Why People with ADHD Lie, Avoid, and Procrastinate and How Compassion Changes Everything
- Brainz Magazine
- Nov 10
- 7 min read
Updated: Nov 11
Bari Fischer is the CEO and founder of Impulsively Aware. She is a leading ADHD & Executive Function Coach, renowned for transforming challenges into strengths through personalized strategies and support, and the creator of impactful, empowering coaching experiences.
Why do people with ADHD lie, avoid, or procrastinate, even about things they truly care about? These behaviors aren’t about laziness or lack of motivation, they’re emotional coping mechanisms driven by fear, overwhelm, and shame. ADHD & Executive Function Coach Bari Fischer explains why understanding the brain’s response to discomfort is the first step toward change, and how compassion transforms everything.
If you’ve ever stared at your to-do list and wondered why it feels so hard to just start, you’re not alone. For people with ADHD, it’s easy to feel trapped inside a cycle that makes no sense, even to us. We lie about things we didn’t do. We avoid what we care about most. We procrastinate until panic finally pushes us forward. Then we shame spiral and swear we’ll do better next time, until the next time looks exactly the same.
Here’s the truth, ADHD isn’t about laziness, apathy, or lack of discipline. It’s about how our brains manage emotion, attention, and energy. Every behavior, even the ones that look irrational, is actually our brain’s way of protecting us from discomfort, overwhelm, or perceived failure.
The problem is, ADHD is invisible in all the worst ways. You can’t see the racing thoughts, the emotional overload, or the exhaustion of trying to act “normal” every day. You only see the missed calls, the forgotten tasks, and the I’ll do it later. From the outside, it’s easy to assume those are choices, not symptoms.
But when we start to understand why we do what we do, everything changes. We stop seeing it as a character flaw and start seeing it as communication. That’s where compassion and change begin.
Why we lie
People with ADHD don’t usually lie to deceive. We lie to escape the sting of failure or shame. It’s not about dishonesty, it’s about avoiding that feeling of shame or disappointment.
When you’ve spent years being told you’re careless or lazy, admitting you’ve messed up again can feel unbearable. So, we blurt out “Yes, I did it!” before our brain catches up. We weren’t trying to trick anyone. We were trying to protect ourselves from disappointment, ours or someone else’s.
It backfires fast. The guilt and self-loathing hit hard, and suddenly we’re ashamed of both the mistake and the lie. But this isn’t about character. It’s about instinctively avoiding pain.
What helps
If you lie to avoid discomfort, practice pausing. Take a breath before you answer. That one beat lets your brain catch up before your mouth rushes to protect you.
If you love someone who lies, help them slow down without shame. When my son was younger, he’d lie about brushing his teeth. I started saying, “Don’t answer right away, think first.” That one-second pause rewired the moment. No yelling, no shame, just truth and trust.
That pause is powerful because it tells the ADHD brain, “You’re safe”. I’m not here to catch you in a lie, I’m here to help you get it right.
Why we avoid and procrastinate
Avoidance and procrastination are the dynamic duo of ADHD. They look like apathy but are powered by fear, shame, and a deep need to feel safe.
We avoid tasks not because we don’t care but because our brain screams danger at the first sign of discomfort, boredom, confusion, or the risk of failure. So, we scroll, snack, or suddenly clean the fridge. It’s not indifference, it’s your brain trying to stay safe.
Procrastination happens when we care too much. The task feels huge or emotionally loaded, our planning brain freezes, and our panic brain takes over. Then, when the deadline looms, dopamine finally kicks in and we can move, but at the cost of anxiety and exhaustion.
What helps
Drop the shame. Avoidance isn’t defiance, it’s fear in disguise. Instead of “Why can’t I just start?”, ask, “What feels hard about starting?” Naming it makes it smaller.
ADHD brains need momentum, not motivation. Write one line, open the file, or set a five-minute timer. Your job is to start starting.
And if you love someone who avoids or procrastinates, curiosity works better than pep talks. Try, “What part feels hard?” or “Want me to sit with you while you get going?” That gentle connection often gives us the activation we can’t find alone.
Why we seem lazy
What looks like laziness is usually burnout from fighting an invisible battle. Executive function, the brain’s management system, handles planning, prioritizing, and switching between tasks. When it’s out of sync, even small things feel impossible. We want to move, but can’t find the mental gear. Then shame pipes up and says, You’re lazy.
The irony is that we can hyperfocus like superheroes when something excites us, then completely stall on folding laundry. It’s not inconsistency, it’s dopamine deciding what’s worth the brain’s energy.
What helps
You’re not lazy, you’re tired. Ask, “What does my brain need to get started?” Maybe it’s music, movement, a body double, or permission to do the messy version first. ADHD brains don’t switch on with guilt, they switch on with interest and connection.
