There is a particular kind of energy that arrives when we are supposed to be doing something else.
The email that needs a reply.
The spreadsheet that has sat untouched for weeks.
The sensible task that would move things forward in a tidy, linear way.
Instead, we find ourselves somewhere entirely different.
When procrastination becomes a side-quest
Some of us have “hypercurious” brains, and ways of being that do not like to be told what to do – even by ourselves. We know this terrain well. We may set out with every intention of Doing The Thing. And then somehow, without ever having made a conscious decision, we are deep in another realm of activity altogether.
This “behaviour” has acquired many names.
Procrastination. Avoidance. Executive dysfunction. Self-sabotage.
Some can bring a welcome sense of solidarity with others. If you’re exploring this in your own life, you can read more about working with a therapist who understands neurodivergence.
What if, just for a moment, we loosen our grip on the idea that something has gone wrong?
For many neurodivergent adults, procrastination is often framed as failure or lack of discipline. But sometimes what looks like procrastination is actually something else entirely.
When the spare room becomes a portal
Recently, instead of tackling a fairly straightforward (if emotionally charged) administrative task, I found myself redecorating the spare bedroom.
It had looked awful for years. A holding space. An I-ran-out-of-money-before-getting-tround-to-this room. One of those places that quietly absorbs the energy of postponement.
Suddenly, it became urgent.
I dug out my old paint stash. I planned wardrobe shelving. I decanted what was in the cupboards into other parts of the house. Although every room was littered with displaced belongings, I felt a surprising clarity about my decisions. What began as “I should really just smarten this up” became a full reimagining. And then, because one quest is rarely enough, I decided I would fund the whole thing purely from what I could sell on Vinted and eBay.
This, of course, became its own side-side-quest.
Photographing items. Writing descriptions. Finding a Custom GPT to write my Vinted posts. Perfecting said posts. Watching small sums accumulate and transform into Polyfilla, paint, new shelving.
Was this procrastination?
Yes. Undoubtedly.
Was it also creative, energising and oddly strategic?
Also yes.
The room is now gorgeous. More importantly, it feels alive, and cared for. And I would never have achieved it if I had obediently stuck to my to-do list.
Ornate detours and hypercurious minds
My language-loving parts love this idea of an “ornate side-quest”. My super-visual parts are picturing a Baroque mirror, studded with gold-leafed pomegranates and fig leaves.
What begins as “I’ll just frame these prints” becomes remounting every picture, painting the picture frames in a jazzy pattern. Which then becomes re-hanging an entire wall of pictures.
Or a Sunday morning where I “should” do something dull becomes a three-dish batch-cooking marathon. Veg roasting. Containers lined up. Future meals taken care of.
To an external eye, this may look scatty or unfocused.
From the inside, it can feel like being carried by a current.
For many neurodivergent adults, especially during perimenopause when energy, hormones and attention are shifting in unfamiliar ways, linear productivity can feel harder to access. The old structures do not hold as reliably. Motivation does not arrive on command.
But aliveness often still does.
It just arrives sideways.
The story we have been told about “staying on task”
Many of us in the West live within a culture that worships forward motion.
Finish what you start.
Stay on track.
Be consistent.
Do not be distracted.
Productivity, productivity, productivity.
There is little room in that story for cyclical energy, for defiance of authority (both external and internal), for the curious and often fun experience of following a thread simply because it glows.
Especially for those of us whose nervous systems bristle at being managed.
When we do not comply with our own plans, let alone others’, it can feel like failure. A moral flaw. A lack of discipline.
But what if some of our side-questing is not dysfunction, but divergence?
Not all of it. Sometimes we are stuck. Sometimes we are avoiding something that genuinely needs attention. I don’t want to romanticise this.
And.
Sometimes the detour is the way through.
The spare room gets done.
The freezer fills with food.
The energy of the house shifts.
Our confidence shifts with it.
Doors open to creativity and playfulness.
We learn new skills. We make unexpected connections. We generate movement in places that had felt stale.
Not in a capitalist, self-extracting, optimise-every-minute sense.
In a human, life-living sense.
Getting ourselves unstuck by going elsewhere
I have come to recognise that there is something deeply regulating about a side-quest that chooses me.
It offers momentum without coercion.
Structure without shame.
Completion without the heaviness of obligation.
Often, once we have followed the detour far enough, we find we can return to The Thing [that we were avoiding in the first place] with more steadiness. The nervous system has softened. The resistance has eased. We’ve created something along the way.
Or we realise The Thing was not actually the thing at all.
For those of us navigating perimenopause and/or later-realised neurodivergence, this can feel especially poignant. Parts of us that once complied no longer wish to. Energy is more precious. Tolerance for self-bullying is lower.
We may be less willing to force ourselves.
And more willing, sometimes, to trust the wild and distracting currents of our own attention.
A quiet celebration
This is not a manifesto against responsibility.
It is an invitation to hold our side-quests with a little more curiosity and a little less contempt.
To notice when they are helping.
To notice when they are avoidance.
To gently discern the difference over time.
And to remember that creativity does not always move in straight lines.
Some of us think in spirals.
Some of us build in layers.
Some of us need to walk into another room entirely before we can return.
There is joy in that.
There is community in that too. A quiet recognition among hypercurious, strong-willed, easily-bored, deeply-creative adults who do not like to be told what to do, even by ourselves.
We are not broken for this.
Sometimes, we are simply on a side-quest.
And sometimes, that is exactly where we need to be.
FAQs
1. Is procrastination common for neurodivergent people?
Many neurodivergent adults experience differences in executive functioning and attention. What looks like procrastination from the outside may sometimes be the brain seeking stimulation, safety, or clarity before engaging with a task.
2. Can procrastination sometimes be creative?
Absolutely. While avoidance can create problems, many people find that following a different thread of interest can generate energy, creativity, and movement that helps them return to the original task later.
3. Why can perimenopause affect focus and productivity?
Hormonal shifts during perimenopause can affect attention, memory, motivation and emotional regulation. These changes can make previously reliable strategies feel less effective.
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