People love to romanticize ADHD hyperfocus.

“Oh, you can focus for hours when you’re interested? That must be amazing!”

“It’s like a superpower, right?”

No, it really isn’t.

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It’s easy to understand why. When we come out of it, we’ve usually learned and absorbed more information and knowledge than some might in… well, a lot longer. Because a hyperfocus can last for varying amounts of time. A few hours, days, even a week or more. But when we come out of them, or when we are in them, it ain’t all fun.

The Ride of Your Life

Imagine this for a moment. You’re riding a beautiful, powerful, but thirsty horse called Focus. You’re on the trail you take it regularly, and you’re thinking about the best way to get to your destination today. Different paths appear, you’re looking down one trail, then cutting back to another, talking with Focus and seeing if anything captures the horse’s attention. But nada. You’re changing directions, swapping routes, trying to make progress...

And suddenly you see Focus’ ears swivel, head turn, a hoof paws – nostrils flare. Next thing you know you’re barrelling down a trail, crashing through the undergrowth, ducking branches, fingers tangled in a mane whipping your face. The thrill of the ride is amazing, and the hazards blur into non-existence.

There’s no time to think about or do anything other than hang on. It’s exhilarating! You are oblivious to time… and then suddenly?

You’re airborne then crashing to the ground. Completely unexpectedly. You eventually come to, pick yourself up, dazed, disoriented and more than a bit achy. Looking around you slowly become aware of the world, and a large barrel of water. Grazing nonchalantly is Focus, having drunk from the barrel, reins trailing on the ground… you still have no idea where you are, or what time it is.

That’s what getting into and out of hyperfocus is like. It ain’t no picnic!

What hyperfocus actually is

Hyperfocus is when our brain finally, FINALLY finds something that provides enough dopamine stimulation that we lock onto it completely. And I mean completely.

Hours pass. We forget to eat. We forget to drink water. We forget we have a body that needs things. We forget about the meeting we were supposed to join. We forget our partner asked us to pick something up, or the kids that need to be collected. We forget time exists.

And next thing we’re aware of is we’ve learned an entire new skill like crocheting, or deep-dived into the history of ‘big data’, or finished creating a new course in one marathon session, and it’s 3 a.m...

Wait, what were we supposed to be doing today?

The Brain Science Bit (The “Dopamine Gap”)

Everyone’s brain is creating dopamine. It’s the chemical that creates a feeling of pleasure, a sense of reward, focus, and satisfaction. As this Harvard Health article notes:

“Dopamine is a natural chemical messenger in your brain that helps you feel pleasure. Think of it as a ‘reward signal.’ ... Beyond just feeling good, it also helps you focus... If you have too little, you might feel tired or unmotivated…”

And this is where a neurodivergent brain diverges. We’re short-changed. It’s called the ‘Dopamine Gap.’ Our brains either don’t create dopamine as readily, or we need a much higher level of stimulation to feel that same level of pleasure or reward.

Why the Horse Chooses the Trail: The I.N.C.U.P. Framework

While a neurotypical person can focus on something because it is “Important,” our brains don’t have that setting. We operate on an Interest-Based Nervous System. For the “horse” to bolt, the task usually has to meet one of these criteria:

• Interest (Is it fascinating?)

• Novelty (Is it brand new?)

• Challenge (Is it a puzzle to solve?)

• Urgency (Is the deadline five minutes away?)

• Passion (Is it a deep soul-level connection?)

If it’s not INCUP, the horse just stands there. If it is? Dopamine City.

The “No Middle Gear” Problem

A big reason hyperfocus is so jarring is that the ADHD brain lacks a “middle gear.” Most people can cruise at 50 mph—doing dishes, answering emails, staying present.

We are either at 0 mph (stuck in ADHD paralysis, wanting to move but unable to start) or 100 mph (hyperfocus). There is no “cruising.” There is only “Off” or “Turbine Engine.” This is also the situation with Emotional Regulation—we often operate with an On/Off switch instead of a dial.

It’s Not a Choice

One thing neurotypical people don’t understand: we can’t aim hyperfocus. There’s no steering wheel. We can’t decide “today I will hyperfocus on this important work task” and make it happen. Believe me, we wish we could!

The direction of our focus is based on dopamine, not logic. If our brain finds something intriguing, Focus has just picked up the scent of water! Sometimes it lands on something useful, like a copywriter finishing a week’s worth of work in an afternoon.

But sometimes it lands on researching the complete history of crocheting at 2 a.m. when we have a presentation on the company’s budgetary forecasts due in the morning. We’re completely oblivious to everything else, until we’re airborne and wondering where we are. And then the ‘U’ of I.N.C.U.P. kicks in – Urgency – and we are madly prepping the presentation!

The Aftermath is Brutal

Coming out of hyperfocus is disorienting.

What time is it? When did I last eat? Why does my back hurt?

And then the Shame Spiral hits.

“I spent six hours organizing my digital photos when I should have been working.”

“I deep-cleaned the bathroom at midnight instead of sleeping.”

“I can hyperfocus on a video game for eight hours but I can’t focus on my kid’s homework for twenty minutes.”

It proves what we’ve always feared—we CAN focus, we’re just choosing the wrong things. Except we’re not choosing. That’s the part people don’t get.

It makes us look even more broken

“You can focus for six hours on THAT but you can’t focus for ten minutes on THIS?”

Yes. Exactly. That’s ADHD.

Do you honestly think we want to skip the financials to become the world’s expert on the best way to stack timber to ensure it dries for a wood-burner? Do you think we’re choosing to know which wood-burner is better in what size spaces instead of doing our taxes?

Our brains aren’t wired to respond to “should.” They’re wired to respond to “dopamine.”

The Interruption Cost is High

When someone interrupts hyperfocus, it can feel physically painful. Like being hit by a steam train at full speed.

Because our brains have FINALLY found focus, FINALLY found that dopamine source, and then it’s gone. And we might not be able to get it back. The engine is derailed, the window is closed, and we have to face the reality of what’s happened while we’ve been shovelling coal… and it’s often not pretty.

This is why we get snappy. It’s not that we don’t care about the person interrupting. It’s that we just lost the only thing keeping our brain regulated.

What Actually Helps

Here are some ideas to consider:

1. Set up external interruptions: Alarms. Timers. Someone who will physically check on you. Internal awareness disappears in hyperfocus.

2. Transition Warnings: If you’re supporting someone, give them a heads-up. “I need you in 10 minutes.” Give the “horse” time to slow down so the rider doesn’t fly off.

3. Basic needs checklist: Before or during (when you can), set up: water bottle, snacks, bathroom break. Reduce the damage.

4. Forgive yourself for the misses: The times hyperfocus lands on the wrong thing aren’t moral failures. They’re neurology.

5. Accountability partner: Someone who can text “have you eaten?” or “are you still working on that?” without judgment.

The Bottom Line

Hyperfocus isn’t a superpower. It’s our dopamine-starved brains finally finding something stimulating enough to lock onto, and refusing to let go until it’s done.

Sometimes that’s productive. Often it’s not. Always it’s exhausting. We’re not choosing to focus six hours on the wrong thing; our brains are making that choice based on dopamine, not logic.

So next time you see someone with ADHD hyperfocused on something “unimportant,” remember: they’re not choosing this. They’re riding the horse wherever it takes them, hoping it lands somewhere useful.

And yes, we’re just as frustrated about it as you are.

Thanks for reading Cate’s Modern Midlife Crisis! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Buy Me A Coffee!

