I wanted to write a post days ago. I planned it in my head, thought through what I’d say, even got a little excited about sharing it. And yet, the second I told myself “Okay, sit down and write it,” my brain slammed the brakes.

That’s PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance) at work. From the outside, it might look like procrastination or stubbornness. From the inside, it feels like a full-body resistance to any demand — even ones I set for myself.

Here’s how it tends to show up in my day:

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Morning: Breakfast (or Not)

I wake up knowing I should make breakfast. But the word should is dangerous territory. Suddenly, I’m not deciding to eat — I’m being told to eat (by myself, no less). My body resists. Instead, I scroll on my phone, wander around instead of making something to eat. Ten minutes later I’m hungrier and more frustrated and now I will be late for work.

Late Morning: The Blog Post That Isn’t

“Today’s the day I’ll write that blog post.”

Except… nope. My brain says, “I need some coffee first?” Then, “What if I check emails to warm up?” Then, “I’ll just do some research on PDA for inspiration.” Before I know it, I’ve deep-dived into articles, but the blog post draft is still a blinking cursor on a blank page.

This is where my ADHD joins the party. ADHD makes starting tasks hard, especially ones that feel big or important. Add PDA, and now the idea of “I must do this” becomes a locked door. Even if I want to do it, the demand shuts me down.

Afternoon: Errands, Maybe

Later, I think, “I need to get this done, or that other thing.”, neither of which are important. Cue resistance. My brain offers a dozen alternatives: pay the bills, do it tomorrow, but the moment it becomes a demand, my nervous system labels it as pressure.

Evening: The Chores Game

I look around my house. Dishes need washing, laundry needs folding. Each one becomes a battle of wills — me versus my nervous system. Sometimes I trick myself by turning chores into “choices”: “I’ll unload the dishwasher, put the dirty dishes in later.” That’s easier than telling myself “You must do the dishes.”

More often, though, I’ll find myself avoiding until the last possible moment. The pile of laundry becomes background noise while I hyperfocus on something completely different — like reorganizing a bookshelf.

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What Helps (When It Helps)

• Framing things as choices, not demands. I do better with “I can write a paragraph if I want” than “I must finish this blog post.”
• Externalizing pressure. Sometimes it helps when my wife phrases things as an invitation: “If you unload the dishwasher, I will load it.” feels lighter than “Do the dishes.”
• Small starts. Instead of “write a post,” I tell myself, “open the document and type one sentence.” That often sneaks me past the resistance.
• Self-compassion. PDA makes me feel “difficult” sometimes, but I remind myself this isn’t about laziness. It’s my nervous system trying to protect me from feeling trapped.

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Why I’m Sharing This

It took me days to pick a topic.  I selected one, it took me another day to start writing. I saved that one for another day and this post came out quickly — which is funny and frustrating all at once, because the post is literally about avoiding writing a post. That’s how PDA weaves itself into daily life: breakfast, chores, errands, creative work.

I used to think this pattern meant I was broken or incapable. Now I know it’s part of being autistic and ADHD, and that PDA is a real thing many people experience. Naming it helps me find strategies, and sharing it feels like a step toward making it less hidden.

If you see yourself in this — struggling with tasks you want to do, avoiding even when you’re motivated — you’re not alone. PDA is real, and with understanding (and a lot of reframing), we can work with our brains instead of against them.