"Just five more minutes" and you stand up an hour and twenty later. You left on time and still arrived twenty minutes late, again. The deadline was three weeks out and stayed "three weeks out" until it became tomorrow.
This is not carelessness about the commitment. It is that time is not telling you anything.
Two tenses: now and not-now
People who live with this tend to describe time in two categories only. There is now, which is real, has texture and demands a response. And there is not-now, a blur containing Tuesday's dentist, next month's report and retirement — all equally far away.
That explains things that look contradictory. The same person who misses a two-week deadline delivers flawless work in four hours the night before: by then, the task moved from not-now into now. It also explains why "I will let you know next week" is a sincere promise and a terrible plan.
Why it costs more than it looks
Sensing time is not a detail: it is what makes planning possible. Estimating how long something takes, splitting a project into stages, feeling the window closing — all of it rests on some internal sense of duration.
Give time a body
The classic recommendation in executive function work is to externalise: if internal perception is weak, time has to become visible on the outside.
The gap that remains
Notice that nearly everything above depends on something putting the information in front of you at the moment it matters — not at the moment you had the good idea of getting organised.
A deadline written down is a deadline that went invisible again. For it to exist once more, something has to bring it back at the right time, and insist if you do not answer. That is the problem that made me build ASB.