Why ADHD Turns a Simple Comment Into a Mountain
I read every comment on Substack. I’m just scared to reply
If you’ve ever stared at a comment and wanted to reply but froze anyway, or drafted a reply only to delete it out of sheer existential dread, then this is yours too. And if it feels right, becoming a paid subscriber helps keep this space steady, free, and open for anyone still learning how to stay present. No pressure. No perfection. Just the quiet work of showing up, even when it’s hard.
Don’t get me wrong. I love the comments here. I really do.
When you take the time to respond to one of my posts, to share a story, to say “this hit me,” to challenge something, or just to say you were here, it means more than I could every say.
Every single comment makes me feel like this is real. Like I’m not writing into the void.
Like something I said found its way to you, and maybe even stayed with you.
But there’s something else, too.
Something I’ve been avoiding saying.
I’m afraid of the comments.
Not because they’re mean. Quite the opposite. Most of you are incredibly kind, thoughtful, generous.
It’s not about you.
It’s about what happens in me the second I see that little notification icon light up.
It’s a quiet spiral. A rush of second-guessing.
A fear that I won’t respond well enough. Or clearly enough. Or warmly enough.
What if I sound too intense? Or too distant?
What if I say the wrong thing and someone walks away thinking less of me?
That fear doesn’t come from logic. It doesn’t even come from your words.
It’s the kind of fear that lives deeper, the kind wired into my ADHD, into the part of my brain that over-processes every interaction and prepares for rejection even when none is coming.
This is one of the harder parts of being here on Substack. Because I love this place.
I love writing for it. I love reading on it. I love how thoughtful and human this community can be.
But every time I publish, there’s this other voice that kicks in, whispering that maybe I’m not capable of holding the space I’ve created.
And I want to say something to those of you who’ve ever left a comment and didn’t hear back.
I’m sorry.
Not because I didn’t care, but because I cared too much.
Because your words meant something and I froze. Not out of indifference, but out of fear.
I built this Substack to make peace with that fear.
To keep writing through it. To challenge the silence in myself.
And I really do want to get better at it.
There will be a day, and I believe this, when I’ll answer every comment here. Because you deserve that.
Not because it’s expected, but because this connection is real.
Because if you took the time to speak, you should be spoken to.
Until then, please know that if you ever wrote something kind, something vulnerable, something challenging, something real, I read it.
I felt it.
I still think about it, long after the tab is closed.
Even when I’m quiet. Even when I’m scared.
Maybe the real takeaway is that we don’t need to say everything perfectly, but just need to stay in the conversation.
So this is me, trying.
What’s stopping you from replying?
💚 If this made you laugh or remember that one time you drafted a reply and then ghosted it like it had feelings, feel free to share it with someone who also needs six hours to answer a two-sentence comment.
💚 And if you’ve got something to say whether it’s “I do this too” or “wow, get it together”, leave a comment. I promise I’ll read it, panic about it, overthink my reply, and possibly respond sometime in 2027.
I edit myself to vanilla - so much existential dread, living in all the nuance of systems and pattern thinking, the want to provide context .. all wrapped up in perfectionism (of wanting to give others the best version of me). So i write responses, edit and often delete! am working up to launching my own substack. so I’m very much appreciative of this post and all your observations. and here I am showing up messily! and still editing!!!
no expectations of a response to my message of course! 🙃
I think we all understand Josh, it's one of those quirks people recognise but maybe never put into words, then you feel like you need to explain it so nobody misunderstands you!