My ADHD Short Series

Here’s what’s still coming, in no particular order:

1. We’re not lazy, our brains just work differently (Executive dysfunction explained)

2. Time isn’t real for us (Why we struggle with lateness and it’s not about you, it’s time blindness)

3. Hyperfocus isn’t a superpower we control (It’s a mode our brain enters…)

4. We feel emotions at full volume (Where the dial is not broken, it’s non-existent)

5. Our sense of justice is debilitating (Why we can’t just “let it go”, no seriously, we can’t!)

6. RSD is crippling our self-worth (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria explained)

7. We’re not bad at listening (We’re hearing things either superfast, or not at all)

8. Routine is hard, but chaos is harder (The structure paradox)

9. We already feel like we’re failing (All. The. Time.)

10. Some of us live our whole life believing we’re broken (We simply don’t have that ‘off’ switch…)

Article 8 in the series I promised, read on and try to understand why we can’t win!

Here’s yet another paradox that is a part of ADHD: we need structure, but we struggle to create it, and also fight tooth and nail against it.

We can feel a sense of comfort when things are predictable, or in places we left them. Those places might look like piles of chaos to everyone but us, but we know where we left that paper, or scarf, or photo, or notebook…

You know, the floordrobe—that pile of clothes on the floor that’s actually a perfectly organized system... to us. And of course the chairdrobe with the “not dirty, wearable, but not clean enough for the wardrobe” items.

Then we also feel incredibly inadequate when it comes to creating a structure that meets neurotypical standards. We can have brilliant ideas and start them, our ‘squirrels’ building an amazing, world-changing program at 2am, only to wake up feeling like it’s all too much and needing someone to help us back into that routine… eventually.

And yet we can quickly swing to boredom, frustration and a desire to break out of that structure, our minds seeking to improve and innovate. Get a buzz from making it better!

And I think there’s a reason for this that links to paralysis by analysis. But more on that in a minute.

Sidenote: please don’t shoot the messenger

Having been doing a lot of deep diving into the brain wiring with the misnomer ADHD, and in the process of writing this series, I’ve made my own assessment of the various components of ADHD, and how they’re not ‘broken’ or ‘bad’ ways of being—they’re just combinations that indicate our wiring is simply different.

And please understand this assessment, and the information in these articles, is ever-evolving, shifting and growing as I learn more, hear more stories from others, and connect more dots within my own archive of life.

My favourite analogy has become that we, and our different operating systems, are the dolphins living in a society created and managed by monkeys, and being judged for how well we climb a tree. Or peel a banana.

Back to structure v chaos!

I know I love the incredible aesthetics, organized design and flow of a Japanese garden, but also feel a sense of freedom when seeing meadows of wildflowers scattered across the landscape, or the natural beauty of the earth’s crust massaged into twists and swirls, stunning in all its amazing, jumbled glory. (See where that sentence went? Structure to chaos)

To create the structure and design of something like a Japanese garden takes discipline, following a precise plan, and following through with meticulous attention to detail.

Herein lies the problem.

Unless we’re obsessed or hyperfocused on Japanese garden formation, our wiring starts to struggle with the alternatives, and the timeframe. We begin to see so many options, directions and possibilities, and this can eventually lead us to paralysis by analysis.

And that’s what I feel links directly into our executive function challenges. The ‘structure’ becomes too restrictive (read ‘boring’ to our brain) and we need a dopamine hit, so instead of pressing on we grab a bunch of sweet peas and inhale deeply, or we ‘Alt+Tab’ to another open tab of pics of Japanese gardens that includes some of a sakura festival, then a sunset… ‘Alt+Tab’ to our email account and see something else we were working on... And in the blink of an eye we’ve skipped from coordinated building to chaotic bliss.

Why we need routines

We know routines help. We’ve read all the books. We’ve tried all the systems. We’ve worked on the habit stacking, and we begin to maybe get stuff done. Or at least remember to clean our teeth!

Personally I find routines that involve other people (like going to a work place, or a regular meeting call) are easier to maintain. The dependence of others on me getting something done helps with that ‘sense of urgency’ most of the time. Especially if it’s something I enjoy, or people I like.

Without structure we’re lost.

We forget to eat and drink. We forget appointments. We lose track of time. And we can’t get things done because we can’t decide where to start or in what order.

Routines help us:

• Remember the basics (hygiene, meals, sleep)

• Build momentum (once we start we keep going, for me moreso with a team to keep us on track)

• Reduce decision fatigue (one less thing to figure out)

• Provide external structure our minds can’t generate internally

We know this. We understand this. We want this. But we fight it. Because within the structure and routines we begin to feel limited, restricted, confined.

Why routines fail for us

After a while a routine loses its novelty, becomes boring, and our wiring just... diverts. Another squirrelly thought, idea, or brilliant concept distracts us, and next thing we know there’s good ol’ ‘hyperfocus’ sending us down that rabbit hole, time blindness blindsiding us, and realization we’ve missed a call, causing off-the-chart distress.

Routine works for us for a while, maybe even a few weeks if we’re really lucky. And if there’s real pressure to achieve a milestone, then even a few months—but it really needs to be a HUGE goal/deadline/milestone.

Eventually though our minds notice it’s the same thing every day. Same morning routine. Same work process. Same evening wind-down. And while this might work for the duration of a project, eventually our wiring, where dopamine is differently managed, goes “nope, this is boring now” and sends us out for a dopamine infusion.

It’s not defiance. It’s not lack of discipline. It’s boredom intolerance caused by how our physiology manages brain chemicals.

Our wiring literally cannot tolerate doing the same thing the same way over and over, even when it’s WORKING. Even when we KNOW it helps. And it must help, mustn’t it? It helps… everyone else.

The switching cost

We’re constantly switching systems, trying to find the one that will finally stick. The perfect planner. The advanced app. The marvellous morning routine.

Because that’s what we’ve been told we must do - after all it’s what everyone else does. Works for them, right?

But the problem isn’t the system that works for everyone else, the habits, the routines, the regularity. It’s that this system, routine, habits don’t work for us. For our need for novelty, for ‘new’.

So in trying to fit in we end up with:

• Seven different planners, all partially used

• A dozen productivity apps on free trials we will forget to cancel

• A floordrobe with perfectly jumbled piles of clothes, and empty drawers

Chaos is worse though

Without any structure, things tend to fall apart.

We forget to set alarms and there goes the day’s start. We forget meals. We miss appointments. Important (boring/repetitive) tasks don’t get done because we keep putting them off until ‘later’, and ‘later’ comes suddenly at 2am or not at all, or we’re staring at the wall, paralysed about getting them done.

Which reminds me, I must mop the floor… but first I have to vacuum and sweep and find the dustpan… is it under the pile of clothes in the laundry… must put the washing machine on… oh, need to clean the dog’s bowl… it’s time to take the dog for a walk… should load the dishwasher first so it can be on while we’re walking…

The lack of routine creates chaos. And chaos is exhausting and overwhelming.

So we’re stuck between structure that eventually becomes intolerable and chaos that’s immediately overwhelming.

It’s a tightrope walk. Every single day.

What actually helps

1. Flexible routines Instead of “7 a.m.: feed the cats, coffee, breakfast, shower” try things like “this morning: feed the cats (because hey, that’s set in stone!) the next three in whatever order works for today.”

2. Rotate systems Have 2-3 different planning methods and rotate between them. When one gets boring, switch to another.

3. Build in novelty Change small things regularly. Try different playlists for morning routines. Maybe a different mug for coffee, or try a different coffee. Alternate the route for walks. Have multiple toothbrushes to choose from! The novelty helps.

Image by Hans from Pixabay/ andreas160578 from Pixabay

4. Habit stacking, not scheduling “After I finish coffee, I...” helps me recall things I might otherwise forget, instead of “at 8 a.m., I...” Links actions to actions, not to time.

5. Accept the resets You’ll fall off routines without a doubt. That’s not failure. That’s simply wiring. Be kind to yourself, and start again without shame.

6. External accountability Body doubling, check-ins, shared calendars can all help. A friend who understands and can provide that bit of structure when yours isn’t quite there.

7. Set reminders One of the great benefits of a mobile phone is having multiple alarms. A report needs to be in at 5pm every day? Set a reminder for 4:45pm ‘Finalise daily report.’

