Let me start with a confession: I used to loathe making my bed. I wish I were talking about when I was a child, but it was also as an adult.
It felt pointless—just a repetitive, mundane task that didn’t serve a clear purpose. Why spend time fixing something I was only going to mess up again a few hours later? As a neurodivergent person whose brain often rejects tasks that lack immediate or tangible rewards, this small chore seemed incredibly futile.
For years, I avoided it altogether. There was even a period in my childhood when clean laundry ended up in a heap on the bed while I slept on a narrow sliver of mattress or, embarrassingly, even the floor. My thinking was simple: if no one else sees it, why bother?
But over time, I realized something profound: making my bed every day wasn’t about the bed itself. It was about creating a sense of calm and accomplishment in a chaotic world.
If you’re neurodivergent, you may recognize the constant tug-of-war between executive dysfunction and the endless to-do list. Seemingly simple tasks like making the bed can feel overwhelming or unnecessary because our brains prioritize differently. Yet, reframing these small actions can be transformative.
Here’s how making my bed became a grounding ritual, not a chore—a way to support my neurodivergent brain and feel successful in my own unique way.
Understanding the “Why”
For many neurodivergent people, including myself, tasks need to have meaning. Without a clear “why,” it’s easy for them to fall off the radar. This is where I had to start: assigning a purpose to the act of making my bed.
I decided that making my bed would be a visible reminder of productivity. No matter how unpredictable or overwhelming my day became, I could point to that one accomplishment as proof that I had taken action.
More importantly, the act of making my bed symbolized bringing order to chaos—a tangible way to reset my space and, in turn, my mind. For those of us who often struggle with overstimulation or a racing brain, small moments of order can provide immense comfort.
A Simple Ritual for an Overwhelmed Mind
At first, I resisted. Even knowing my “why,” the act of making my bed still felt tedious. Neurodivergent brains are wired for novelty and stimulation, and repetitive tasks like bed-making don’t exactly spark joy.
But I decided to turn this mundane task into a mindful ritual, one that could work with my brain rather than against it.
Here’s how I reframed it:
- Be Present
Neurodivergent minds often operate on overdrive, jumping from one thought to the next like a browser with too many open tabs. To counteract this, I approached making my bed as an exercise in mindfulness.Each morning, I committed to staying fully present while tucking in the sheets and smoothing the comforter. I focused on the texture of the fabric, the motions of my hands, and the rhythm of my breathing. When my mind inevitably wandered, I gently guided it back to the task.This wasn’t easy at first. My thoughts would leap to my to-do list or spiral into anxieties. But over time, this simple ritual became a way to ground myself—a small, achievable moment of peace in an otherwise unpredictable day. - Assign Meaning
For neurodivergent individuals, assigning meaning to a task can transform it from a dreaded obligation into a purposeful action. I wrote down my intentions for making my bed, reinforcing its significance:- It’s a small win that starts my day on a positive note.
- It creates a calm, welcoming space to return to at night.
- It’s proof that I can accomplish something, even when other tasks feel insurmountable.
- Reflect on the Outcome
Neurodivergent people often focus on “what’s next,” rarely pausing to acknowledge their achievements. I decided to change that.Each night, when I walked into my room, I took a moment to stand by my bed and reflect. I let myself feel the satisfaction of having completed this small act of care earlier in the day.This reflection wasn’t just about the bed; it was about recognizing my ability to follow through, even when my brain tried to convince me otherwise.
Why This Matters for Neurodivergent Minds
Making the bed isn’t a magical cure for executive dysfunction or anxiety. But it’s a starting point—a low-pressure, high-reward action that can create momentum for other tasks.
For neurodivergent individuals, building momentum is key. Our brains often struggle with transitions and initiating tasks, so having a simple ritual can help “kickstart” the day.
Additionally, creating a predictable routine provides a sense of stability. Many neurodivergent people thrive with structure, but designing a system that feels authentic and achievable is crucial. Making the bed fit perfectly into my morning routine because it was quick, tangible, and immediately rewarding.
Neurodivergent-Affirming Steps to Try
If you’d like to try this practice, here’s a neurodivergent-friendly approach to making it work:
- Start Small
If the thought of fully making your bed feels overwhelming, begin with one small step—like pulling up the comforter or arranging your pillows. Progress, not perfection, is the goal. - Pair It with Something Enjoyable
Turn on a favorite song, hum a tune, or set a timer for a fun challenge. Pairing the task with something you enjoy can make it feel less like a chore. - Make It Yours
Personalize the ritual to suit your preferences. Choose bedding in textures or colors that bring you joy, or add a cozy blanket that feels like a hug. - Celebrate Your Wins
Each time you make your bed, take a moment to acknowledge your effort. A simple “I did it!” or a quiet smile can reinforce the positive association.
The Unexpected Joy
Now, making my bed has become second nature. I no longer have to remind myself why it matters or force myself to focus. It’s become a habit—a neurodivergent-friendly ritual that grounds me in the present and helps me feel successful every single day.
What started as an experiment in self-discipline turned into an act of self-care. At night, when I see my neatly made bed, it’s a reminder that I’ve done something for myself—that even on the hardest days, I’ve accomplished something.
If you’re navigating life with a neurodivergent mind, I invite you to try this simple practice. It’s not about being perfect or keeping up appearances; it’s about finding joy in small wins and creating a space that feels like yours.
In a world that often feels overwhelming, small rituals like this can make a big difference. So go ahead—give it a try. Make your bed. And make it yours.