Tools for ADHD: Systems That Work When You’re Leading a Team

I’ve been leading with ADHD for years without realizing it. I just thought I was bad at the simple stuff.

I’d procrastinate on easy tasks, forget to post updates, or leave small follow-ups half-done. Nothing catastrophic, just loose ends that multiplied when I got busy. Long before I had a name for it, I was quietly looking for tools for ADHD that could keep those loose ends from piling up.

What confused me was the contrast. I could handle large, complex projects with calm precision. When things broke, I’d find the issue quickly and help others do the same. But when it came to smaller, repetitive tasks, my mind resisted. Five minutes of writing a weekly check-in felt heavier than an hour of strategy work.

At first, I blamed discipline. Then I blamed distraction. Neither explanation held up. I cared about my work and my team; I just couldn’t make my brain care about the boring parts long enough to keep them consistent.

Eventually, that friction had started to show.

The Wake-Up Ping

By mid-2024, the small cracks had become visible. Nothing major, just patterns that were difficult to ignore: PRs lagging, updates inconsistent, and feedback loops breaking. Then came a Slack ping from my lead that stopped me cold.

“[…] I didn’t expect this to be the case, but after looking into details like PR due dates, your team’s weekly updates, and some of the feedback from your team members, there are some areas where I don’t feel you’re meeting expectations for a lead. Let’s talk through it though, as I definitely want to hear your perspective, and we can meet some time next week to discuss it further. […]”

That message landed in the middle of a regular workday. My lead’s tone was fair and constructive, but reading it still made my stomach drop. I’d never received a bad review before. Technically, this wasn’t one either, but it called out the one area where I knew I struggled: consistency.

The examples were small but undeniable: PR due dates missed because I procrastinated, weekly summaries left half-written, and scattered or missing notes from one-on-ones. These weren’t performance failures; they were process gaps. The kind of gaps that make everything else look shaky if you don’t patch them fast.

I remember sitting there thinking, how can I be trusted with complex projects but not with routine updates? It didn’t feel logical. Still, it was true. And that message made me pause long enough to look at the problem from a different angle.

Connecting the Dots

Some time later, I went through testing and got a Combined ADHD diagnosis. It wasn’t a surprise, more like confirmation of something I’d been trying to work around for years. But knowing what it was changed how I approached work.

Suddenly, the pattern made sense. The harder and more stimulating the task, the more focused I became. The simpler and more repetitive it was, the harder it became to start. Urgency worked better than routine. Interest worked better than obligation.

The problem wasn’t motivation or care. It was stimulus. My brain prioritized intensity over consistency, novelty over repetition. That insight explained a lot: not just why I procrastinated, but why “trying harder” had never worked.

Once I understood that, I stopped chasing discipline and started designing systems that aligned with how I actually function.

Building Systems and Tools for ADHD that Align

I’ve tried every productivity tool at least once. Notion, Todoist, task boards, paper lists, and many more, but only a handful turned into real ADHD productivity tools I could rely on. Most of them failed for the same reason: they expected me to maintain the system more than they helped me use it.

What stuck are the tools that fit naturally into how I already think. I didn’t build elaborate workflows; I simplified until things worked almost out of the box.

The ADHD Tools that Stuck

Google Calendar is my external memory. Everything goes there — meetings, birthdays, tasks, even “pay the electricity bill.” For me, it’s one of the simplest ADHD time management tools. The moment I learn about something, I add it. If it’s not in Calendar, it doesn’t exist. I check it constantly, not because I’m organized, but because I trust it more than I trust my memory.

Slack is both a communication tool and a safety net. I’ve turned off the red notification bubble because it hijacks my focus, but I rely heavily on /remind for follow-ups and repeating tasks. When someone messages me, I open it only if I can respond fully; otherwise, I leave it unread and let Slack handle the timing. My team knows this system and works with it. They’ll ping me again without hesitation if I miss something — no judgment, no awkwardness. It’s a small courtesy that keeps things moving.