For people supporting someone with ADHD

When your ADHD person get out of routine:

Don’t:

• Lecture about consistency

• Point out that it was working

• Suggest they just need more discipline

• Compare them to neurotypical people who “just do it”

• Get frustrated (they will know it)

Do:

• Understand their wiring is different - needs ‘newness’, challenges, to function

• Help them build flexibility or novelty into routines (like the multiple coloured toothbrushes!)

• Offer a gentle reminder when they’ve forgotten something

• Recognise this is neurology, not intentional or done to annoy you

The bottom line

We’re trapped between wanting structure and needing novelty.

Routines help us function. Until they don’t. And then chaos overwhelms us. Until we build new structure. Which works. Until it doesn’t.

I remember when I dropped the ball regularly, and I would beat myself up over it. My brain would be speeding down the ‘why am I so stupid?!’ highway, looking for reasons and ways to avoid doing this, and then trying to explain to others who simply didn’t care why.

We’re still trying to fit into this monkey world. It’s challenging and exhausting. It looks like we can’t finish anything. Like we lack discipline or follow-through.

But we’re not flaky. We’re not undisciplined. We’re not choosing this. We’re trying to tail-walk without the water.

We’re functioning with a different operating system. Trying to build structure with minds that are wired to seek change. Trying to maintain routines with wiring that literally seeks out the differences, identifies the shifts, tests if it’s OK. Trying to fit into a world designed for different operating systems.

It’s not a character flaw. It’s a neurological reality.

And we’re doing our best to walk that tightrope between structure and novelty, every single day.

Thanks for reading Cate’s Modern Midlife Crisis! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Subscribe now

Buy Me A Coffee!

My ADHD Short Series

Here’s what’s still coming, in no particular order:

1. We’re not lazy, our brains just work differently (Executive dysfunction explained)

2. Time isn’t real for us (Why we struggle with lateness and it’s not about you, it’s time blindness)

3. Hyperfocus isn’t a superpower we control (It’s a mode our brain enters…)

4. We feel emotions at full volume (Where the dial is not broken, it’s non-existent)

5. Our sense of justice is debilitating (Why we can’t just “let it go”, no seriously, we can’t!)

6. RSD is crippling our self-worth (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria explained)

7. We’re not bad at listening (We’re hearing things either superfast, or not at all)

8. Routine is hard, but chaos is harder (The structure paradox)

9. We already feel like we’re failing (All. The. Time.)

10. Some of us live our whole life believing we’re broken (We simply don’t have that ‘off’ switch…)

Article 6 in the series I promised, read on and try to understand why the pain!

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. RSD.

I decided this is the appropriate follow-on to Article No. 4 on Emotional Dysregulation, or the challenges we face with it.

If you don’t have ‘ADHD’ wiring, you might not have heard of RSD.

If you do have ‘ADHD’ wiring and have read up on it, you’ve probably already cringed inside, feeling that familiar punch in the gut just reading those three words.

And if you haven’t a clue? Get ready to have your world turned sideways.

First up, let me explain what RSD is, and what it actually feels like to live with.

It’s not just “being too sensitive”

RSD is an intense emotional reaction to a response (or sometimes a lack of one!) that leaves us feeling anything from intense self-doubt, to rejection, to abject failure and anxiety. And sometimes intense hurt and anger.

We don’t just experience rejection or criticism as a feeling. We experience it as real, physical and emotional pain.

It’s not “ouch, that stung a bit.” (Because seriously, did you read Article No. 4 – Emotional Dysregulation? No dial, just an on/off switch. We simply can’t do ‘a bit’ when it comes to emotions.) It really hurts.

It’s a neurological response that hits us like a freight train. Right through the gut for me. If you’re reading this and know what I’m talking about, let me know where it hits you.

Common signs of RSD include:

• Intense emotional spirals: Sudden, extreme sadness or “shame spirals” that can last for hours or even days (you just want to hide)

• Externalized rage: Sometimes the pain is so sharp it turns outward as sudden anger or lashing out, (making barbed comments is one I know I do!)

• People-pleasing: Going to extreme lengths to avoid any possibility of rejection or disapproval, even if it means going against your own self. This one is tough, but so common in women

• Becoming the “Perfectionist” or “Quitter”: Some become high-achieving perfectionists to avoid criticism, while others give up entirely to eliminate the risk of failure, because if you’re not even in the race, you can’t lose, right?

• Social withdrawal: Avoiding interactions because the risk of rejection feels too painful to bear

When you don’t know what you have…

I’ve lived my entire life not having a clue I have this wiring called ADHD. And I’d never heard of RSD. Or emotional regulation.

And you want to know the worst part? Having now discovered what I have, I now know I’ve damaged friendships and work relationships with colleagues because of it, and they would have no clue why I behaved like that, except, you know, that I’m the worst. Which I was at times. Retrospect can be so painful once you begin to understand what’s going on in your head, and how that’s affected your behaviours and actions.

Until we KNOW about RSD, we have no idea we’re being irrational, especially in other people’s eyes. We can’t see ourselves spiraling. We just believe that everyone hates us and doesn’t want us around.

But here’s the even worse part: knowing about it doesn’t stop it from happening.

What it looks like: A story that still haunts me

Here’s an example I constantly replay in my mind.

A few years ago a colleague was talking about a conversation at an impromptu social gathering after a shift.

My mind immediately went: “Great! Uh… why wasn’t I invited?”

Then quickly to: “Of course you’re not invited, they don’t want you there!”

And I lashed out. Made a curt response aimed at hurting them for not including me.

Completely uncalled for. Definitely unwarranted. But without the ability to manage emotional regulation and feeling that deep wound? I struck back with that sharpened barb.

And I’m still cringing about it right now, as I write this. I can see the expression on my colleague’s face. And I am ashamed, still.

What triggers RSD (spoiler: everything)

Given the multitude of ways we communicate these days, there are so many instances we experience this freight train of rejection:

• Your neutral tone in that text message? We’ve analysed it and decided you’re fed up and looking for ways to end the communication.

• You didn’t respond to our message? Obviously you’re avoiding even talking to us. After all, why would you even want to?

• You gave us constructive feedback? We heard “you got it wrong again, why can’t you just get it right, you’re a failure. Oh, and everyone else thinks this too.”

• You seemed distracted when we were talking? You’re completely bored and looking for a way out. (Though this can be true when we’re on a rant about justice sensitivity or in hyperfocus—sorry for those times! Still learning to rein those in!)

• You cancelled plans? We’re too much, too annoying, too exhausting, and you finally realised it and found a way out.

• You dismissed what we proposed for a project? We did a deep-dive to check we were getting it right, and you simply dismissed it without knowing that. So now we believe we’re completely useless and unsuited to the role and should quit to save you the embarrassment of figuring out with HR how to fire us.

See how this works? Our brain can turn EVERYTHING into evidence that we’re not enough, just like we’ve been told all our lives. It proves we’re screwed up, simply confirming what we’ve been told to our face thousands of times since we were kids.

The invisible agony… and late-night replays

What you also don’t see is what’s happening inside our heads. And that isn’t pretty.

So often we lash out, like I did with my colleague. But other times it’s the opposite. We expend so much energy trying to hide this pain—especially when we’re completely clueless as to what’s happening—that we end up overdoing it the other way.

Trying too hard to be friends and be included.

Trying to fit in and seem normal.

Trying to think of the funny thing to say, or the inspiring suggestion, or simply trying not to be the one left out, ‘the odd one,’ which is what we feel everyone thinks of us anyway.

And then there are the replays.

That incident with my colleague? It STILL runs through my mind. And not just that one. Others too, with different people, different situations. Sometimes years later.

You know what happens when trying to go to sleep? We often end up with a replay of different social interactions we’ve had, from just that day to recently, to days, weeks, months… sometimes years ago. At least it is for me. I still shudder at things I said years ago. That person probably forgot I even exist.

