Not just on the year I’ve had personally, but on what I’ve learned along the way.

This year, some very clear themes showed up again and again — particularly through my work with ADHD and AuDHD adults, leaders, and professionals.

Here are the main things I’ve learned this year. They’re not insights you’ll find in typical ADHD hacks or productivity tips.

1. people don’t need more hacks — they need less friction

People rarely struggle because they “don’t know what to do” or are unmotivated.

More often, people feel stuck because:

• their energy is treated as unlimited.
• their environment doesn’t match how their brain actually works
• recovery time is invisible (or not acknowledged at all)
• expectations are unclear, unspoken, confusing or constantly shifting.

This is usually a systems, process, and communication issue — not a motivation problem.

When friction is reduced, people don’t need to be pushed. They naturally move forward.

2. Capability is often mistaken for capacity

One of the biggest contributors to burnout I see is this mismatch.

People are capable, intelligent, experienced, and skilled — and they work bloody hard. Many are high performers, so more gets added to their plate.

More work.
Additional responsibility.
More emotional labour.
Unspoken expectations.

But capacity isn’t considered.

The friction shows up when:

• expectations don’t match nervous system capacity
• energy and focus are treated as infinite
• recovery time isn’t factored in
• transitions are underestimated

Capacity fluctuates based on stress, health, sensory load, hormones, life circumstances, energy patterns, time of day, and nervous system state.

Burnout happens when capacity is ignored simply because someone can.

3. The Hidden Cost of Communication Fatigue

People are drained, not by the work itself, but by the constant effort of translating their experience.

Explaining.
Re-explaining.
Choosing the right words.
Managing tone.
Masking reactions.
Anticipating misunderstandings.
Reading between the lines.
Interpreting intentions and unspoken rules.

Even well-intentioned workplaces can be cognitively expensive.

This relational load is one of the most underestimated contributors to ADHD and AuDHD burnout.

4. Transitions are real work

Another quiet but consistent theme is transitions.

Meeting to meeting.
Work to home.
Task to task.
Masking to unmasking.
One environment to another.

Transitions require processing time, emotional regulation, and nervous system adjustment. When rushed or ignored, stress accumulates — even if the workload itself looks reasonable on paper.

Designing for transitions is one of the most powerful (and overlooked) supports.

5. Burnout isn’t dramatic — it’s quiet

Burnout doesn’t always look like collapse.

More often, it looks like:

• withdrawal
• numbness
• over-functioning
• “I’m fine” with no joy underneath
• doing everything… without feeling connected to it
• pushing through.

This kind of burnout is easy to miss, especially in high-functioning, capable people.

ADHD and AuDHD Awareness Is About Fit, Not Fixing

What this year has reinforced for me is this:

ADHD and AuDHD awareness isn’t about productivity tips.

It’s about designing lives, workplaces, and expectations that fit the nervous system.

Less forcing.
More empathy — for yourself and others.
More permission to do things differently.
And time for rest, recovery and restoration.

As I close out the year, I’m holding these reminders for myself too.

Growth doesn’t have to hurt.

Support and reasonable adjustment shouldn’t have to be a fight.

And intentionally doing less can sometimes be the most simple and effective change of all.

— Janine

P.S.

In my coaching work with ADHD and AuDHD adults across Australia, these patterns show up regardless of role, industry, or level of success.

If these reflections resonate, it may be because you’re navigating similar patterns — burnout that doesn’t look dramatic, expectations that don’t quite fit, or a sense that “doing more” isn’t the answer.

Coaching isn’t about fixing you. It’s about understanding how you work — and building support, systems, and boundaries that honour that.

If you’re curious about working together, you can learn more or book a free discovery call with me here.

We start where you are.

The post What ADHD Coaching Has Taught Me This Year (That You Won’t Find in Productivity Tips) appeared first on Janine Defontaine.

As the year winds down, I always feel a mix of emotions — gratitude, joy, tenderness… and if I’m honest, tiredness.

Coaching is one of the greatest joys in my life. Every session lifts me in a way that’s hard to put into words. Being invited into people’s stories — their growth, their struggles, their recalibration — is a genuine privilege I don’t take that lightly.

This year, I’m ending it tired. Properly tired.

