ADHD, Bipolar, and the Reality of a Financial Mess

I wish I could say my financial struggles are just “a bit of overspending” or “a late bill here and there.” But the truth is harsher: I am in a financial mess. Not just messy—an all out mess. Debts piling up, cash always short, living from paycheck to paycheck, with no breathing room for the emergencies that never seem to stop coming.

People see the surface: a responsible breadwinner, a hardworking professional, someone who gets things done. What they don’t see is the undercurrent, the constant chaos of managing money with ADHD and bipolar disorder, layered with the weight of being the adult who has to hold everything together.

When Life and ADHD Collide

ADHD and money don’t get along. Bills slip through the cracks not because I don’t care, but because there's always so much noise in my head. Food delivery turns into a lifeline when I’m too exhausted to cook, even though I know it drains the budget. Impulse buys—sometimes small, sometimes not—become dopamine bandages over stress and low moods.

But in my life, it’s not just ADHD. It’s also being the breadwinner for my family. It’s covering medical bills when my dad is hospitalized. It’s rescuing cats and paying for vet care because if I don’t, no one else will. It’s those endless little “unexpected” expenses that come in waves until they no longer feel unexpected at all.

The Debt Spiral

Every payday feels like air after drowning. But the relief doesn’t last long. Almost the entire salary vanishes instantly:

• Credit card payments from groceries, medical expenses, vet bills, utilities.

• LazPayLater from house items, pet supplies, even books I promised myself I needed.

• Household repairs and catch-up maintenance and replacements for basic appliances and furniture stacked one after another. (Because now we are feeling the cost of decades of neglect of a narcissist parent.)

What’s left is just enough to crawl to the next payday—unless another emergency hits. And there’s always another emergency.

This isn’t living. It’s surviving. And surviving while in debt is like running a marathon with weights strapped to your ankles.

The Emotional Cost

The worst part isn’t just the money. It’s the shame. The feeling of being “bad with money,” of always failing, of being trapped in a cycle you should have outgrown by now. The self-criticism that says: You’re irresponsible. You should know better. Why can’t you get your act together?

And the most painful: I have nothing to show for all my years of hard work and supposed career success. I tried. I had a condo unit. I had a car. I was a millionaire for a moment. I lost them all.

There is shame, self-hate, self-criticism, regret, anger, disappointment, frustration, and oh, the exhaustion that only gets bigger and deeper every single day.

Still in the Thick of It

I wish I could tell you I’ve found something that works. That after all the trial and error, one system finally stuck. But the truth is harsher: nothing has. I’ve tried apps, envelopes, calendars, reminders, even strict rules. And still, the money slips through, the debts pile higher, and I’m left gasping for air.

Right now, I am not managing—I am drowning. Every payday, the money evaporates into debts, bills, and obligations faster than I can catch my breath. Emergencies hit one after another, and I’m too deep in the cycle to climb out.

There are no clever hacks here. No neat bullet points to end with. Just the raw fact of being stuck, tired, and overwhelmed.

A Flicker of Hope

And yet, I keep moving. Maybe out of stubbornness. Maybe out of love for the people and the cats who depend on me. Maybe because some part of me still believes that things can change.

I don’t know if the answer will come from a system I haven’t tried yet, a shift in circumstance, or the kindness of someone who offers help when I least expect it. Maybe it will take a miracle. Maybe it will take many.

But for now, even in the drowning, I’m holding on to this small, fragile truth: sometimes, help or inspiration arrives in forms we can’t yet imagine. And until it does, survival itself is a kind of hope.