Also? When we mull over it we come up with better responses, sometimes days later. Better ways we should have acted. Better versions of ourselves that neurotypical people seem to be naturally.

EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

Why we’re people-pleasers… or hermits

RSD often turns us into people-pleasers who exhaust ourselves trying to avoid any possibility of rejection.

We overcompensate. We say yes when we mean no. We smile and listen as others talk about a great outing they had together, while we shrink ourselves to take up less space and try to not show the devastation we’re feeling inside because we weren’t included.

We become hypervigilant, constantly scanning for signs of disapproval. We edit ourselves mid-sentence. We rehearse conversations before they happen. We apologise for being here.

And then there’s the other extreme. We become hermits.

Basically, if we don’t interact with people, we can’t be rejected by them. It’s safer to be alone than to risk that emotional devastation again. And in this day and age, where neighbours who’ve lived beside each other for years may never have even met, it’s far more common than you might think!

Neither approach is healthy. Both are survival strategies.

If you have RSD: How to cope with it

When I’m having an RSD episode, it can take a moment or three to recognise it. I am getting better at it, but hey, takes a while to rebuild and redirect those neural pathways. Here are a couple of suggestions that I’m working on that might help you, if you have RSD, and know it. Needless to say it won’t take away the immediate reaction, but it might help manage the actions and responses:

“Check in first” When you feel the punch in the gut, or however you recognise it, pause for a moment, take a deep breath, hold for a moment, then and as you slowly exhale ask yourself: “Am I sure… Is there real evidence they are rejecting me, or is my RSD firing the wiring right now?”

The 24-Hour Rule If you feel the urge to send an angry text or quit a job during an RSD episode, again, take a breath, and wait 24 hours. No, not to exhale, you can do that slowly, but wait 24 hours before sending, or announcing you’re going to quit. The intensity of RSD is high but can dissipate with time in these circumstances; your perspective might shift once the pain subsides, and we want to avoid those regretful knee jerk reactions we then dwell on ad infinitum!

Create a ‘Wins Journal’ For some it can help to keep a record of positive feedback and accomplishments. The times someone has given you great feedback, and you know you did a good job. I forget these times when RSD tells me I’m a failure so it can help to remind myself this moment isn’t an absolute.

Create a “Comfort Kit” This isn’t something I’ve done, with the physical, but I know some others who’ve found this helpful. They use sensory tools to ground themselves during a spiral, for example noise-cancelling headphones and specific music can help calm the nervous system.

For people supporting someone with RSD

If you’re supporting someone with RSD, clarity and compassion is the best gift you can give. Closely followed by reassurance.

Be explicit: Instead of saying “We need to talk,” say “We need to talk about the grocery list; can you help me with it?”

Validate, don’t dismiss: Avoid saying “You’re overreacting.” Instead, say “I can see you’re hurting right now, and I’m here for you.”

Direct communication: “I’m not upset, just tired” goes a long way.

Reassurance without judgment: “You did good,” can stop a spiral.

We don’t choose to spiral. It’s RSD. And it’s hell.

The bottom line

RSD is invisible to everyone except the person experiencing it.

You see someone who seems fine, maybe a bit sensitive, maybe a bit brusque, maybe a bit anxious.

We feel like we’re constantly on the edge of exclusion, reading rejection into everything, convinced everyone secretly hates us, or is simply unaware of our existence when we’re not around, you know the old saying, “out of sight, out of mind.”?

It’s exhausting. It’s painful. And it’s one of the most misunderstood parts of ADHD.

So next time your ADHD friend is spiraling over something that seems minor, remember: their brain is telling them it’s catastrophic. And to them, in that moment, it is.

We’re not being dramatic. We’re drowning. And we could really use a life raft, not a lecture about perspective. And another rejection.

Buy Me A Coffee!

My ADHD Short Series

Here’s what’s still coming, in no particular order:

1. We’re not lazy, our brains just work differently (Executive dysfunction explained)

2. Time isn’t real for us (Why we struggle with lateness and it’s not about you, it’s time blindness)

3. Hyperfocus isn’t a superpower we control (It’s a mode our brain enters…)

4. We feel emotions at full volume (Where the dial is not broken, it’s non-existent)

5. Our sense of justice is debilitating (Why we can’t just “let it go”, no seriously, we can’t!)

6. RSD is crippling our self-worth (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria explained)

7. We’re not bad at listening (We’re hearing things either superfast, or not at all)

8. Routine is hard, but chaos is harder (The structure paradox)

9. We already feel like we’re failing (All. The. Time.)

10. Some of us live our whole life believing we’re broken (We simply don’t have that ‘off’ switch…)

Article 4 in the series I promised, read on and try to understand why the delay!

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ADHD – Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder – is turning out to be one of the greatest misnomers of medical science, in my humble opinion.

Because it isn’t just about attention. Far from it. It’s also our emotions. And when I say emotions, I don’t mean us being “a bit more sensitive than average.”

I mean we feel everything at maximum volume, straight up, and there’s no way to modulate it.

The volume dial was never installed

Neurotypical people seem to have this internal dial that matches emotional responses to situations.

Minor disappointment? They feel mildly disappointed.

Big achievement? Appropriately happy, excited even.

But we don’t have that dial. We only have a switch and it’s either on or off. Everything is 0 or 100. There’s no in-between.

“In the last 15 years or so, we’ve come to realize that emotion dysregulation is a key component of ADHD,” said Paul Rosen, PhD, a clinical psychologist and ADHD researcher (APA.org)

What this actually looks like

Firstly, what is emotional dysregulation? Basically:

1. Feeling overwhelmed by everyday stress

2. Reacting impulsively to small triggers

3. Taking longer to calm down after getting upset

4. Shifting quickly from sadness or worry to anger

We feel like we’re riding a never ending wave of emotions. And this wave can crash down and wreck relationships, destroy our self-esteem, and frustrate the hell out of everyone around us.

One mistake can ruin us. We’ll replay it over and over, spiraling into self-doubt, wondering what else we got wrong, or will do wrong. (And believe that everyone knows and thinks we’re an idiot!)

One kind word? Can end up with us blinking back tears of happiness. Right there, wherever we are.

A beautiful piece of music? Or song? Or advert?? Good chance of us choking up, right in the cereal aisle of the supermarket. Or worst still, the checkout. No warning.

And if someone cancels plans? We can go from extreme relief (read ‘Time Blindness’) to not just disappointment, but rejection, they can’t stand us, and it’s proof we’re too much (see upcoming Article No. 6 on RSD).

Excitement? Talking fast, can’t sit still, potential squealing.

Then something goes wrong and we crash. Hard. Joy to devastation in seconds.

Why this happens

Here’s what’s actually happening. Emotional regulation is an executive function that takes place in the prefrontal cortex. (See Article No. 1 on executive dysfunction.) This means:

• Our emotional response flares to full volume before the “wait, should I say this?” part catches up

• Even if we know the coping strategy, we can’t always access it in the moment

The brain structure behind this:

The prefrontal cortex (brake system) is underactive. The amygdala (alarm system/guardian/protector) is overactive, firing faster at perceived threats.

Hair-trigger alarm + weak brakes = emotional response surges before regulation gets even a look in.

As mentioned in another article, renowned ADHD specialist Dr. Ned Hallowell describes it as “having a Ferrari brain with bicycle brakes.” Nowhere is that more true than with emotions—powerful, fast, intense feelings with completely ineffective brakes that can’t keep up.

Plus our high sensory sensitivity (Article No. 10) magnifies everything. Neutral faces look judgmental. Normal feedback feels like rejection. Our brains identify threats, where everyone else simply sees… Thursdays.

I’m not proud of every emotional reaction I’ve had. I still cringe when I recall some from years ago! But at least now I’m beginning to understand. My brain experiences emotions at full volume with no ability to modulate. It explains why I’ve reacted the way I have, and how “just calm down” has never worked, just made things worse. And I’m not making excuses, just identifying what has taken place.

