There’s a reason you snap. And it was never « because you’re a bad person ». My new illustrated workbook will show you what your anger really is… and how to repair without drowning in shame.
The workbook you came for, plus my complete illustrated book ADHD & Emotions. One download, two books.
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No streaks. No daily habit. No 30-day challenge.
Instant download · 3 small steps · Made with love from an ADHD for brains like ours
Open it, sit with it, fill a page or two. If it isn’t the right fit for you, email me within 30 days and I’ll refund you. No forms. No reason to explain. You even get to keep the book. I would rather you feel safe saying yes than stuck with something that didn’t help.
It’s 6pm. You’re cooking. The noise level is rising, your phone is buzzing, and somewhere in your head a voice is listing everything you should have done today.
Then someone asks you a simple question.
And it comes out. Louder than you wanted. Sharper than they deserved.
You know what happens next, because it always happens next. The silence. Their face. The shame washing in before the echo of your own voice is even gone.
So tonight you’ll replay it in bed. You’ll promise that tomorrow will be different.
And you mean it. You mean it every single time.
Then next time comes anyway.
I know this loop by heart. I lived in it for years.
« Why am I such a terrible person? »
That’s what I asked my bathroom mirror one Monday evening. It was 6:30pm and I had locked myself in there to cry. Downstairs: a half-cooked dinner, a messy kitchen, a cranky three-year-old, and a partner I had just shouted at for virtually no reason.
For years, I believed my anger came out of nowhere. That something was deeply broken in me.
Then one day, I went back to that Monday and looked at it honestly. Not at the shouting. At everything that came before the shouting.
Eight drops. No wonder.
All day long, drops fall into it. The noise. The interruptions. The « I should be doing laundry right now » thoughts. The lunch you skipped. The mask you wore all day.
Each drop is small. Invisible, almost. So nobody counts them. Not even you.
Then a simple question lands on a gauge that’s already full… and it overflows.
That’s the snap. It was never about the question.
Once you see your anger this way, you can’t unsee it. And everything starts to change. The snapping. The shame after. Even the apologies you could never get out.
One day, a few phone alarms, two minutes of noticing at a time. You’ll watch your gauge fill in real time… something most people never do once in their whole life.
You’ll find the drops that really filled your gauge, and the needs hiding under them. (Spoiler: it was never about the sock.)
My Apology Card, and the exact words to say sorry without spiraling into shame. This is the step your relationships will feel.
You’ve tried calm. You’ve counted to ten (the snap arrives around three). You’ve read the gentle posts. You’ve made the promises.
None of it failed because you’re weak. It failed because it all targets the snap… and the snap is the end of the story. This workbook starts at the beginning. Hours earlier. Where your gauge quietly fills, drop by drop, while nobody’s watching.
We won’t try to fix you, because you’re not broken.
We’ll teach you to see.
If I could go back to that bathroom, I wouldn’t tell the crying woman in the mirror to calm down. (She would have thrown the soap at me.)
I would tell her: your gauge is full. It’s been filling all day. You couldn’t see it, because nobody ever showed you.
Let me show you.