After I finally got started on the client’s books – one bank statement at a time – something became clearer.
The problem had never really been the accounts.
It was the friction around the work.
Not the kind of friction you can easily point to. Nothing dramatic or obvious. Just a set of subtle forces that make starting, continuing, or finishing something feel harder than it should.
Looking back, I could see those forces at play quite clearly.
They tend to show up in a few familiar ways.
Delay
This is the easiest one to spot.
You know what needs to be done. You might even have a plan. But somehow, you don’t quite start.
Or you start… and then drift away from it.
It doesn’t feel like a decision. It just… doesn’t happen.
Doubt
LOnce you do begin, doubt starts to creep in.
Is this the right category?
Am I doing this properly?
Should I fix something else first?
None of these questions are unreasonable. But taken together, they slow things down and make even simple steps feel uncertain.
Drag
This is the sense of heaviness.
The work moves — but slowly. Every step feels like it takes more effort than it should. Progress is real, but it’s laboured.
You’re moving forward, just not with any kind of ease.
Distortion
This one is more subtle.
The task itself starts to look bigger or more complex than it really is.
“Do the books” becomes something that feels like it requires perfect structure, complete information, and a fully thought-through system before anything meaningful can begin.
The reality is usually much simpler — but it doesn’t feel that way in the moment.
In practice, these rarely show up in isolation.
It’s often a combination.
A task might feel bigger than it really is (distortion), which creates hesitation (delay), which then feeds uncertainty (doubt), and before long everything feels heavier than it should (drag).
Left unchecked, they tend to reinforce each other.
And for many neurodivergent individuals, this effect can be more pronounced.
Not because of a lack of capability — quite the opposite — but because the way the work is presented doesn’t always align well with how their brain processes it.
Which means the friction is felt more strongly, and more often.
What’s important is that none of these are really about capability.
They’re about how the work is framed.
In my case, once I shifted from “do the books” to “complete one bank statement,” most of that friction started to fall away.
Not completely — but enough.
Enough to start.
Enough to continue.
Enough to make real progress.
If you recognise any of these patterns in your own work, it’s worth asking a simple question:
What kind of friction is this?
Because once you can see it, you’re in a much better position to do something about it.
And often, the first step isn’t to work harder.
It’s simply to make starting easier.