And it’s exhausting for everyone

This emotional rollercoaster exhausts us.

It also exhausts the people around us.

They can’t understand why we “overreact” to things. Why we can’t “calm down” or “let it go”. Or why we take things so personally. I wish I had a dollar for every time someone had said that to me… “don’t take it so personally!” I couldn’t see how not to.

We’re not being dramatic. We’re not choosing this.

Dr. Russell Barkley calls it emotional dysregulation—our brains struggle to modulate emotional responses to match the situation.

The shame spiral

We know we’re seen as “overreacting”, we’re told it all the time. We can see ourselves spiraling and we’re told “get over it, it’s not that big a deal”.

But that simply does nothing. The emotion floods through us, overwhelming our ability to cope, and then we add shame. Shame for being too sensitive. Too emotional. Too much.

“Why can’t I be normal about this?”

“Other people don’t fall apart over small things.”

“I’m too much. It’s so embarrassing to be around me. Everyone thinks I’m ridiculous!”

The shame becomes another overwhelming emotion. And we’re not managing any of it well. At all!

Why we avoid things

Sometimes the emotional intensity makes us avoid situations entirely.

Difficult conversations? Too risky.

Social events? What if we say the wrong thing? Or spiral??

New things? The fear of failure plus the devastating emotions keeps us paralysed.

We’re not cowards. We’re protecting ourselves from emotional experiences our brains can’t regulate. We’ve been doing this our whole lives—especially those of us who went undiagnosed until late in life.

The connection to other traits

Emotional dysregulation is tied to so much:

• RSD (Article No. 6 coming up soon): Rejection at catastrophic levels we can’t regulate

• Justice sensitivity (Article No. 5): We FEEL injustice physically, painfully, overwhelmingly!

• Impulsivity: Emotions hit fast, we react before we get a chance to even think

• Time blindness: Emotions feel permanent. Yes, they we know they pass, but during it? It’s overwhelming and feels endless.

  

What can help…

1. Be aware, and recognise it’s happening if possible “I’m having a big emotional reaction” creates space between feeling and action. Again, if possible!

2. Don’t add shame “This is my brain wiring” not “I’m a screw-up”.

3. Time and space If possible step away until the flood recedes. The challenge is returning if we’ve said or done something in the heat of the moment.

4. Physical regulation Movement can help. Standing up, walking, pacing. Stimming. I found that moving a ring around my finger helped me at times as our body can help to regulate when our brains are struggling.

5. Talk it through (sometimes) With people who won’t judge or minimise.

6. It’s hard, but remember it will pass The intensity feels permanent. It’s not.

For people supporting us

Never say:

• “You’re overreacting”

• “It’s not that big a deal”

• “Calm down”

Try instead:

• “It looks like this hit really hard”

• “What do you need?”

• “It’s okay, let’s figure this out.”

• Or simply just be present, no judgment, no fixing.

The bottom line

Living with emotional dysregulation means riding a rollercoaster we can’t control.

Joy is ecstatic. Disappointment is devastating. Frustration is rage. Sadness is despair. For us there’s no middle ground. No moderation. No dial to turn down.

It’s not a character flaw. It’s not immaturity. It’s not attention-seeking. It’s our brains processing emotions at an intensity that matches everything else about our brain wiring - louder, faster, more intense than the world expects.

Sometimes we’re messy. Sometimes overwhelming. Sometimes we need space.

But we’re not broken. We’re just feeling everything, all at once, all the time.

And we know that’s exhausting. For us, and for those around us.

Buy Me A Coffee!

My ADHD Short Series

Here’s what’s still coming, in no particular order:

1. We’re not lazy, our brains just work differently (Executive dysfunction explained)

2. Time isn’t real for us (Why we struggle with lateness and it’s not about you, it’s time blindness)

3. Hyperfocus isn’t a superpower we control (It’s a mode our brain enters…)

4. We feel emotions at full volume (Where the dial is not broken, it’s non-existent)

5. Our sense of justice is debilitating (Why we can’t just “let it go”, no seriously, we can’t!)

6. RSD is crippling our self-worth (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria explained)

7. We’re not bad at listening (We’re hearing things either superfast, or not at all)

8. Routine is hard, but chaos is harder (The structure paradox)

9. We already feel like we’re failing (All. The. Time.)

10. Some of us live our whole life believing we’re broken (We simply don’t have that ‘off’ switch…)

Article 2 in the series I promised, and yeah, read on and understand why the delay!

There are only two times in ADHD land: “now” and “later”.

That’s it. That’s the whole system.

And if you don’t have ADHD, this probably sounds ridiculous. But stay with me.

Time blindness is real

Simply put our brains don’t measure time the same way most (neurotypical) brains do.

Two minutes can feel like it takes twenty minutes to pass. Standing on a platform waiting for a train? Interminable. But the hour we had to get ready to get there? It’s gone in the blink of an eye!

When something is three hours away we feel either paralysed for that three hours, our brains frozen by the myriad of things it comes up with that might delay us and end up with us terrified we’re going to be late (because hey, we’ve been berated for being late for most of our lives) so we just wait… or…

We think we can get the floors washed, carpets vacuumed, laundry done, windows cleaned, polish the car, do the grocery shopping, and a three course meal prepped and presented on an immaculately laid table in that three hours before our guests are due to arrive.

Right after we look up the recipe and ingredients on our phone…

Oh look! What a cute puppy!

It’s called time blindness, and it’s not that we don’t care about being on time or meeting deadlines. It’s that time itself is this slippery, unreliable concept that refuses to behave the way everyone says it should. Or for the Dr Who aficionados – “a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff”. IYKYK.

The Nuts and Bolts of it

Again, this isn’t made up, it’s neuroscience! In summary:

· Our recognised dopamine dysregulation makes it harder to accurately judge and estimate time

· Differences in our prefrontal cortex wiring can and does directly impact our time management skills

· Our ‘internal clock’ can be disrupted, which will of course directly affect our perception of time, causing it to be… wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey!

Basically from my understanding (and lived experience) our brains prioritise different things other than time. If you think back to the ‘tribe on the savannah’ I’ve mentioned before, where our wiring was excellent in the roles of scouts and guardians, protectors of the tribe, we were living very much ‘in the moment’. Our awareness of everything going on around us, our abilities to identify safe routes, protected paths, and imminent danger was paramount. It wasn’t weighed down with what time will the tides come in (we would be aware of the tide’s movement and pattern by sound and vision in the ‘now’, and already take that into account), when does the sun rise (our eyes would be feeding us the ‘now’ information which was all that mattered right then), and how long until breakfast? Knowing that didn’t stem hunger, so it wasn’t important.

Of course everything in society today runs according to a man-made schedule. Everyone is expected to operate on that schedule. Some of us just aren’t wired to have that schedule as our priority.

Until it becomes a part of a hyperfocus…

Why we seem to leave everything until the last minute

‘Later’ means everything that isn’t happening in this moment.

So that assignment due next week? Later. That appointment tomorrow morning? Later. That thing we need to do later today? Yep, right there… later.

Until ‘later’ becomes ‘now’. And it’s 2 am, and the urgency has activated our priority system, and we’re frantically catching up.

I know for myself that working on major projects certainly helped me get at least a grasp, albeit tenuous at times, on time management. And having a team around to maintain the momentum was a huge boon. Having that interdependence gave me a modicum of direction, and my love of my roles, respect for the projects, my team, and the outcomes gave me the dopamine boosts needed to keep my eye on the prize.

Though something else that I’ve discovered is an ADHD thing? At the end of a project, when everyone was celebrating and enjoying the sense of ‘job well done!’, I wouldn’t feel it. I would basically walk away as if it was just another day… but that’s another article in the series.

The eternal optimism problem

Situation: Need to leave in 20 minutes to catch the train.

