As someone not particularly interested in the spotlight, I’ve always much preferred to stay back in London, letting others soak in the adulation, lap up the respect of their industry peers and generally have a great time in the sunshine.
Also – I’ve never been invited.
But I’ve lived through so many build ups to so many ‘big days’. Intense periods of chaos and pressure. Pitches. Getting creative approved and signed off by the actual government. A six week pre-production leading up to a three day shoot of back-to-back 18 hour days.
And it was in those moments that I felt unstoppable. As Rudyard Kipling so memorably wrote:
“If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you, you’ve probably got ADHD my son”.
Or something, I never really cared for poetry.
The point is what happens next: When the intensity stops, when the job is done – regardless of whether the outcome was positive or negative – what comes next is usually a crash.
It’ll feel like tiredness, that lasts for much longer than you actually needed to rest for. It’s not depression although it definitely feels like it.
It’s the crash caused by mainlining dopamine for days, weeks, months on end. You’ve been thriving in the chaos because your ADHD brain has been in its element. But now you’ve been plonked back into ‘real life’ and you’re probably feeling a few of these –
- A near total inability to activate on things which used to feel easy.
- Emotionally blank, or really easily irritated.
- Unable to complete anything without a pressing deadline or a gun to your head.
- Difficulty engaging with people that aren’t likely to hand you a Golden Lion statue.
But you have to reframe this as a perfectly reasonable neurological response from a brain which seeks excitement, adventure and really wild things – had them in large quantities and then been sent back to South London without any formal aftercare.
So before you head back to the office and start provoking unnecessary arguments with the leadership team just TO FEEL SOMETHING AGAIN, let me tell you what’s going on and what you can do about it.
The Why: what’s happening in your ADHD brain
The ADHD brain doesn’t run on importance. It doesn’t run on good intentions, promised rewards, or the rational understanding that something really should get done.
It runs on interest. On novelty. On urgency. On the feeling that what you’re doing genuinely matters, right now, and that the clock is running.
This is what researchers describe as the interest-based nervous system. Dr. William Dodson, a psychiatrist specialising in adult ADHD, identified that unlike neurotypical brains (which can fire up when something is simply important), the ADHD brain primarily activates when at least one of five conditions is present: interest, challenge, novelty, urgency, or passion.
A pitch with three days to go hits all five.
A government-approved shoot in its final week of pre-production hits all five.
Cannes — a week of intense creative stimulation, industry pressure, competitive tension and relentless novelty — hits all five simultaneously, for seven consecutive days.
Your ADHD brain wasn’t struggling to cope with those conditions. It was running exactly as designed.
Here’s where it gets complicated.
The ADHD brain also has a dysregulated dopamine system. Dopamine is the neurotransmitter that creates the sense of connection between effort and reward, between doing a thing and feeling like it mattered. ADHD brains produce and process it differently. Not enough, and not reliably.
High-intensity environments compensate for this. They provide the external stimulation the ADHD brain can’t consistently generate from the inside. That’s why a chaotic pre-production feels more manageable than a quiet Tuesday. That’s why the deadline actually helps.
But when the environment changes, the external supply stops. The brain that was running on premium fuel is suddenly running on nothing. No amount of willpower changes the fact that the tank is empty.
This is the crash. Not burnout. Not failure. Not ingratitude. A neurological withdrawal from the conditions your brain was using as fuel.
And here’s the piece most people miss: it doesn’t matter how the thing went. The crash happens after the brilliant shoot and after the one that nearly broke you. It happens after the award and after the loss. Because the brain wasn’t running on success. It was running on intensity. And the intensity is gone.
What Can You Do About It
1. Anticipate it. This is genuinely the most useful thing. The crash is predictable, which means it’s manageable, as long as you’re not surprised by it. If you’re reading this mid-crash and thinking “oh, this has a name”, you’re already ahead. Next time, plan for it before you leave.
2. Build a re-entry plan. Not aspirational goals for the week back. An actual plan, specific and low-demand, for the first 48 hours. Clear the most time-sensitive emails. Handle the one or two things that genuinely can’t wait. Then give yourself permission for a slower return to full capacity. The people who try to sprint straight back to normal output are the ones who end up provoking the unnecessary arguments.
3. Capture the energy before it fades. Whatever lit you up during the build-up or the event itself, write it down now. The idea that felt urgent. The person you wanted to speak to again. The thing that made you think “we should do this differently.” That material has a short half-life. In a week it will feel distant. Right now it is still live.
4. Reduce optional load. This is not the week for difficult conversations, big decisions, or putting yourself in situations that require emotional regulation you don’t currently have. If it can wait, let it wait. If you find yourself composing a strongly-worded email, close the tab and come back to it in four days.
5. Take recovery seriously. Sleep. Actual sleep. Your nervous system has been running hot for weeks. Recovery is not laziness. It is maintenance. And the people who treat it as maintenance come back faster than the people who push through on fumes and mild aggression.
One more thing. If this pattern is familiar (not just from Cannes or one project, but as a recurring feature of how you work) it is worth understanding it properly. ADHD coaching doesn’t just help with focus and productivity. It helps you map your own cycle: when you thrive, when you crash, and how to design work that uses the peaks without being ambushed by the valleys every time.
The crash is real. But it doesn’t have to keep taking you by surprise.
If you’re reading this and want to understand your ADHD brain better, check out my coaching page for more on how I work with clients.