There is a word that follows a lot of us around. It shows up on report cards, in performance reviews, in the tone of a partner’s voice when the dishes are still in the sink. It shows up, most reliably, in our own heads at 11 p.m., looking at a list we wrote that morning with nothing crossed off.
The word is lazy.
It’s a small word, and it does a lot of work. It explains everything quickly and nothing well. It takes a gap between what you meant to do and what you actually did, and it fills that gap with a verdict about your character.
Many neurocomplex people experience something closer to a mismatch. There’s a gap between what they want to do and what their brain can reliably initiate, organize, sequence, tolerate, or sustain.
That is a different explanation entirely, and it leads to different solutions. If it’s true for you, a lot of the story you’ve been told about yourself was built on the wrong foundation.
Then there is the harder question, the one this essay is really about: what if years of being called lazy actually changed the way you experience yourself?