Me: “I can get ready in 10 minutes!”

Reality: It took 27 minutes.

We genuinely believe we can do things in perceived timeframes, because of the whole ‘time blindness’ thing! Let me give you an example:

- 3 minutes to shower (forget about the time it takes to undress, remove watch, find ‘shower playlist’, and then drying off afterwards)

- 2 minutes to clean teeth (that’s how long the electric toothbrush runs, forget how long to put toothpaste on, run under water, stop to sing the chorus of your fave song that just came on, rinsing mouth after, cleaning and drying toothbrush so it doesn’t leave a ring on the counter)

- 3 minutes to get dressed (easy if it’s a uniform, but what’s the weather app saying the day will be like and should I wear long sleeves or short, hoodie or sweater, where are we going again? And is it sandals or socks and shoes, or boots?)

- 2 minutes for final prep (sometimes eyeliner, mascara, brush hair, decide if it should be pulled back, worn up, use a clip, perhaps a ponytail? Oh, and those earrings don’t go with that, need to change those, but where did I put them when I took them off last time… and where are my keys, train pass, accreditations, laptop, damn need new batteries for my mouse, and is my notebook in my bag, and where’s my phone?)

Once I realised this, and I was dependent on public transport instead of the flexibility of driving, I literally shifted my morning routine and planned on catching an earlier train, in case my system broke down and I ‘paralysed’. Fortunately when I was working on contracts the motivation I mentioned before, the dopamine of working with a great team, was enough to keep me on track.

This became really evident when I think back to days off, when I’d plan to go out and do something, visit somewhere amazing, enjoy some sights (especially when living in Tokyo and Paris)… and end up not. The whole ‘paralysis by analysis’ would kick in, brain would go into a million different directions, the couch and a blanket became a very attractive alternative, and the squirrels would have a field day, golden snitch beware!

And I’ve noticed since I’ve been writing, even doing these articles, time bends and warps. I can sit down and start to simply review, and a few sentences in, maybe a paragraph, some rewriting, rearranging… and an hour has disappeared. Very frustrating when you were scheduled to jump into a call 20 minutes earlier…

Every. Single. Time.

It makes us look like we don’t care

Here’s what hurts: When you’re consistently late or miss deadlines, people think you don’t respect them or their time.

But the opposite is true. We care SO MUCH. Remember our ‘justice sensitivity’? Being late is an injustice to you, and your time. We’re just battling a brain that experiences time completely differently. So completely differently that we really do struggle with the man-made construct of schedules. THAT’S what brings us undone. Our brains are simply not wired to deal with those.

And I know that for me, it becomes a real pressure point. I know I’ve become more than a little annoyed or upset sometimes about punctuality, especially when others don’t respect it.

I know how much of an effort it takes for me to be on time, how much organising and stressing and rushing I do so as to be on time, out of respect for someone else’s time. So when others wander in late, chatting, laughing, no thought at all for those they’ve kept waiting my ‘justice sensitivity’ kicks in, and how! See Article No 5…

What actually helps

As mentioned, the ‘schedule’ part of our lives is a man-made construct. So man-made help in monitoring this ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff is easy! Or is it?

- Clocks. Visual and auditory timers. Time Timer apps.

- Alarms set for “leave now” not “appointment time.” Google Maps is excellent when you use it from ‘my location’ and it includes the walking!

- Building in buffer time. Lots of it.

- Understanding friends who will text you “be there at 6:45” when dinner is at 7.

But mostly? Understanding that we’re not doing this on purpose. We’re not being disrespectful. We’re genuinely trying to navigate a world that runs on a time system our brains can’t naturally track.

The bottom line

If your ADHD friend is late (again), try to remember: they’re not choosing to or disrespecting you. They’re battling time blindness while trying to exist in a world that’s built around something their brain can’t reliably perceive.

We’re doing our best. Sometimes our best just means showing up 15 minutes late with an apology and genuine remorse.

Buy Me A Coffee!

My ADHD Short Series

Here’s what’s still coming, in no particular order:

1. We’re not lazy, our brains just work differently (Executive dysfunction explained)

2. Time isn’t real for us (Why we struggle with lateness and it’s not about you, it’s time blindness)

3. Hyperfocus isn’t a superpower we control (It’s a mode our brain enters…)

4. We feel emotions at full volume (Where the dial is not broken, it’s non-existent)

5. Our sense of justice is debilitating (Why we can’t just “let it go”, no seriously, we can’t!)

6. RSD is crippling our self-worth (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria explained)

7. We’re not bad at listening (We’re hearing things either superfast, or not at all)

8. Routine is hard, but chaos is harder (The structure paradox)

9. We already feel like we’re failing (All. The. Time.)

10. Some of us live our whole life believing we’re broken (We simply don’t have that ‘off’ switch…)

Article 5 in the series I promised, and yeah, read on and understand why the delay!

During my 12-month journey of discovering how my brain works differently, I learned something that explained so much, and I hadn’t even realised was a thing: justice sensitivity.

That overwhelming need for things to be FAIR? For wrongs to be righted and rules to make sense?

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I’d always thought it was just me being difficult. Stubborn.

Turns out, it’s not just a real thing, it’s an ADHD thing. So it’s on my list. And once you understand what’s actually happening, it makes a lot more sense.

What is justice sensitivity, actually?

Justice sensitivity is basically a heightened awareness of, and emotional response to unfairness and injustice.

For ADHD brains, this gets amplified because of how we process emotions and perceive the world. We don’t just notice injustice—we feel it intensely and struggle to let it go.

And apparently it’s connected to a few things happening in our brains:

• Emotional dysregulation - we feel everything more intensely (coming up in Article 4: Emotions at full volume)

• Black-and-white thinking - things are either fair or unfair, right or wrong, but sometimes with so many grey areas it’s debilitating

• Difficulty with cognitive flexibility - once we’ve identified something as unjust, our brains struggle to shift perspective or “move on” – think of it like a hyperfocus has kicked in, and just like then, we are caught in it

• Strong moral reasoning - we’re often deeply invested in principles and fairness

Personally I’ve pieced together some thoughts on this puzzle – remember I’m simply someone who’s lived with this all her life, and observed it in one of my children, a daughter. And am now understanding why this is happening, and not to everyone!

It’s not a personality flaw. It’s neurology.

• We are great at pattern recognition

• We also identify many different outcomes in an instant (which causes paralysis by analysis, except we analyse in a split second or two so are not even completely consciously aware of it! And yes that’s another article subject)

• When we see an action that is unjust, we can immediately perceive how that one action, if allowed to happen without consequence, can cause a ripple effect, and

• We become hyperfocused on preventing that/those consequence(s)

So when someone cuts in line, we’re not just annoyed—we’re seeing the breakdown of social order that would happen if everyone did this.

Again, just my thoughts on what our wiring is doing, nothing ‘scientific’ about my concepts, just lived experience and lots of thinking.

What it actually feels like

Someone cuts in line?

We notice. We feel it. Not just for ourselves, but for everyone waiting. The unfairness bothers us long after it should, the consequences already rippling through our mind.

I remember how orderly the queuing system was in Japan—everyone waiting for the subway patiently in line, access to the sometimes overcrowded carriages goes to those who were there first. Later, in London and Paris, the disregard when people just pushed in felt physically wrong to me. It felt like a violation of basic fairness, and not just to me, but to all who’d been waiting.

Or think about waiting for a parking space while someone’s pulling out, and another car swoops in and takes it. Most people are annoyed for a moment and move on. We’re thinking about it an hour later, still feeling that surge of “that’s not RIGHT.”

Someone lies either to us, or someone else?

Our trust is shattered. And once it is, there is no turning back.

The ferocity of my response to deception has left people stunned. I’m not proud of every reaction, but I now understand where they come from. The anger, the way my hackles rise—it’s not about the lie itself. It’s about the ripple effects of allowing deception without consequence.