If you love someone who seems lazy, know that their effort might not look like yours. Instead of “Why can’t you just start?”, try, “What would make this easier?” That small shift can turn stuck into a start.
Why we mask
Masking is what happens when we hide our ADHD to seem “normal.” We smile through overwhelm, laugh off forgetfulness, and act fine while our brain is on fire.
It starts early. We learn that being impulsive or emotional gets labeled as “too much,” so we adapt. We rehearse conversations, overprepare, apologize for existing. On the outside, we look composed. Inside, we’re running on fumes.
What helps
Notice where and with whom you mask. Awareness alone is huge. You’re not faking, you’re surviving. But you deserve to breathe.
You don’t have to unmask everywhere. Start small, “I was distracted, can you repeat that?” or “My brain’s a little overloaded.” Each honest moment teaches your nervous system that it’s safe to be real.
And if you love someone who masks, remember that “I’m fine” often means they’re running on empty. Try saying, “You don’t have to hold it together with me.” Those words are oxygen.
Why ADHD isn’t visible
You can’t see the thought tornado in our heads or the energy it takes to start a “simple” task. You just see the missed text, the late arrival, the clutter. From the outside, it's easy to assume those are choices instead of symptoms. But what’s underneath is anxiety, overstimulation, and exhaustion.
ADHD hides our effort, the refocusing, the restarting, the self-monitoring. When no one sees that, it’s easy to believe maybe we are lazy or broken. That’s where shame digs in.
What helps
Give yourself credit for the invisible work, showing up, trying again, refocusing for the hundredth time. You’re doing more than anyone realizes.
You can also pull back the curtain with simple language. “This looks easy, but it takes a lot of energy for me.” The more we name the invisible, the less it isolates us.
And if you love someone with ADHD, assume there’s always more happening than you see. Try, “I can’t see how hard you’re working, but I believe you are.” That sentence can change everything.
Why we feel so deeply
ADHDers don’t just feel, we absorb. Every sigh, tone shift, or side-eye hits hard. We feel joy like fireworks and rejection like freefall.
That’s because our emotional regulation system fires late. The rational brain that’s supposed to say “it’s not a big deal” shows up after the amygdala already sounded the alarm. One comment can feel like rejection, one change of plans like panic.
But that same sensitivity gives us empathy, intuition, and the ability to feel joy and creativity on a rare, vivid level.
What helps
When emotions hit hard, don’t rush to fix them. Slow them down. Ask, “What just happened?” “What did I hear versus what I think I heard?” “What do I need right now?”
Movement, feeling your feet, unclenching your jaw, taking one deep breath, tells your body you’re safe.
And if you love someone who feels deeply, don’t try to calm them. Just be calm with them. Your steadiness helps us find ours.
Why compassion changes everything
Compassion is what turns understanding into healing. It’s the bridge between knowing why we do what we do and believing we can do it differently.
For ADHDers, self-compassion isn’t a luxury, it’s oxygen. We’ve spent years hearing we’re too much or not enough until those voices became our own. But your brain believes what you tell it. If you feed it “I can’t get anything right,” it wires that in. If you whisper, “This is hard, and I’m doing my best,” it starts to rewire for calm and confidence.
Self-compassion isn’t making excuses. It’s treating yourself like someone worth helping. It says, I’m allowed to be human while I grow.
Stop fighting your brain
When we stop fighting our brains and start working with them, everything softens. The lies, the avoidance, the procrastination, they’re not flaws, they’re coping strategies built for survival. Compassion turns punishment into permission. Permission to pause, to begin again, to be a work in progress and still worthy right now.
If you’ve spent your life trying to outsmart or out-shame your ADHD, maybe it’s time to stop fighting your brain and start partnering with it. Because you don’t need to be harder on yourself to thrive. You just need to be on your own side.
If this article resonated with you and you’re ready to quiet the guilt, find your rhythm, and create real change, coaching might be the next step. If you’d like to explore these ideas more deeply, my book ADHD’s Silent Challenges: How to Navigate What Most People Don’t Understand offers practical strategies and compassionate guidance for navigating ADHD from the inside out.
Bari Fischer, ADHD & Executive Function Coach
As an ADHD & Executive Function Coach, Bari is dedicated to guiding individuals on a journey of self-discovery, rooted in honesty, trust, and meaningful conversations. She works closely with clients to navigate the intricate dance of life's choices and consequences, shining a light on their strengths and celebrating every achievement along the way. This path is more than just ticking off milestones, it's about stepping into the lead role of one's own life story, understanding and embracing one's unique brain wiring. With Bari, the coaching journey is an exploration of discovery, growth, and the joy found in every step forward.
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