Done Is Good Enough

A Love Letter to My ADHD Brain

by Jenni | January 13, 2026

I've been thinking a lot about the phrase "done is good enough" lately. Not because I've mastered itDone Is Good Enough: A Love Letter to My ADHD Brain

I've been thinking a lot about the phrase "done is good enough" lately. Not because I've mastered it—I haven't—but because I'm finally understanding why it's been so goddamn hard for me to internalize.

For years, people have told me I'm a perfectionist. They'd watch me work myself into the ground, revising and tweaking and never quite finishing, and they'd say, "You just need to let it be good enough." And I'd nod, because that sounded reasonable. But then I'd go right back to the same pattern, and eventually I started believing there was something fundamentally broken about me. Like I was choosing to make everything harder than it needed to be.

Turns out, that wasn't the problem at all.

The Real Issue Wasn't Perfectionism

Here's what nobody understood, including me: I wasn't refusing to call things "done" because I thought they weren't perfect enough. I was stuck because I genuinely didn't know what "done" meant in the first place.

My ADHD brain doesn't experience endpoints the way neurotypical brains do. When you tell me to "just finish it," my brain doesn't have a concrete definition of what finished looks like. Instead, it sees infinite possibilities. I could add this feature, or adjust that section, or explore this tangent, or rework that paragraph. None of those options feel more "done" than the others. They're all just... options. Endless, exhausting, equally valid options.

This is why I thrive in chaos. When I'm juggling four projects with hard deadlines and someone waiting on each one, my brain knows exactly what "done" means: it's when the deadline hits or when the person needs it. Those are concrete, external constraints. My nervous system can finally exhale because the decision has been made for me.

But when it's just me, working on something with no clear finish line? That's when I spiral. Not because I'm a perfectionist, but because I'm drowning in possibility without a life raft.

What "Done Is Good Enough" Actually Means for Me

I used to think this phrase was about lowering my standards. About accepting mediocrity or settling for less than my best work. That felt impossible, because I'm not wired to half-ass things. I'm a worker. I go until I physically can't anymore.

But "done is good enough" isn't about doing less. It's about defining the finish line before I start.

It means asking myself: What is the version of this that serves its purpose? Not the version that explores every possible angle or includes every brilliant idea I have. The version that does what it needs to do and stops there.

For me, that looks like:

A blog post that makes one strong point, even if I thought of three more while writing it

A product description that converts, even if I could write five more versions

A design that's cohesive and on-brand, even if I see other directions it could go

"Good enough" doesn't mean lazy. It means functional. Complete. Serving its purpose without chasing every rabbit hole my brain wants to explore.

Why This Is So Hard (And Why It Matters)

My brain generates possibilities like it's getting paid for it. That's not a flaw—it's why I'm creative, why I think outside the box, why I can see angles other people miss. But it's also why I struggle to stop.

Every time I work on something, my brain is actively creating new versions in real time. It's like trying to finish a puzzle while someone keeps adding pieces to the box. The work isn't getting worse—it's just never quite finished because "finished" keeps moving.

This is where the trauma piece comes in too. I spent most of my life erasing my own needs, working until collapse, never asking for help. I learned that my value came from output, from being useful, from never stopping. So of course "done is good enough" feels threatening. It sounds like giving up. Like being lazy. Like not mattering anymore.

But that's the old story. The one I'm unlearning.

What I'm Learning to Do Instead

I'm learning to build constraints before I start. To define "done" up front so my brain has a target instead of a moving horizon.

Sometimes that looks like:

Setting a word count limit before I start writing

Deciding on one specific goal for a project (not three)

Asking someone else to tell me when it's done

Creating fake deadlines that feel real enough to trigger my brain's urgency response

Rotating between projects so I get the variety my brain craves without abandoning things halfway

I'm also learning to recognize when I'm stuck in possibility paralysis versus actually improving something. If I'm tweaking for the sake of tweaking, it's not perfectionism—it's my brain trying to avoid the discomfort of calling something finished.

The Permission I'm Giving Myself

Done is good enough doesn't mean I'm not allowed to care. It means I'm allowed to stop.

It means I can create something meaningful and complete without exploring every possible variation. It means my worth isn't tied to how much I produce or how long I work or whether I've exhausted every creative avenue.

It means I can trust that the version I made is valuable, even if my brain immediately starts generating ideas for version 2.0.

And maybe most importantly, it means I can work WITH my ADHD brain instead of trying to force it into neurotypical standards of productivity. My brain thrives on variety, urgency, and external constraints. So instead of fighting that, I'm building systems that give me what I need while still allowing me to finish things.

The Bottom Line

"Done is good enough" isn't about settling. It's about defining success before I start so I know when I've reached it.

It's about respecting my creative brain without letting it hijack my entire life.

It's about recognizing that my struggle to finish things isn't laziness or perfectionism—it's a feature of how my brain works, and I can work with it instead of against it.

I'm still learning this. I still collapse into bed some nights realizing I worked straight through without eating because I couldn't find a stopping point. But I'm getting better at building the constraints I need. At giving myself permission to call things done. At trusting that good enough is actually pretty damn good.

Because here's the truth: I've spent 45 years working around an undiagnosed condition. I've accomplished a lot in that time. Imagine what I could do if I was actually working WITH proper support. With systems that fit my brain instead of fighting it.

That's what "done is good enough" really means to me. Not giving up. Just finally giving myself a fighting chance.