And I’m reminded of the Corrs’ song “Forgiven, Not Forgotten”—because that’s exactly it. That person is now in a different category in my mind forever.

We feel other people’s injustices too

A colleague blamed unfairly? We’re stepping in to point out why that’s not right, even when they’ve moved on.

Someone treated poorly in a shop? We’re there, intervening.

A rule that makes no logical sense? We’re the ones still arguing about it while everyone else wants the meeting to end.

We feel other people’s injustices almost as intensely as our own. It’s not that we’re looking for battles—we simply can’t not notice, can’t not feel, can’t not care.

What actually helps

1. Understanding the why Knowing this is an ADHD trait, not a character flaw, helps reduce the shame around it. And helps identify coping tactics.

2. Recognizing the pattern When you notice yourself spiralling over an injustice, you can ask: “Is this something I can actually change? Is this mine to carry? And are there long term consequences?”

3. Setting boundaries with information Identify the inputs and minimise them. The news, social media, certain conversations – they can trigger justice sensitivity spirals. It’s okay to limit exposure. You’re not abandoning your values; you’re protecting your mental health.

4. Redirect, don’t suppress Instead of “just let it go” (which doesn’t work), try: “What can I actually do about this?” Sometimes the answer is “nothing,” and that’s important to acknowledge. Other times it might be writing it out, journaling, that helps work through it. I’ve found this helps – I’ve seen comments that have incensed me and I’ve written responses, then closed the thread before posting. So. Many. Times!

5. Channel it strategically Choose one or two causes you can actually impact, that are meaningful to you. Remind yourself of these when others arise.

6. Talk it through Sometimes we need to verbally process the injustice before we can let it go. Find someone who’ll listen, then help you redirect.

For people supporting someone with justice sensitivity

When your ADHD person can’t let something go:

Don’t say: “Just let it go” or “It’s not worth the energy” or “Pick your battles”

Try instead:

• “I can see why that bothers you. What would fair look like?”

• “Is this something you can change right now?”

• “I hear you. And I also see this is costing you sleep.”

• “What would help you step back from this one?”

Understanding that they’re not being stubborn, that their brain is genuinely stuck in a process, changes how you respond.

The bottom line

Justice sensitivity in ADHD isn’t about being difficult or self-righteous.

It’s about brains that notice injustice acutely, feel it intensely, and struggle to shift away from it.

Sometimes that manifests as passionate advocacy and meaningful change.

Sometimes it manifests as losing sleep over a parking space incident from two weeks ago.

Both are the same neurological trait, just applied to different situations. The goal isn’t to stop caring about justice—that’s part of who we are. The goal is learning to distinguish between battles we can fight effectively and injustices we need to acknowledge and allow to be resolved another time by someone else… somehow.

It’s exhausting work. And we’re doing our best.

My ADHD Short Series

Here’s what’s still coming, in no particular order:

1. We’re not lazy, our brains just work differently (Executive dysfunction explained)

2. Time isn’t real for us (Why we struggle with lateness and it’s not about you, it’s time blindness)

3. Hyperfocus isn’t a superpower we control (It’s a mode our brain enters…)

4. We feel emotions at full volume (Where the dial is not broken, it’s non-existent)

5. Our sense of justice is debilitating (Why we can’t just “let it go”, no seriously, we can’t!)

6. RSD is crippling our self-worth (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria explained)

7. We’re not bad at listening (We’re hearing things either superfast, or not at all)

8. Routine is hard, but chaos is harder (The structure paradox)

9. We already feel like we’re failing (All. The. Time.)

10. Some of us live our whole life believing we’re broken (We simply don’t have that ‘off’ switch…)

Article 10 in the series I promised, and yeah, read on and understand why the delay!

Here’s something that might surprise a neurotypical, and be difficult to comprehend. Our ADHD brains: they don’t stop. Ever.

Never.

From the moment I wake, till the moment I finally drift off, my squirrels are active. All. The. Time. And when you grow up not knowing this is ADHD, you grow up thinking you’re just... broken.

Or like me, I thought everyone was like this. When people said I was ‘too much’ or told me to ‘calm down,’ I thought I was broken because I couldn’t. Those squirrels were with me from day one..

The brain that never stops

Imagine for a moment, if you can, your brain is processing everything, all the time. Everything.

Not just your own thoughts - which for us are running at full speed, multiple tracks simultaneously, non-stop - but also every sound, every movement, every smell, every visual detail in your environment.

Neurotypical brains have filters. They can focus on one conversation, and one subject or topic while automatically filtering out the background music, the hum of the air conditioning, the person walking past, the car outside, the clock ticking. And other thoughts that are triggered by any of those activities.

Our brains? We hear it all. Feel it all. Notice it all. Process it all. Simultaneously.

And we can’t turn it off.

Why we stare out the window

You know that kid in class who’s “daydreaming” and staring out the window? They’re not being defiant. They’re not bored. They’re not choosing to ignore the teacher. Or lecturer.

They’re simply trying to survive.

When the noise and input and constant processing becomes too much, staring into space or out the window is our brain’s way of getting some time out. To find a moment of reduced input. To give ourselves a break from the overwhelming amount of information flooding in. Our brain is ‘catching up’.

It looks like we’re not paying attention. But we’re actually trying so hard to manage the attention we’re paying to EVERYTHING that we simply zone out just to cope. This is particularly inconvenient in the middle of a meeting…

The exhaustion nobody sees

By the end of a normal day, we’re exhausted in a way that’s hard to explain.

It’s not so much tired from physically doing things, though that can be a factor. It’s tired from our brains never stopping. Even sitting still our minds are still in motion and we really can’t stop it. Dr Ned Hallowell, a well-known psychiatrist specialising in ADHD described it brilliantly - it’s like having a Ferrari brain with bicycle brakes! And he should know, he has ADHD wiring too!

It’s an exhausted from processing every input. From fighting to focus through the noise. From managing the constant flood of thoughts and sensory information.

And people saying things like “you’re tired? You barely did anything today!” only leads us to again believing we’re wrong for feeling this way. And that something’s wrong with us.

In fact it’s just that we’ve run the marathon while others have done the 100m dash. This is what it takes for us just to exist in the world built, run and designed by neurotypical brains.

Growing up thinking we’re broken

When you’re a child with ADHD and nobody knows it’s ADHD, here’s what you’re told:

You’re too much.

Too loud.

Too distracted.

Too sensitive.

Too spacey.

You’re not trying hard enough.

Not focusing.

Not listening.

Not caring.

“If you just applied yourself...”

“If you would just pay attention...”

“Why can’t you be more like...”

Every one of these things were said to me. I can still remember them even 50 years or more later.

You watch other kids seem to manage things easily that feel impossible for you. You see them sit still, finish their work, remember their homework, not get overwhelmed by the noise in the classroom.

And you think: there’s something wrong with me. I’m not good enough.

The shame we carry

That shame doesn’t just go away when you get diagnosed later. If you get diagnosed later.

Some of us carry it for decades. That deep belief that we’re fundamentally flawed. That everyone else got an instruction manual and we somehow missed it. Or lost it.

We’ve spent our whole lives being told (or believing) that our struggles are character flaws, not neurological differences. So we struggle to fit in, try and behave like others. But are constantly told we’re getting wrong.

We’re lazy. Unmotivated. Careless. Irresponsible. Difficult.

When in fact the truth is our brains work differently, and we’ve been trying to survive in a world built for brains that have an off switch.

For the parents reading this

If you have a neurodivergent child, please understand this:

• When they zone out or stare into space, they’re not being defiant. They’re either off with their squirrel squadron, or trying to cope with overwhelming input.

• When they can’t sit still, or fidget, it could be their brain is trying to regulate itself through movement - things like tapping a pencil, or jiggling a leg - and items such as a ‘fidget ring’ or spinner can be a big help.

