Running two businesses should feel empowering, but for me it often feels like juggling glass balls while walking through fog. Each business has two or more linked email addresses, its own accounts, its own tools, and its own subscriptions. Many of those subscriptions overlap, so I move between them constantly, switching from one login to another, from one inbox to the next, from one dashboard to something that looks almost identical but isn’t. On a clear day, this is just part of the rhythm of my work, but on an increased cognitively impaired day, it becomes a labyrinth.
In recent months, that labyrinth has turned into something closer to a trap. I’ve found myself dealing with four different companies about subscriptions I either didn’t remember signing up for or no longer needed. Each time, the first hurdle was simply trying to work out which email address I had used. It sounds so small, but when your cognitive function is compromised, that single question, “which email did I use?”, can feel like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. Sometimes, Facebook sign ups are an option…did I use them?! Often, I have no idea.
Prime Minister Andy Burnham has spoken publicly about how difficult it can be to cancel subscriptions, and he’s absolutely right. Companies bury cancellation options, hide contact details, and design processes that seem intentionally confusing. But when you add cognitive impairment into the mix, those obstacles become mountainous. It’s not just that the cancellation button is hidden; it’s that your brain can’t hold the steps in place long enough to find it.
I’ve spent hours, literal hours, trying to untangle subscription messes. Hours I didn’t have, hours I should have spent working, resting, or simply living. Instead, I was stuck in loops: checking one email inbox, then another, then another; trying passwords I thought might be right; resetting passwords I didn’t remember creating; contacting customer support only to realise I’d used the wrong email entirely.
This isn’t just admin, it’s cognitive overload. It’s the mental equivalent of wading through mud.
Cognitive energy isn’t limitless, and when you burn through too much of it on something as draining as subscription admin, the consequences ripple far beyond the task itself. After hours of switching between emails, trying to remember passwords, retracing steps, and fighting through mental fog, my brain simply crashes. It’s not dramatic, it’s a slow collapse into exhaustion, confusion, and an inability to function properly for the rest of the day, sometimes even longer. These wider crashes affect everything: my work, my decision‑making, my ability to communicate, and even basic daily tasks. People often assume cognitive impairment is just about forgetfulness, but it’s so much more than that. It’s the way one difficult task can drain the entire system, leaving nothing in reserve for anything else.
Anyone who has ever filled out a DWP form knows the question: “Can you manage your own finances?”
It’s presented as if it’s straightforward, as if the answer should be obvious. But for people like me living with M.E, it’s anything but. Managing finances isn’t just about paying bills or checking your bank balance. It’s about remembering what you’ve signed up for, keeping track of renewal dates, spotting unexpected payments, and navigating cancellation processes that seem designed to confuse even the most organised person.
My recent subscription chaos is a perfect example of why the honest answer to that DWP question is complicated. On days when my cognitive impairment is bad, I cannot reliably manage my finances. I cannot keep track of which email I used, which subscription belongs to which business, or whether I’ve already cancelled something. I cannot hold the steps in my mind long enough to complete them, and I cannot trust my memory to tell me whether a payment is legitimate or a mistake.
This isn’t carelessness, it’s cognitive dysfunction, and it affects every part of financial management.
Planning, organising, remembering, and switching between tasks can become impossible during bad cognitive dysfunction days. When those functions falter, even simple admin becomes overwhelming. Add in multiple businesses, multiple emails, and companies that make cancellation deliberately difficult, and you have a perfect storm.
If you struggle with subscriptions because of cognitive impairment, you are not alone. You are not failing. You are navigating a world that expects perfect executive function and punishes anyone who doesn’t have it. The systems we’re forced to use assume clarity, consistency, and memory, three things that simply aren’t available to me every day.
After many hours of wrestling with logins, inboxes, customer portals, and my own dysfunctional brain, I finally have refunds on the way. That outcome didn’t happen because the process was easy; it happened because a handful of patient staff members took the time to help me untangle the mess. Their kindness and persistence made a difference, and I’m genuinely grateful for it. But gratitude doesn’t erase the bigger truth: this shouldn’t be so hard. No one should have to spend days trying to cancel something they barely remember signing up for. No one should have to justify their cognitive impairment to a system designed without them in mind, and no one should be made to feel incompetent for struggling with tasks that are, in reality, structurally inaccessible.
I’m sharing this not because I want sympathy, but because I want recognition, for myself, and for anyone else living with cognitive dysfunction. Our challenges with admin, finances, and subscriptions are real. They deserve to be understood, not dismissed, and the more we talk about them, the harder they become to ignore.
Love
Sally
and Foggy (OBVIOUSLY)