It’s been a year of holding space, expanding my practice, navigating life, family and health challenges, pivoting, learning, and growing.

So as we move into the end of the year, I wanted to share something other than motivational goal-setting or “New Year, New You” energy.

Instead, this is an invitation to slow down and gently reflect on the end of year.

When Christmas Feels Complicated

For many Neurodivergent people, the Christmas period can be a bit — or a lot — overwhelming.

It can be emotionally heavy, socially draining, sensory overloading, and deeply complex due to family dynamics, grief, or expectations.

If that’s you, I want you to know this:

• You’re allowed boundaries.
• You’re allowed to say no.
• You’re allowed to step away, opt out, or keep things small.

“Good enough” really is good enough.

Gentle Supports for the Christmas Period

Here are a few gentle supports that an help you to get through the Christmas period:

• Choose one non-negotiable that supports your nervous system: a daily walk, a time limit on a social gathering, choosing to skip the booze this year, a consistent bed-time. Choose something that works for your nervous system.
• Build in transtions between events and recovery time after social events. Extend it longer than you usually do.
• Create micro-moments of grounding: a walk, fresh air, bare feet on the earth, a quiet pause in the bathroom, noise-cancelling headphones, a hug with your pet.
• Find moments of joy in your way, not the way you or others think you should.

You Don’t Need to Reinvent Yourself for the New Year

As we wrap up the year, and since I love a good reflection, here’s a few gentle reflections to consider over the coming weeks:

• What do I genuinely have capacity for right now?
• Where can I give myself permission to do less, say no, or rest?
• Where did I surprise myself this year?
• What might support future-me, even in a tiny way?
• What can I gently leave behind this year, and what do I want to carry forward?

There are no right answers, and these aren’t productivity hacks — they’re questions to help you tune in and nurture your nervous system.

And in case you need a permission:

You don’t need a brand-new planner.

You don’t need to overhaul your life.

And you don’t need to emerge from January a “better version” of yourself.

You’re allowed to arrive at the end of the year exactly as you are.

Moving gently into the new year

January doesn’t need to be a sprint. It can be a soft landing.

If planning feels supportive, great. If rest is what’s needed first, that’s valid too.

Me, well, I’m practising what I preach.

I’ll be taking a short break over the holiday period to rest, reset, and recalibrate — following Freya’s (my assistant and rescue Doberman) lead with more naps and a few treats, fewer expectations, and plenty of pauses.

Wherever this season finds you, I hope you can meet yourself with kindness.

You’ve done enough.

You are enough.

Rest is not a reward — it’s a requirement.

— Janine

Coaching to support you in the New Year

If you’re reading this and feeling tired, stretched, burnt out, are crawling to the finish line, or are quietly questioning how to move into the new year, you don’t have to do that alone.

In my work as an ADHD and AuDHD coach in Australia, I see this pattern every year.

Coaching can be a space to slow things down, make sense of what’s been heavy, get clearer on your overall values, needs and priorities in this season of your life, and design the next season in a way that actually fits you.

If and when it feels right, you’re welcome to book a coaching discovery call with me here.

No urgency. No pressure. Just support, when you need it.

Frequently Asked Questions

The post A Gentle End-of-Year Reflection: Permission to Do Less appeared first on Janine Defontaine.

Some stories take years to make sense — mine started to fall into place at 45.

For most of my life, I thought I was just a bit of an anxious mess. A little (or a lot) sensitive. Someone who never quite fit in but kept trying anyway. And lost.

Wanting to do all the things — but ending up overwhelmed, exhausted, and wondering why everything felt hard. How did others manage to function and look so put-together?

I was always running on empty (or fumes, really…). And I had so many feelings all the time.

When I was diagnosed with ADHD and autism (AuDHD) at 45, it was like someone had lifted back a curtain.

It turns out, I wasn’t broken. My brain (and body, to be honest) just worked differently — beautifully, chaotically, sometimes brilliantly, mostly exhaustingly, and sometimes just bafflingly!

Behind the Curtain

From the outside, I looked fairly successful. But behind the curtain, I was working twice as hard to maintain that illusion.

Every day was a game of mental logistics — keeping track of my keys, planning driving routes with built-in buffer time, not losing my laptop, managing the overwhelm that came with something as simple as running errands… and remembering to eat.

