Decision Fatigue and the Mental Load: Why Decision Making Is So Hard for Neurodivergent Mums

Have you ever been asked a perfectly ordinary question and suddenly your brain gives you… nothing?

“What do you want for dinner?”

Blank.

“Do you want tea or coffee?”

Apparently impossible.

“Which appointment works better for you?”

Please allow three to five business days for my brain to formulate a response.

Decision making can be surprisingly difficult for neurodivergent mums. Sometimes we can think through incredibly complicated problems, notice details other people miss and hold enormous amounts of information about our families, yet a seemingly tiny decision can leave us completely paralysed.

And when you combine a neurodivergent brain with the enormous mental load of motherhood, it makes sense that sometimes there is simply nothing left in the decision-making tank.

Decision making relies heavily on executive functioning.

Executive functioning is the collection of brain processes involved in things like planning, prioritising, working memory, organisation and getting started.

It is also the part responsible for remembering why you walked into the room, where you put your coffee and what you were doing before someone interrupted you seventeen seconds ago.

For many neurodivergent people, particularly those with ADHD and autism, executive functioning works differently. One of the consequences is that it can be harder to quickly sort information into what matters and what doesn’t.

Imagine someone asks whether you would like tea or coffee.

Simple question, right?

Except your brain might immediately produce:

What type of coffee? How much caffeine have I already had today? What time is it? Is there milk? Do I actually want coffee? Tea might be better. What tea is there? Have I had enough water today? Should I really have another coffee?

Suddenly two options have become approximately 47 pieces of information.

The problem isn’t that you can’t think. Often, it is almost the opposite.

There is so much information arriving that working out which information actually matters becomes exhausting.

All human brains have limits.

There is only so much thinking, processing and decision making we can do before our cognitive capacity starts running low. For neurodivergent mums, that capacity can be eaten up particularly quickly because each decision may require more conscious sorting, prioritising and processing.

Then we add motherhood.

Before kids, there were plenty of ways to reduce the number of decisions in a day.Take the same route to work. Eat the same breakfast. Wear similar clothes. Follow your own routines. Then suddenly there are children.

Now you are making decisions for yourself plus one, two, three or more additional humans. What are they eating? What needs to go in the school bag? Is that cough bad enough to stay home? Which appointment should we prioritise? Have we replied to the teacher? Who needs new shoes? What are we doing this weekend? Where is the library book?

And, somehow, all roads seem to lead back to Mum.

This is part of the invisible mental load that so many mums carry. It isn’t just completing tasks. It is constantly noticing, remembering, anticipating, planning and deciding. For neurodivergent mums, that mental load can collide spectacularly with executive functioning differences.

You are being asked to do something that already requires significant cognitive energy, and then motherhood dramatically increases the number of times you have to do it. Winning.

There can be another layer to decision making for neurodivergent women: sometimes we have spent so long trying to find the “right” answer that we have lost touch with our own answer. Many neurodivergent women have histories of masking, people pleasing or rejection sensitivity.

We learn to look around.

What is everyone else doing?

What would be appropriate?

What does this person want me to say?

What answer will create the least friction?

Instead of simply asking, “What do I want?”, our brains can start running an entire social risk assessment.

When someone asks where you want to eat, you might automatically respond with, “I don’t mind, what do you want?” Sometimes that is flexibility.

Sometimes it is genuinely not knowing what you want because you are trying to calculate everyone else’s preferences first.

That adds even more cognitive load to something that was already difficult.

Eventually, the decision-making battery runs out. This is often when we start choosing the path of least resistance.

What’s for dinner?

No idea. Takeaway.

Do I make that appointment now?

Too hard. Tomorrow.

Which school form option should I choose?

Close tab.

These aren’t moral failures. They are often signs that the cognitive resources required to make another decision simply aren’t available right now.

So rather than trying to become magically better at making endless decisions, we can ask a different question:

How can we reduce the number of decisions our brain needs to make?

One of my favourite strategies for reducing mental load is creating defaults.

A default is something you have decided once so that you don’t have to keep deciding it.

Maybe you have five easy dinners that rotate regularly.

Maybe school lunches follow roughly the same formula every day.

Maybe you own multiples of clothes you know you like.

Maybe Wednesday is always grocery day.

Maybe you order the same coffee every time.

Defaults aren't boring. They are scaffolding.

Every tiny decision you remove leaves a little more cognitive capacity available for the unexpected decisions that inevitably come flying sideways when you have kids.

You don’t need to systemise your entire life either. Start with the places where you repeatedly find yourself thinking, “Why am I having to decide this again?”

That is often where a default can help.

But we can’t remove every decision.

So when a choice appears and your brain starts treating it like a meeting of the United Nations, try the Rule of Fives.

Ask yourself:

Will I remember this decision in five seconds? Five minutes? Five days? Five weeks? Five months? Five years? Five decades?

Because neurodivergent brains can sometimes give every decision the same emotional weight.

Which takeaway should we order?

Which school should my child attend?

Same flashing red light: DECISION REQUIRED.

But they aren't the same size.

If this decision is unlikely to matter in five months, you probably don't need to spend precious mental energy finding the perfect answer.

Pick one. Toss a coin. Let good enough be good enough.

The goal is not necessarily to make the best possible decision. It is to spend your decision-making energy where it actually matters.

And if something belongs in the five-year or five-decade category?

That deserves more support. Talk it through with someone. Write it down. Gather the information you need. Give yourself time. Big decisions don't have to be carried alone or solved instantly.

If decision making feels disproportionately hard for you, the answer isn't necessarily to try harder. You might already be trying incredibly hard. Instead, look at the environment around the decision.

Can you reduce the number of choices?

Can you create a default?

Can you decide once instead of deciding every day?

Can you identify whether this is genuinely a big decision or whether your brain is simply experiencing it as one?

Neurodivergent motherhood asks our brains to process an extraordinary amount of information while simultaneously managing the mental load of raising children.

Of course there are moments when someone asks, “What do you want for dinner?” and your brain responds by quietly leaving the building.

So make some things easier.

Create defaults where you can.

Save your decision-making energy for the things that genuinely matter.

And if it won't matter in five months?

Maybe this one doesn't need the full committee meeting. Toss the coin.