meeting. It starts to feel like you can’t trust yourself.
This isn’t just about missed appointments. It’s the heartbreak of feeling unreliable when you are deeply committed. It’s the exhaustion of trying to “mask” how hard it is. It’s the loneliness of wondering why you can’t seem to just... keep up.
You’re in the right place if you’ve ever:
Felt like a “bad friend” because you forgot to reply
Been terrified of looking unprofessional, even though you care deeply
Lost hours to a task or avoided it until the shame kicked in
Welcome. You’re not alone.
Something I wish I’d known sooner
Time blindness is not carelessness. Forgetting doesn’t mean you didn’t care. Needing help remembering isn’t a sign of weakness. Time blindness is a neurological trait. A legit brain-based phenomenon—common in ADHD and other neurodivergent wiring—where time just doesn’t register in a linear, reliable way.
Time doesn’t tick second by second. It’s now or not now. That’s it.
When everything feels like now, it’s hard to prioritize. When nothing feels urgent until it’s too late, it’s hard to act. You might jump into hyperfocus or slip into avoidance. Either way, your calendar (and your relationships) take the hit.
Know this: it’s not your fault, and you’re not alone.
Rebuilding a foundation of self-trust
What’s helped me rebuild that shaky foundation of self-trust?
Timers.
Not just any timers. I name them like little reminders from future-me to present-me. "Get ready for coaching call," "Start dinner before it’s chaos," "Drink water, you brilliant desert flower." It makes me laugh. It also works. They remind me I’m allowed to pause, without judgment.
Anchoring events.
Think of them like buoys in the ocean of your day. I don’t check my calendar randomly. I check it while I make coffee. I respond to messages after I upload a podcast episode. I’ve paired important-but-easy-to-forget tasks with natural rhythms. It’s not rigid, it’s a map. A way to work with my brain.
Soft structure.
I don’t thrive in hour-by-hour time blocks. Themes, though? Those I can do. Mondays are for strategy. Tuesdays are client-heavy. Fridays are for admin and creative flow. The day still breathes, but I don’t feel lost in the void. It feels like exhaling.
Low-pressure accountability.
I’m not talking about rigid routines or shame-y planners that scold you for skipping a task. I mean gentle check-ins—like texting a trusted friend to say, “Hey, I’m hoping to get this done today. Can I let you know when I’ve started?”
Sometimes, just saying it out loud makes it real. Sometimes, a simple emoji reply is all the motivation you need. I’ve even used sticky notes on my wall that say, “Progress, not pressure.”
It’s not about being perfect—it’s about staying connected to your intention.
This kind of soft structure helps me show up without spiraling. It reminds me that I’m allowed to ask for support before I hit the overwhelm wall.
You can miss a step and still be dancing.
You can forget and still be trustworthy.
You can need support and still be powerful.
I see you. I am you.
If you’ve read this far and felt a sting of recognition—maybe even a lump in your throat—please hear this: You are not flaky. You are not irresponsible. You are not broken. You are a human with a unique brain trying to function in a world that wasn’t built for it. There’s no need to hustle harder to earn grace. You deserve support, not shame.
✨ So tell me: What helps you stay grounded in time? What stories are you ready to rewrite? What would your support-filled summer look like? Or just whisper your favorite quiet win in the comments, with a community who *gets it.*
With compassion and calendar alerts,
Your ADHD & Autism Guide,
– Dr. Ali 💛
P.S. If you need some ADHD-friendly tools and cozy brain-supporters, check out my Amazon Storefront. I’ve gathered my faves so you don’t have to spiral-scroll for hours looking for the right fit.
P.P.S. If you're craving more structured support, I’ve got a pocket full of Neurodiverse-friendly strategies built with your Beautiful Brain in mind. Ask me about it—I’d love to share.