It wasn’t that I lacked discipline. I was managing executive dysfunction, anxiety, sensory overload, and trauma — all without knowing their names.

I was also heavily masking — after years of experience, conditioning, and messaging that told me to hide the real me.

I didn’t realise how much energy that took until I started to unmask… and finally felt how deeply exhausting it had been.

Before I Knew

Looking back, the signs were there; they were just hidden really well.

The endless lists. The constant mental noise.

The way I could be laser-focused on one thing for hours, but unable to start a “simple” task.

How I could lead complex multi-million dollar projects with confidence — but melt down from a sudden change in plans or too many competing priorities.

How much time, energy and effort I put into just getting somewhere while feeling riddled with anxiety – even if I knew the person I was meeting or had been there before.

At the time, I chalked it up to stress, sensitivity, anxiety, or not being able to handle stress. I thought if I worked harder, organised better, took antidepressants, or learned the next life hack, I could fix myself.

Spoiler: you can’t out-plan your neurology.

Diagnosis & Relief

For years, I believed that:

• “Too sensitive” was a flaw, not an insight.
• Productivity meant working at 200% all of the time.
• Rest was something you earned after you’d finished everything (which, let’s be honest, never happened).
• Taking a break = falling in a heap and getting sick.
• I wasn’t good enough, not interesting enough, not smart enough. Just not ‘enough’.

Getting my ADHD and autism diagnoses at 45 was equal parts grief and relief.

Grief for the years I’d spent feeling broken, for all the times I pushed past exhaustion, for the masking and fawning I didn’t even know I was doing.

And relief — because finally, things made more sense.

It was the first time I could look back on my life with compassion instead of criticism.

The Sensory Story

One of the biggest light-bulb moments was realising how deeply sensory experiences affect me.

The panic I felt in crowded shopping centres.

The way fluorescent lights, office chatter, and background radios made me feel like I was vibrating from the inside out.

The relief of soft fabrics, flowy pants, fluffy blankets, and buying the same top in five colours because comfort matters.

These weren’t quirks — they were my body’s way of saying, “This comforts and feels safe to me.”

Understanding my sensory needs has been one of the most life-changing parts of unmasking and finding peace.

Here are a few things I wish I’d known sooner

Productivity doesn’t have to hurt. It’s about learning when you work best, how your energy ebbs and flows, and finding something sustainable — with the occasional 200% hyperfocus burst thrown in.

Rest, structure, silence, and downtime aren’t indulgent — they’re essential.

And equally, there’s nothing wrong with craving diversity, spontaneity, loud music, and freedom.

Just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean it’s good for you.

The right people won’t think you’re “too much.” They’ll get you.

My brain works differently — and that doing things differently is where the magic is. Systems, good boundaries and the right degree of structure can support freedom — not stifle it.

Sensory experiences are real and powerful. The panic in a noisy supermarket. The overwhelm of fluoros, chatter, and radios in open offices. The comfort in soft textures, flowy pants, fluffy pillows, and buying the same top in five colours. These aren’t quirks — they’re needs.

Working With (Not Against) Your Brain

These days, I help other late-diagnosed ADHD and AuDHD adults do the same — learning how to build lives and work patterns that honour their brains, rather than fighting against them.

There’s a lot of compassion, curiosity, and laughter involved — sometimes a few tears — and always the occasional Freya-approved nose bump .

If you’re somewhere on that path — discovering, processing, learning to unmask safely, or just trying to make sense of it all — you’re not alone.

I see you.

If you’d like to explore what working with your brain might look like, you can book a free exploratory chat here or learn more about ADHD & AuDHD coaching here.

The post Some Stories Take Years to Make Sense appeared first on Janine Defontaine.

I turned 48 this year.

For years, I wrote birthday blog posts — little reflections on what I’d learned so far. But somewhere along the way, life got busy (and heavy), and I stopped. The last few years brought a lot of change — both beautiful and challenging — and I think I lost touch with that quieter reflective part of myself for a while.

This year, though, I felt the pull to write again.

Finding Myself Again

I’ll be honest — this year I’ve wrestled with ageing.

After years of stress (a good decade’s worth!), I’ve started to notice the changes in the mirror — lines around my eyes, muscle loss, and the weight of it all showing up in my face.

