From Accounts Receivable to Art: Why I Design at 5 PM (And Other Working Parent Realities)

"When do you find time to run a business?"

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me this question, I could probably fund my next marketing campaign. The answer isn't glamorous, and it definitely doesn't involve waking up at 4 AM for some mythical "miracle morning" routine that productivity gurus love to preach.

My creative time starts at 5 PM. Right after I log off from my full-time job as an Accounts Receivable Specialist, help my boys Mathew and Cameron with whatever crisis has emerged from their day, and take a moment to remember that I'm a human being with dreams beyond spreadsheets and payment reconciliations.

Let me paint you a picture of my typical day. I'm up early, getting two teenagers ready for school (which is like herding cats, but the cats have attitudes and need lunch money). Then it's off to my day job, where I spend eight hours dealing with numbers, invoices, and the occasional client who thinks their payment terms are more like "payment suggestions."

Here's where it gets interesting though - while I'm working through those spreadsheets, I've got my true crime podcasts going. And let me tell you, some of my best design ideas come from the most random moments. I'll be reconciling payments and suddenly hear something that sparks an idea, or my brain (thanks, ADHD) will make some weird connection that turns into a hilarious t-shirt concept. I've gotten really good at quickly jotting down notes on whatever scrap paper is nearby, because if I don't write it down immediately, it's gone forever.

By 5 PM, I'm mentally drained. My brain has been in analytical mode all day, and honestly, some days the last thing I want to do is switch gears and be creative. The anxiety and depression don't make this any easier - some days I'm motivated and ready to tackle the world, other days I'm just trying to get through without falling apart. But here's the thing - that's exactly when the magic happens.

There's something about that transition from work mode to creative mode that actually works for me. Maybe it's because I'm finally doing something that's 100% mine. Maybe it's because after dealing with other people's problems all day, I get to focus on my own vision. Or maybe it's just that my ADHD brain needs that complete shift to reset.

When I sit down at 5 PM to work on Cady Creations, I'm not the person who spent the day chasing down overdue payments. I'm the person who pulls out those random notes I scribbled during podcast breaks and turns them into designs that make me laugh. I'm the mom who gets inspired by her kids' ridiculous slang, or something I heard on a true crime podcast, or just the general chaos of trying to adult while managing anxiety and depression.

Let's be honest about what this actually looks like. Some days, I'm on fire at 5 PM - designing new collections, updating the website, writing product descriptions that capture exactly what I was thinking when I had that random inspiration moment. Other days, my mental health isn't cooperating, and I'm so fried that I can barely manage to respond to customer emails without making typos.

There are evenings when the boys need help with homework, or one of our many pets (yes, we have a small zoo) needs attention, or my husband wants to actually have a conversation with his wife. Sometimes dinner needs to happen, or the laundry has reached critical mass, or I just need to sit on the couch and watch Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy with my husband because my brain is done making decisions.

And lately? I've been completely hooked on Grey's Anatomy. I know, I know - I'm about 20 years late to that party, but I'm binging from the beginning and now I understand what all the fuss was about. Some nights, Meredith Grey wins over graphic design, and honestly, that's okay too.

Research shows that entrepreneurs who keep their day jobs have a 33% higher success rate than those who go all-in from day one. I used to think this was just about financial security (which, let's be real, is huge when you have a family and medical expenses). But now I realize it's about so much more.

My day job keeps me grounded in reality. It reminds me what it's like to be a regular person with regular problems - which happens to be exactly who my customers are. When I'm designing something sassy about managing chaos, I'm drawing from real experience juggling spreadsheets, family drama, and my own mental health struggles.

The constraint of limited time also forces me to be more focused. I can't spend three hours perfecting one design because I literally don't have three hours. I have to trust my instincts, make decisions quickly, and move forward. Sometimes this leads to my best work - especially when I'm working from one of those random inspiration notes I wrote during a podcast break.

Living with ADHD, anxiety, and depression while trying to run a business is... a lot. Some days my brain is firing on all cylinders, making connections between random podcast moments and design concepts that somehow work perfectly. Other days, I can't focus long enough to finish updating a single product listing.

But here's what I've learned - that same brain that makes it hard to focus sometimes is also the one that comes up with the most authentic, relatable designs. The anxiety that makes me overthink everything also helps me anticipate what my customers might be feeling. The depression that makes some days harder also gives me a dark sense of humor that translates into designs people actually connect with.

I'd be lying if I said I don't feel guilty sometimes. Guilty that I'm not giving 100% to my business. Guilty that I'm thinking about design ideas during my day job (sorry, boss, but also not sorry because those podcast-inspired moments are gold). Guilty that I'm working on the business when I could be spending more time with my family or taking better care of my mental health.

But then I remember that I'm modeling something important for my boys. I'm showing them that you don't have to choose between security and dreams. You can be responsible AND pursue your passions. You can work within your constraints - whether they're time, energy, or mental health related - and still build something meaningful.

The funny thing about designing at 5 PM is that I'm not alone. My social media feeds are full of other working parents who are grinding after hours. We're the ones posting design updates at 6 PM, responding to customer messages during lunch breaks, and celebrating small wins at weird hours because that's when we're actually online.

We understand each other's struggles. We get why sometimes it takes two days to respond to an email (hello, depression fog), or why a product launch gets delayed because life happened, or why we have random bursts of creativity followed by days of radio silence. We're building businesses around the edges of our "real" lives, and somehow that makes it more authentic.

Every design I create at 5 PM comes from a place of genuine experience. Those notes I scribble during podcast breaks turn into designs about processing chaos, managing mental health, or just finding humor in the struggle. My customers aren't buying from some polished entrepreneur who has it all figured out. They're buying from someone who gets it - someone who's also trying to make it work with limited time, energy, and brain chemistry that doesn't always cooperate.

The authenticity shows up in everything - from designs inspired by random true crime podcast moments to collections that honestly address anxiety and depression with humor instead of toxic positivity.

Success for me isn't about hitting some arbitrary revenue goal or working 80-hour weeks (which would literally break me). It's about creating something I'm proud of while still being present for my family and managing my mental health. It's about proving that you can build a business that aligns with your values, your reality, and your brain chemistry.

Some days, success is turning three random podcast-inspired notes into actual designs between 5 and 7 PM. Other days, it's just responding to customer emails and updating inventory. And some days, success is recognizing that I need to close the laptop, take a breather, and binge Grey's Anatomy because that's what my mental health needs.

If you're reading this while stealing a few minutes during your lunch break, or after you've finally gotten the kids settled, or during that precious window between dinner and your evening TV shows - I see you. Your timeline doesn't have to look like anyone else's, and your brain doesn't have to work like anyone else's either.

Your business doesn't have to fit into someone else's definition of hustle culture. You don't have to wake up at 4 AM or work 16-hour days to be "serious" about your dreams. You just have to show up consistently, even if that's only for an hour or two at a time, even if some days your mental health makes that harder than others.

Keep those random inspiration notes coming. Keep designing at 5 PM, or 9 PM, or whenever you can carve out those precious moments between managing life and managing your brain. Your authentic voice and genuine experience - including the messy, complicated parts - are exactly what your customers are looking for.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's 5 PM, I've got some notes from today's podcast to turn into designs, and then Meredith Grey is calling my name.