Ok, you caught me. I was doing meal planning—or at least attempting it, which, let’s be honest, is less of a linear task and more of a wobbly expedition fueled by delusions of organization. Why do I keep doing this? You’d think after the twentieth attempt at crafting the perfect weekly meal plan, I’d accept the truth: my AuDHD brain is like a butterfly trapped in a hurricane when it comes to anything resembling structure. It’s not entirely my fault, though. The promise of being *that person*—you know, the one who has a color-coded calendar filled with balanced meals—still holds a magnetic allure. The reality? Let’s just say it’s less neat lines and more scribbles and chaos.

I start with good intentions. Armed with a notebook, some mismatched pens I found rolling around the bottom of my bag, and a vague sense of hope, I sit down to make a list of meal ideas. It always starts off strong. Breakfast? Easy. Eggs, toast, oatmeal—options abound! Lunch? Maybe a salad, something protein-packed. And dinner? Oh, the possibilities seem endless in the first five minutes. But then the cracks begin to show. You know what happens next: I get sidetracked googling recipes. One minute I’m reading about quinoa bowls and the next, I’m knee-deep in articles debating whether avocados are overrated. Spoiler: they’re not, but they cost like they’re made of gold.

Then comes the fun part—actually figuring out what I can afford. This is where reality likes to chuck a wrench at my head. I open my banking app to take a peek at my funds, only to be greeted by the dreaded “down for maintenance” message. Again. Honestly, is it just me, or does this app always crash at the exact moment I need it most? Do banks have a sixth sense for detecting when I’m teetering on the edge of financial panic? I swear, my relationship with this app is starting to resemble some kind of tragic romance. I want to love it, I need it, but it keeps letting me down. Cue the dramatic sighs and side-eye glances at my phone.

But I digress. With no easy way to confirm my account balance, I resort to a dangerous method: blind confidence. I tell myself, “Surely, there’s enough for groceries. Right? RIGHT?” This, friends, is where the meal planning process takes a sharp detour into fantasyland. I imagine myself strolling through the store, filling my cart with fresh produce, lean meats, and exotic spices. What actually happens is I grab cheap pasta, canned goods, and whatever’s on sale. Did I mention the impulse buys? Because somehow a bag of chips and a block of cheese always sneak into my cart. They wink at me as if to say, “We’re essential!” Spoiler again: they’re not.

Now comes the part where I try to reconcile my lofty aspirations with reality. I sit down with my haul and attempt to match what I bought to my meal plan. This is a hilariously futile exercise because the ingredients never line up. Did I plan for stir-fry but forget the soy sauce? Of course I did. Did I dream up tacos but neglect the tortillas? Absolutely. My brain doesn’t do linear thinking; it does abstract chaos, and the results speak for themselves. At this point, I start cross-referencing my recipes, wondering if I can Frankenstein something edible from what’s available. The answer is usually yes, but the process feels like solving an escape room puzzle.

Once I’ve cobbled together a somewhat feasible plan, the second phase of chaos begins: actually sticking to it. This is where AuDHD enters the chat with a big, mischievous grin. First, I have to remember what I planned to make. Easier said than done. I write it down, of course, but then forget where I put the list. Did I leave it on the fridge? The counter? In my purse? Who knows? The list could be on an intergalactic journey for all I know. Sometimes I find it folded neatly inside a random book. Other times, it’s gone forever, and I resign myself to winging it.

Even if I do remember the plan, there’s an entirely separate challenge: actually cooking. Cooking, for me, is like running a marathon with hurdles and unexpected detours. I start chopping onions and suddenly remember I need to defrost the chicken. Halfway through defrosting, I realize I left water boiling on the stove. By the time the meal is finished, my kitchen looks like a small tornado touched down. And let’s not forget the pièce de résistance—eating the food. Eating sounds simple enough, but oh no, my brain likes to turn it into a game of distraction. I’ll sit down with my lovingly prepared meal only to get sidetracked by my phone, a random thought, or the urge to reorganize my closet. Hours later, I’ll find my plate half-eaten, as cold as my enthusiasm for meal planning. Oh and there is the remembering to eat and not go I will get to it then get distracted. It happens a lot. Trust me.

So, here I am, stuck in this cycle of meal planning madness, wondering if there’s a way out. I’ll admit, part of me sees the absurdity of it all. Maybe I don’t need a perfect plan. Maybe I just need a loose framework, some forgiving recipes, and the willingness to laugh when things inevitably go sideways. AuDHD may be the chaotic wildcard in this saga, but it’s also a reminder not to take these little struggles too seriously. Who cares if dinner is a cheese instead of the gourmet pasta dish I envisioned? As long as I’m fed and vaguely amused by my own antics, I’ll call it a win.

Next week, though, I’m totally becoming a meal-planning guru. I can feel it in my bones. Or maybe that’s just hunger talking. Either way, stay tuned for the next thrilling installment of me versus my kitchen. Place your bets now: organization or chaos? Spoiler one last time—it’s chaos. Always chaos. Now that I am done being a bit silly I am going to see if that bank account app is working this time cause it is meal planning day. Oh yea, there is also the texture to take into consideration because sure I have my textures I hate no matter what, there are days when something just is weird to my mind no matter how often I have had it and there is no way I am eating it. By the time I figure it out though I am usually a big green for awhile after.