But those same lines tell another story: one of laughter, connection, and joy.

They’re proof of a life lived — not wasted.

I like the woman looking back at me now.

I wish younger me had the confidence, understanding, and self-worth I carry today. But I also look at her with kindness and give her a hug across time.

Rebuilding Strength — Body and Mind

Over the past year, I’ve taken up reformer Pilates and strength training.

My clothes fit differently now, but my body feels stronger and more capable. It’s both uncomfortable and empowering — a reminder that strength can always be rebuilt, even after it feels lost.

My work has grown, too.

Both sides of my business — ADHD and AuDHD coaching, and marketing — have flourished. I’m working with people and organisations that truly align with my values, and that feels deeply rewarding.

Living More Authentically

Unmasking as an AuDHD woman has been a huge part of my journey.

It’s come with grief — for the girl I hid away and for the exhaustion that came with masking. However, there has also been joy and relief in dropping the mask, in safe spaces, and learning to live more authentically.

I’m still learning what that looks like.

Some days it’s messy. Other days, it’s pure freedom.

Choosing Joy (and Presence)

Despite the challenges, I’m still choosing joy — in small, daily ways.

Walks with my Doberman, Freya. Laughter with my hubby. Conversations with clients, who remind me why I do what I do. The quiet strength that comes from knowing I’m surrounded by good people.

At 48, here’s what I know for sure:

Strength can be rebuilt, even after burnout.
Joy is found in the little things if you look for it.
Authenticity is worth the discomfort it takes to get there.
Support makes everything easier — you don’t have to do it all alone.

I don’t know what the next decade holds, but I’m entering it stronger, wiser, and more myself than ever.

Here’s to living, laughing, and thriving — one season at a time.

Are you on your own journey of rediscovery?

If you’re on your own journey of rediscovery — learning to rebuild, unmask, or simply find your rhythm again — you don’t have to do it alone.

Through ADHD and AuDHD coaching and mentoring, I support late-diagnosed and neurodivergent individuals to find clarity, confidence, and calm while building a life that works for their unique brain.

Learn more about coaching and mentoring →

The post Reflections on Turning 48: Strength, Joy & Living More Authentically appeared first on Janine Defontaine.

I took last week off. Properly off.

No emails, no notifications, no endless scroll. Just me, my husband, and Freya the Doberman in Bridgetown — surrounded by trees, misty mornings, and the kind of quiet that gently untangles your brain.

My goal was simple: rest, reset, recharge.

I managed the first two — recharging is ongoing.

The Art of Taking a Real Break

It’s funny how slowing down feels harder than speeding up.

The first few days away, my brain still buzzed with to-do lists, emails, and half-finished projects. But nature has a way of softening the noise.

Long walks under towering trees, quiet afternoons reading, and Freya’s uncontainable joy at being off-lead and in a 100% dog-friendly home away from home reminded me that stillness isn’t laziness — it’s recovery.

When you finally pause, you notice how much tension you’ve been holding. It sits in your shoulders, your sleep, your thoughts. Sometimes, it takes a week in the forest to realise how overdue rest really was.

Rediscovering Joy in the Everyday

As the days went on, I started to notice little things again — the sound of kookaburras, cockatoos and magpies, sunlight through the leaves, the simple pleasure of cooking dinner without rushing.

Being away reminded me that joy doesn’t have to be big or loud. It can be as small as Freya’s muddy paws after a walk, or the calm that comes from breathing air that smells like rain and eucalyptus.

Now that I’m home, I’ve started my mornings with a short stretch and a few minutes of journaling — not as a productivity tool, but as a grounding one.

I work from home, and it’s easy to get stuck in my head or slip back into 12-hour days. Journaling helps me pause, set intentions, and check in with myself before the day runs away.

And because ADHD brains love novelty, I’ve mixed it up a bit — using prompts and even ChatGPT as an accountability buddy to keep things interesting. (So far, it’s working!)

The Reality of Coming Back

Re-entry is always strange, isn’t it? You return home a little clearer, but the world hasn’t slowed down with you.

I’ve realised that recharging isn’t something you tick off a list — it’s something you build into life. It’s in the morning rituals, the breaks between meetings, the slow walks after work.

