Janine Defontaine

I wrote a blog post about beating the "Sunday Scaries" years before my ADHD diagnosis.

Reading it back now, it screams undiagnosed ADHD. It's all: plan more, prep ahead, time-block your week on Sunday arvo, tick everything off on Monday.

So I've rewritten it — and my thinking has shifted a fair bit.

Here's the thing the old advice misses: for a lot of Neurodivergent brains, the Sunday dread isn't a problem you can plan your way out of. It's about what the week ahead is asking of you.

Anticipatory anxiety running the worst-case reel at 9pm (or 3am for the perimenopausal brain).

The executive-function weight of holding every deadline, appointment and "thing I said I'd do" all at once.

The gear change from weekend freedom back into a full pile of "have to."

The old fix — spend Sunday getting ahead — can quietly turn your one genuine day of rest into another list of demands. And for a nervous system that's already running hot, that's the opposite of what you need.

So the reframe I offer now isn't "optimise your Sunday."

It's "protect it."

And deliberately doing less.

If Sunday nights are consistently rough, that's worth getting curious about. It might be telling you something about your capacity that's worth listening to.

🔗 https://janinedefontaine.com/slow-sundays-a-gentler-take-on-the-sunday-scaries/

Last Friday I took the day off and went to the movies with my mum.

We saw Minions vs Monsters. We giggled. We cackled. We laughed a little too loudly (as we are known to do). And mum had planned a surprise: she was buying me minions. I insisted on seeing the movie first so I could choose my minion properly (this is called due diligence).

I walked out with Henry AND James. I'm late 40-something and I own plush minions now. Zero shame (I love those rambunctious little yellow guys!).

A few years ago I'd have talked myself out of the whole day. Too indulgent. Not productive. 'I have so much to do'.

These days I know better: fun is allowed to be small and silly and it counts.

After a run of hard months, that Friday mattered more than any productive one would have. It was also really nourishing (thanks, Mum!)

What's the smallest, silliest thing that's brought you joy lately?

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/

This week I had the privilege of delivering two Neurodiversity workshops for MIFWA.

Monday: Supporting Neurodivergent Staff — a 2-hour workshop for people leaders. Eight managers showing up genuinely curious, asking honest questions, and leaving with real things to take back to their teams, like ‘Checking in with people who go under the radar’ and ‘Being more curious and open to different brains’.

Thursday: Thriving at Work — Neurodivergent Style. A 3-hour session for peer workers and staff. Twelve people. Feedback like 'mask less' and the value in ‘real conversations’ and people sharing their lived experiences … that I'll be sitting with for a while.

Across both sessions, what stood out most wasn’t just the strategies or frameworks — it was the honesty and openness in the room.

We talked about things like:

• overwhelm and burnout
• masking and exhaustion
• unclear expectations and hidden labour
• capacity vs capability
• sustainable ways of working
• practical supports that actually help

But we also talked about strengths, self-understanding, flexibility, curiosity, and the importance of creating workplaces where people feel safe to work differently.

Personally, I left both workshops feeling incredibly grateful. AND I'm not wiped out, brain-fried. or non-verbal. I'm feeling tired but also pretty damn uplifted!

Working with MIFWA always feels like coming home — I’ve worked with them for a number of years across my career in varying capacities. And it really lifted my heart to see some familiar faces in the room :)

Thank you again to everyone who attended, contributed and supported so generously.

Two workshops. Twenty people. One very full heart 💝