Error 503: Motivation Temporarily Unavailable

Hey friends. I disappeared for a bit not because I forgot, but because life hit the big red "shutdown" button. A few weeks ago, I was let go. No warning, no build-up, just… gone. One day I had stability, the next I was staring at my screen doing mental math about bills and self-worth. It’s been rough. Losing a job after only a few months already stings, but being neurodivergent adds another layer routines shattered, confidence glitching, brain spinning between panic and exhaustion. So this issue isn’t a comeback story. It’s a pause. A small, honest checkpoint for anyone else who’s buffering right now too.

When the floor drops out

The hardest part wasn't even the meeting itself it was the after. That quiet space where everything stops moving, and suddenly you have nowhere to be, nothing to log into, no messages to check. You go from sprinting to stillness in a single afternoon, and it's jarring.

People talk about resilience like it's a button you can press. But when your brain already runs on fragile energy and structure, job loss doesn’t just hurt it unravels the scaffolding that holds your days together. The "What now?" becomes a looping thought you can't close.

For me, it wasn't just about finding another job. It was about rebuilding the mental infrastructure that made the last one possible the routines, the confidence, the small rituals that keep you functional when the world feels chaotic. And honestly, that's slow work.

Probation periods and perfection pressure

Let's talk about probation periods. Whoever designed them clearly never met an ADHD brain in survival mode. You show up trying to prove yourself, masking hard, trying to be consistent, learning a new system, and battling imposter thoughts that whisper you’re already behind.

And then just as you're getting your footing — it’s gone. It’s not just a job loss it’s a confidence loss. You start wondering if you missed something obvious, if your effort didn't look like effort to someone else, if your pace or your process was misread as lack of care.

It's exhausting trying to fit into performance checkboxes that weren't built for neurodivergent rhythms. We don’t thrive under watchful eyes and ticking timers we thrive when trusted, when given room to grow, when our energy can flow instead of being constantly monitored.

Rejection letters and other forms of silence

Now, in between jobs, comes the next challenge applying again. The grind of rewriting cover letters, hitting "submit", waiting days or weeks for an email that often never arrives. The silence becomes its own kind of rejection.

And yet, you keep going. You tweak your CV. You try to sound confident even when you're scared. You celebrate the small wins a recruiter reply, a positive chat, a good coding test. You remind yourself that the world didn’t end, even if it feels smaller for a while.

Rejection isn'tt proof of your worth. it’s just bad timing in a noisy system. Still, that doesn't mean it doesn’t sting. It’s okay to feel that sting. It’s okay to rest before you "bounce back."

The quiet kind of resilience

Not every restart is loud. Sometimes it’s just showing up to your desk again, sending one email, writing one line, cleaning your desktop, making a coffee. Healing doesn’t look like motivation returning overnight. It looks like staying gentle with yourself while the system recovers.

So if you’re also buffering right now between jobs, between bursts of energy, between knowing and not knowing what’s next I see you. You’re not lazy, you’re not broken, and you’re not alone in this endless reboot cycle.

Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is let the loading bar sit for a while. Trust that the next screen will appear, even if right now it’s just black.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for waiting while I buffered. I know Almost Done went quiet for a couple of weeks, and I’m grateful you’re still here. Life threw a memory leak I didn’t see coming, but writing this reminded me why I started to make space for honesty, not hustle.

If you’re in your own reboot right now, take this as permission to go slow. Send one application. Rest one extra hour. Remember that surviving the crash is still progress.

I’ll be back next issue with something a little lighter maybe even something to make both our brains laugh again.

Simen
🧠 Buffer waves from the corner, still loading but smiling.