So, I’m trying to bring a little of Bridgetown home with me — more fresh air, more pauses, more presence.

Rest as Resistance

This year has been heavy for so many of us. The noise, the constant change, the world feeling too much — it all adds up. Taking a break from the digital noise and the daily grind isn’t indulgent; it’s essential.

Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is rest.

Step back.

Let yourself breathe.

Because when you return, you come back with more clarity, more compassion, and a little more space to be yourself.

So here’s your reminder — it’s okay to step away.

The world will wait.

The post Recharging, Rediscovery, and Returning: Lessons from a Week Among the Trees appeared first on Janine Defontaine.

At the age of 45, I found myself grappling with a life-changing diagnosis: ADHD.

It was a revelation that came at a time when I was struggling to do the things I usually did.

I’d been questioning my sanity, if I was ill, and wondering if I was developing dementia.

I had left my job earlier that year and was working full-time in my business. I had worked so hard to change my life and was living the life I wanted, so why was everything falling apart?

The Journey to Discovery

The path to my diagnosis was not straightforward.

It began with sharing my struggles with close friends and noticing a pattern in the TikTok videos I was being shown about ADHD in women.

After some hyperfocus research and self-enquiry, I decided to get an ADHD assessment. The result? I was not only diagnosed with ADHD, but I was also in severe ADHD burnout and possibly Autistic.

Reflecting on the Past

Looking back, I can see how ADHD and a whole lot of sensory processing challenges have been a constant presence in my life.

The feeling of not fitting in, being called weird, sensitive, quirky, different, or that I laugh too loudly.

Struggling through school and university.

Misinterpreting my hyperactive racing mind and constant feelings of overwhelm as anxiety.

Constantly losing things, bumping into things, and never remembering people’s names.

The urge to do many things, different things, for change – but also craving security, safety, and stability.

And working so hard. I was known as ‘the girl who gets shit done’… which I thrived on for a time but was always followed by burnout.

The Impact of Living Undiagnosed & the Power of Understanding

Living life undiagnosed, masking to fit into the neurotypical world, working so hard, and unable to escape the burnout cycle, with the breaks between burnout getting shorter each time

I was left feeling like a shell of a human being.

I was exhausted.

Once I was diagnosed, I felt a lot of grief, anger, disappointment, and sadness for all the years I believed something was wrong with me.

I had spent years trying to ‘fix’ myself through counselling, psychologists, naturopaths, doctors, tests from specialists, and self-help books and classes, believing I couldn’t handle life like a ‘normal’ person.

Why had no one picked up on this?

On the other hand, my ADHD diagnosis was validating. It has led me to understand the what, why, and how I do what I do. By viewing life through a different lens, I’m exploring my neurodivergent self and allowing myself to do things differently.

It has opened a new world of possibilities and allowed me to do things in a way that works for me. I’m discovering who I am. I love who I am. I feel happier. And I feel so much more whole.

The Road Ahead

There is so much more to my story.

Navigating the medical and mental health systems, waiting lists, and other non-helpful things has been cumbersome and frustrating.

Successfully trialling ADHD medication and having to deal with medication shortages was confronting and triggered more trauma.

I have shared my news with friends, family members, colleagues, and the world, and the reactions have been mostly positive, some invalidating or plain gaslighting, and a few disappointing.

Collecting other diagnoses along the way in the form of Complex PTSD, Raynaud syndrome, and the like. Today I call them the other pieces to my puzzle.

But building my support team of a great psychologist, psychiatrist, coach, mentor, GP, chiropractor, and more, along with the support I’ve received from friends, family, and my networks, has been a blessing.

And honestly, that’s why I am here doing what I do.

Let’s Connect

I hope hearing part of my story about my late diagnosis of ADHD will inspire you to be gentle with yourself and each other and to accept and celebrate your differences.

If you’re looking for an ADHD coach who understands your struggles firsthand, I’d love to connect.

My lived experience with ADHD, alongside my learning, professional experience and qualifications, has equipped me with a unique perspective and tools to help others navigate their own journeys.

Let’s explore the possibilities together and celebrate our neurodivergent selves.

Reach out to me, and let’s start this empowering journey together.

Janine

The post Unmasking Myself: My Journey to an ADHD Diagnosis at 45 appeared first on Janine Defontaine.