My ADHD loves extremes.
Either I’m mapping out an entire new version of myself in one sitting, or I’m staring at a pile of laundry like it personally wronged me.
For a long time, “personal growth” meant exactly that cycle: huge surges of motivation followed by long stretches where even basic tasks—washing my face, running the dishwasher, picking up a book—slid right off the list. I cared. I just couldn’t keep everything in my head and act on it consistently.
The shift happened when I started using a very simple structure: the 1–3–5 rule.
Traditionally, people use the 1–3–5 rule as a productivity trick: one big task, three medium tasks, five small tasks. I twisted it into something more personal:
- 1 = Exercise
- 3 = House chores and personal care
- 5 = Language sessions
It’s not complicated. It’s not glamorous. But it is the most reliable way I have found to show up for my goals without burning out.
What 1–3–5 Looks Like in My Life
Here is how I define it right now:
1 – Exercise
One focused workout or movement session every day. It might be the treadmill, rowing, Pilates, weights, or something lighter on recovery days. The point is that my body gets one intentional block of movement, not just “whatever steps I happened to take.” That single “1” protects my energy, mood, and long-term health more than any elaborate plan ever has.
3 – House Chores and Personal Care
Three specific things that make my environment and body feel cared for. For example:
- Daily: Run the dishwasher.
- Tuesdays and Thursdays: Fold and put away one load of laundry.
- Clean the bathroom sink and counter.
- Nightly: Do my full nighttime skincare routine.
- Change the sheets.
- Prep food for tomorrow so I am not staring into the fridge at 9 p.m.
As a person with ADHD, this is the category that disappears first. My brain is much more interested in learning something new or building something big than wiping down a counter. The problem is that when I ignore these things, my environment slowly turns into visual noise—and that noise makes my brain even more scattered. Three tasks a day is my way of cutting that off before the chaos hits.
5 – Language/Learning Courses
Five bites of learning.
Sometimes that is five language app lessons. Sometimes it is a mix: two grammar drills, a bit of coding practice in a language I don’t write that often, some vocab review, a few chapters of a marketing book or a crash course on a new design tool. They’re small pieces, but they keep the learning habit alive.
Five is important. ADHD loves novelty; it doesn’t love delayed gratification. Five tiny wins scattered through the day are enough to satisfy that part of my brain while still moving me toward something bigger, like actually being able to hold a conversation in another language.
Sunday Planning: Making a Promise on Paper
The rule is one part of the system. The other part is when I plan it.
Every Sunday, I sit down with a planner and map out the week. Not a fantasy week. A real one.
I start with:
- Appointments, calls, and non-negotiable commitments.
- Work projects or deadlines that already exist.
Then I layer in my 1–3–5 for each day:
- I write the 1: “Row 30 minutes” or “Pilates class.”
- I list the 3: “Dishwasher, towels, skincare,” or whatever chores and personal-care tasks make sense. TIP: Add “make the bed” to the top of your list. Studies have proven that making your bed every morning increases productivity by 19%. For me, it’s that first little box being checked off to start my day and it works!
- I sketch the 5: either “1–5” to circle as I go, or specific learning blocks if I want more structure.
On the surface, it looks like any normal weekly spread. The difference is how I think about it.
Using a planner like this feels a lot like making a promise to myself.
I’m not just thinking, “I should really get back into working out and learning languages and being a functioning adult.” I’m saying, “This is what I am going to do on Tuesday.” And there is something about seeing it written down—ink on paper—that makes it more real.
The Gratification of Checking the Box
ADHD brains are built for immediate reward. That’s why it feels easier to scroll, snack, or start something new than to slog through the boring, necessary things.
The 1–3–5 rule takes advantage of that instead of fighting it.
Every time I check a box—exercise done, chore complete, language session finished—I get a tiny hit of satisfaction. It is not just “Yay, I did a thing.” It is “I kept my promise to myself.”
That distinction matters.
When you have a history of half-finished systems and abandoned routines, it’s easy to stop trusting yourself. You stop believing your own plans. The planner becomes a graveyard of good intentions. And a lack of self-reliance/trust can quickly foster feelings of inadequacy that lead to depression.
By contrast, when you look back at the week and see row after row of checked boxes for your 1–3–5, you have visible proof that you do follow through. Maybe not perfectly. Maybe not on every task. But often enough that the story “I never finish anything” starts to loosen its grip.
Why 1–3–5 Works With My ADHD Instead of Against It
There are a few reasons this rule sticks when others have not.
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It’s clear but flexible.
I know I need one workout, three chores/personal-care tasks, and five learning touches. That part doesn’t change. The details can flex depending on my energy, schedule, or mood. My brain gets structure without feeling trapped. -
The numbers are small, but they compound.
One workout is doable. Three chores are doable. Five tiny lessons are doable. None of those, on their own, feel intimidating. But spread over a week, they add up to a healthier body, a cleaner home, and real growth of mind. -
It balances three areas that usually fall out of sync.
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Physical health (exercise)
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Daily functioning and self-respect (chores and personal care)
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Long-term growth/ongoing learning in bite-sized chunks
If I only focus on one, everything else suffers. The 1–3–5 rule keeps all three in view without asking me to “do it all” every day.
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It gives me a realistic success metric.
On a hard day, I might not also write a chapter, reorganize a closet, or redesign my entire life. But if I hit my 1–3–5, I can still say, “Today counted.”
The Planner as an Accountability Partner
Digital to-do lists are easy to ignore. A planner is harder to hide from.
When I open it midweek, I can see, in black and white and in my own writing, what I promised myself on Sunday. There is a kind of pressure in that. Not shame, just a little nudge: you said you wanted this.
By the end of the week, the pages tell a story:
- Boxes checked for movement.
- Three-at-a-time chores that kept things livable.
- Learning sessions squeezed into edges of the day.
For an ADHD brain where time blurs and days blend together, that story is grounding. It reminds me that I am not just reacting to life; I am participating in shaping it.
Ambition, But Measured
I still have big goals. I still like the idea of sweeping life changes and dramatic progress. That part of me is not going anywhere.
The difference now is that those big goals are anchored in something small and repeatable: one workout, three acts of basic care, five language touches a day.
The 1–3–5 rule does not make me a different person. It just gives the person I already am a structure she can actually keep up with.
One page at a time. One promise at a time. One small checked box that says, “Yes. I showed up.”
