Your Brain's CEO is Burnt Out: Why Executive Dysfunction Isn't Just an ADHD Thing.

By Liz Wooten, LPC

About the Author: Liz Wooten, LPC, is the founder of Enlitens and a rebellious academic dedicated to dismantling the broken mental health system. As an AuDHD therapist with years of front-line crisis experience, she brings a deep, lived understanding to her work. Read Liz’s Full Story Here

You are not a lazy parent. You are the CEO of a chronically under-resourced, 24/7 corporation with no sick days, and you are experiencing a predictable and legitimate executive burnout.

The kids are finally asleep. The house is a disaster zone of toys, dishes, and half-finished projects. Your mental to-do list is a screaming, endless scroll. You know you should be cleaning, packing lunches, answering that email from the teacher. But you are frozen on the couch, scrolling through your phone, cycling through waves of profound guilt and shame that whisper, “Why can’t you just get up? What is wrong with you?”

OLD MYTH: You are a lazy, unmotivated parent.
REBELLIOUS REFRAME: You are a burnt-out CEO whose brain’s management system is offline.

Let’s reframe this entire picture. You’re not a lazy person in a messy house; you’re the Chief Executive Officer of a complex organization called “Your Family.” The endless, invisible tasks—managing schedules, mediating conflicts, nutritional planning, emotional regulation, sensory accommodation—are the high-stakes projects on your desk.

The problem isn’t your work ethic. The problem is that you have been in a non-stop, high-stress crisis meeting for the last five years, and your board of directors (society) is offering no support.

Your executive functions—the skills of task initiation, planning, prioritizing, and emotional regulation—are all managed by your Prefrontal Cortex. This “CEO of the brain” is not a muscle of willpower; it’s a high-energy biological system with a finite battery. Chronic stress, decision fatigue, and lack of sleep literally drain its power, leading to shutdown. This isn’t a feeling; it’s physics. When the CEO’s battery is dead, the company cannot function.

The myth of the “perfect parent” who does it all effortlessly is a toxic lie designed to sell you things and keep you feeling inadequate. It deliberately ignores the reality of the immense, thankless, and neurologically expensive labor required to run a family. Trying to be a Pinterest-perfect parent in a competitive St. Louis suburb while juggling work and your kids’ complex needs isn’t a reasonable expectation; it’s a recipe for exactly this kind of executive burnout.

THE SYSTEMS CHECK: The CEO’s Energy Audit
Your job isn’t to “try harder.” It’s to conduct an honest audit of your company’s resource crisis.
INCOMING TASKS: What is one recurring task that drains the most energy? (e.g., meal planning)
SYSTEMS & PROCESSES: What is one system that is currently broken? (e.g., the laundry system)
STAFFING (SUPPORT): Where is your CEO most in need of a support department (a partner, a friend, a therapist)?

It is time for a corporate restructuring. You, the CEO, are the most valuable asset in this entire operation and you are running on empty. Stop blaming the CEO for the company’s failures and start re-evaluating the unsustainable systems. Your exhaustion is a data point, not a character flaw. It’s the signal that you need new systems and radical support. The journey of adult late discovery often begins right here, in the quiet wreckage of burnout. When you’re ready to call an all-hands meeting to save your company, we’re here to consult.

Go Deeper Down the Rabbit Hole

Are You Faking It?

A manifesto for anyone who feels like a fraud and worries their struggles aren’t “bad enough” to count.

The Gas & Brake Pedal Problem.

For many parents on empty, the internal war of AuDHD is the hidden reason. An explainer for the “stuck” feeling.

The Pain of "Trying Harder."

A deep dive into Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) and why the shame of not “doing enough” hurts so much.

*The information here is meant to guide and inform, not replace the care of a qualified healthcare professional. If you have questions or concerns about a medical or mental-health condition, please reach out to a trusted provider. The examples shared are based on general personas—no personal health details are used. At Enlitens, your privacy is a top priority, and we fully comply with HIPAA regulations to keep your information safe and confidential.

This is a Conversation,
Not a Debate.

This is not a space for debate or unsolicited advice. It is a space for sharing stories. We read every submission, and we will periodically feature the most resonant and validating stories here with the author’s explicit permission. Submit your’s below!

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Take one second. That’s all I’m asking.

Do not try to “calm down.” Do not try to “fix it.” Do not listen to the voice screaming that you need to do something right now.

Just be here, with me, for one single breath.

My name is Liz. I’ve spent years working overnight in the ER, sitting with people on what was often the worst night of their entire lives. I have sat in the eye of the hurricane, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that the chaos you feel right now is not the truth.

It is a storm in your nervous system. And a storm is just a weather pattern. It is not you. It is not permanent. And you do not have to navigate it alone.

Right now, your brain’s alarm system is screaming. The logical part of your brain has been taken offline. That is a normal, brilliant, biological survival response. But you and I are going to bring it back online, together.

We are going to do one, simple, physical thing. This is not a bulls*hit mindfulness exercise. This is a direct, manual override for your nervous system.

Place your hand on your chest.

Can you feel that? The rise and fall. The rhythm. That is the anchor. That is the proof that you are here, in this moment, and you are alive.

Keep your hand there.

Now, we are going to make one choice. The storm is telling you there are a million overwhelming things you have to do. That is a lie. There are only three choices right now, and you only need to pick one.

If you or someone else is in immediate, physical danger and you need help on site, right now:

This is the button you push when you need the paramedics or the police to show up. This is the “bring the fire truck” button.

If you are having thoughts of suicide and you need to talk or text with a human, right now:

This is the national, 24/7 lifeline. It is free, it is confidential, and it is staffed by trained counselors who are ready to listen without judgment. This is the “I need a lifeline” button.

If you are in St. Louis, you are not in crisis but you are in deep distress and need to talk to someone local:

Behavioral Health Response (BHR) is our community’s lifeline. They provide free, confidential telephone counseling and can connect you with local resources. This is the “I need a local guide” button.