The biggest breakthrough came with Quill Meetings. For years, I struggled to take notes during one-on-ones. I’d try to type and listen simultaneously, which broke the conversation and left me with half-formed notes. Or I’d stay fully present and forget the details minutes later. Now I run each session through Quill with quick templates I built myself for one-on-ones and coaching. The AI structures notes the way I need them, and I edit lightly afterward as necessary. I read them before the next 1:1 to plan the upcoming call. It removed one of my biggest sources of friction: remembering.

You can download my custom templates here or on the resources page:

Email and P2s are my quietest tools but also the most reliable. At Automattic, internal blogs (P2s) are where we discuss asynchronously. We have a saying that if it’s not on a P2, it didn’t happen. I subscribe to the ones that matter and receive digests by email instantly, daily, or weekly. I skim them quickly, deleting what’s irrelevant, reading what deserves attention.

Email itself is part of the same system. If a message stays in my inbox, it means something still needs to happen: a reply, a decision, or a task. When it’s done, I delete it. No labels, no folders, no flags. Just open or gone.

Then there’s redundancy. I use Siri for quick reminders and duplicate the important ones: a soft ping first, a louder one later. I keep loose notes in Apple Notes. Short entries, no categories or even titles. None of these are marketed as ADHD apps, but together they behave like a custom toolkit for my brain. The goal isn’t elegance; it’s permanence.

Finally, my workspace: a large monitor, quiet room, and minimal input. If my wife is with me she might keep background TV on, usually a show we know by memory or Romanian shows I only half-understand. It’s low or uninteresting enough to not matter. But absolutely no music.

Individually, none of these tools is special. Together, they form a scaffolding that absorbs the cognitive noise.

The Team as a System

One thing I’m thankful for is how my team meets me halfway. I’ve been transparent about ADHD since my diagnosis, and even before, about my struggles. That openness has built mutual trust.

They know to nudge me on things I might forget. They know that if I repeat an idea we’ve already discussed, it’s not forgetfulness in spirit, it’s just a thought resurfacing. They don’t take it personally.

We’ve built shared habits to keep everyone aligned: common agendas in Google Docs, recurring reminders in Slack, and explicit deadlines for each task. If something doesn’t have a date or an owner, it doesn’t exist. That rule helps everyone, not just me.

The process has made us collectively sharper. My personal scaffolding became team infrastructure. What started as my workaround turned into a culture of clarity.

What ADHD Taught Me About Leadership

Getting diagnosed didn’t change how I lead, it clarified why I lead the way I do. It turned “leadership” into ADHD leadership. Not a different style, just a more deliberate one that starts from friction instead of pretending it isn’t there.

It made me notice how much energy people spend hiding their friction points. Everyone has them, whether it’s attention, anxiety, or something else.

It also deepened my curiosity. I’ve learned to listen and ask more before giving feedback. When someone drops the ball, I ask what the bottleneck is before assuming it’s motivation. Often it’s structural, not personal.

And it reinforced my need for clarity. Clear expectations and deadlines aren’t bureaucracy, they’re protection. They remove ambiguity, which saves everyone from the mental tax of guessing.

Good leadership isn’t about being flawless or hyper-efficient. It’s about designing reliability into the environment so people can be human without losing momentum.

What Still Resists

Some friction doesn’t go away. Weekly check-ins still feel like pushing a rock uphill.
They take five minutes, but I resist them every time.

I’ve stopped pretending I’ll find the perfect solution. The only strategy that works is to do them immediately when the reminder appears. No delay, no overthinking. If I hesitate, it’s gone.

If someone ever figures out how to make boring tasks feel rewarding, I’ll be the first to sign up.

Leading With Understanding

ADHD didn’t make me a worse leader; it made me a more deliberate one. The systems I use, from reminders to meeting templates to clear team rules, exist to reduce friction, not mask it.

I don’t measure my success by spotless notes or punctual updates. I measure it by how well I and my team grow, communicate, and follow through. The structure keeps me consistent enough to support that. If that means I need two reminders for one task, that’s fine. The system works because it’s built around how my brain actually functions.

The tools keep me organized. The team keeps me honest. Time off keeps me energized. That’s balanced enough. None of these replaces proper ADHD diagnosis or treatment; these are simply the tools for ADHD that make my work and leadership less fragile.

What about you? What systems or habits help you stay on track when focus isn’t guaranteed? Drop a note in the comments, I’m always collecting ideas.