• When they forget things, get distracted, or seem scattered, it’s not that they don’t care or didn’t listen. It’s simply that their brain is processing a hundred more inputs and often the thing that’s a priority for you gets lost in all the noise and something else wins in ‘the focus stakes’.

• When you need them to follow instructions give them a simple, one step at a time, instruction to help them keep on task. Too many at once gives them too many alternative paths on top of the ones their brain is already creating!

• When they’re exhausted after what seems like a normal day, believe them. Their brain has been processing way more data and input that others.

Your child isn’t broken. They’re not lazy. They’re not trying to be difficult.

They’re trying to survive with a brain that doesn’t have an ‘off switch’, in a world that expects them to function like it does.

Ask them how they’re doing. Give them simple structure and support their efforts - even something as simple as putting on their shoes and socks can take time and effort to complete as there are so many other things more interesting and distracting going on!

What we need to hear

“It’s OK.”

“Let’s see how we can take this and break it into doable steps.”

“What are you thinking would be a good next step?”

“I see how hard you’re trying.”

“It’s okay to need breaks. It’s okay to zone out sometimes.”

“Shall we do this together?” (Body doubling is a real thing, even for kids!)

We needed to hear these things as children. Many of us still need to hear them as adults.

The bottom line

Some of us have spent our entire lives believing we’re fundamentally broken because we don’t have that off switch everyone else seems to have.

We’ve internalized decades of being told we’re not trying hard enough, when the truth is we’ve been trying harder than anyone knows just to function.

Our brains don’t stop. They don’t filter. They don’t give us a break.

And that’s not a character flaw. It’s neurology.

The world wasn’t built for brains like ours, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with us.

Think of it like this - the world has been designed by and for monkeys. Clever monkeys. They assess everything according to how they do things, learn things, organise things, and manage things. And they can rest, and sleep and get on with things again the next day.

And along comes a dolphin. It tries to fit in, jumps through the hoops, tail walks to look like they’re ‘normal’ and fit in, and even make noises to ‘talk’. In their world they use sonar, swim almost constantly, and are basically at risk of drowning if they don’t come to the surface to breath.

Expecting an ADHD brain to operate like a neurotypical is like expecting a dolphin to climb the tree with the monkeys…

If you’re reading this and recognizing yourself - or your child - in these words: it’s OK. You’re/they’re not broken. You/they never were. Your brain just works differently. And that’s okay.

PS: This is from the the series mentioned here specifically for !

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My ADHD Short Series

Here’s what’s still coming, in no particular order:

1. We’re not lazy, our brains just work differently (Executive dysfunction explained)

2. Time isn’t real for us (Why we struggle with lateness and it’s not about you, it’s time blindness)

3. Hyperfocus isn’t a superpower we control (It’s a mode our brain enters…)

4. We feel emotions at full volume (Where the dial is not broken, it’s non-existent)

5. Our sense of justice is debilitating (Why we can’t just “let it go”, no seriously, we can’t!)

6. RSD is crippling our self-worth (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria explained)

7. We’re not bad at listening (We’re hearing things either superfast, or not at all)

8. Routine is hard, but chaos is harder (The structure paradox)

9. We already feel like we’re failing (All. The. Time.)

10. Some of us live our whole life believing we’re broken (We simply don’t have that ‘off’ switch…)

Article 1 in the series I promised, and yeah, read on and understand why the delay!

Here’s the comment that makes every ADHD person want to scream - “You’re just being lazy.”

No. No we’re not. And here’s why.

What executive dysfunction actually feels like

For a moment imagine this:

• You KNOW you need to do the thing.

• You CARE about doing the thing.

• You can literally SEE the thing sitting there waiting.

• Your brain is screaming DO THE THING.

And your body just... sits there. Betraying you.

It’s like having all the motivation in the world but someone’s unplugged the cable between your brain and your control centre that makes your body actually START to get the thing done.

ADHD brains struggle with something called executive dysfunction — which sounds fancy and clinical, but what it actually means is that the “get up and go do it” part of our brain lags behind. Sometimes waaaay behind. Sometimes it doesn’t show up at all - it’s completely offline.

You know, the whole ‘function’ part of our brain, the ‘executive function’ division. Offline. MIA. Kinda frustrating. And sometimes debilitating. I still find myself, at times, sitting staring at something, brain going through what I have to do, like prepare a presentation, or take the dog for a walk, or reply to some emails, or vacuum the carpets… and yet? Nada. Squirrels quickly dive-bomb with much more important, and diverse activities for me to consider. And nothing gets done.

The lies we tell ourselves

More than once I’ve thought:

• it’ll only take ‘5 minutes’ to pack that box, or

• I should put these books on that bookshelf, or

• gotta put that washing away, and

• must put these cups back in the kitchen, but

• must check and book a flight... and then I go do something else.

Or at least look at doing something else.

And a week later it’s still not done.

Not because I don’t care. Not because I’m lazy. But because my brain’s ‘executive function’ division looked at my to-do list and said “not critical, what else is there?”

It’s not about wanting to

This is what people don’t get. We’re not sitting there thinking “eh, I don’t feel like it.” We’re fighting ourselves just to begin. Every. Single. Time.

And it’s not just exhausting, it’s frustrating. And then we have to deal with people thinking we just don’t care enough or aren’t trying hard enough.

Believe me, we’re trying. We’re trying so hard you have no idea.

What helps (sometimes)

Body doubling — having someone else in the room, even if they’re doing something completely different. Or on a call.

I know I used to get the most cleaning done when a friend who loved a chat would call. Unbeknownst to her I would put on my bluetooth earpiece, pick up a cloth and spray bottle, and start doing the front of the kitchen cupboards, the fridge, the door frames, the light switches… you name it, I would ‘Spray ‘n’ Wipe’ it clean while listening and responding with simple, “Uh huh” or “Really?” or “I bet.” I might add, I knew nothing about ADHD or executive dysfunction or body doubling back then. It’s only in retrospect when I am reviewing my life I have been able to identify all these.

Also breaking things into ridiculously small steps helps, especially at the ‘to do’ list stage. It’s not “clean the kitchen” but instead “get up out of chair, take bowls and cups to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher,” and “return peanut butter to the cupboard,” and “toss tea towels in laundry basket”. It literally takes that sort of thought process to get it done.

Plus external deadlines. Accountability. Urgency (which is why we’re night-before-the-deadline people).

But here’s the thing — these don’t always work. Because executive dysfunction is real, and it doesn’t follow rules.

What we need you to know

When your ADHD person is staring at their laptop/the dishes/the pile of laundry and not moving, they’re not being lazy.

They’re stuck. And they probably know it, and hate themselves for it.

What doesn’t help is telling them “just do it” or “stop making excuses.”

What can helps is “Do you need help getting started?” or “Want to do this together?” or even just “I see you’re struggling, and that’s okay.”

Again, we’re not lazy. Our brains are just wired differently. And we’re doing our best with the wiring we’ve got.

My ADHD Short Series

Here’s what’s still coming, in no particular order:

1. We’re not lazy, our brains just work differently (Executive dysfunction explained)

2. Time isn’t real for us (Why we struggle with lateness and it’s not about you, it’s time blindness)

3. Hyperfocus isn’t a superpower we control (It’s a mode our brain enters…)

4. We feel emotions at full volume (Where the dial is not broken, it’s non-existent)

5. Our sense of justice is debilitating (Why we can’t just “let it go”, no seriously, we can’t!)

6. RSD is crippling our self-worth (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria explained)

7. We’re not bad at listening (We’re hearing things either superfast, or not at all)

8. Routine is hard, but chaos is harder (The structure paradox)

9. We already feel like we’re failing (All. The. Time.)

10. Some of us live our whole life believing we’re broken (We simply don’t have that ‘off’ switch…)

It’s an entirely different way of experiencing the world and life that neurotypicals just don’t ‘get’. And it varies amongst those of us wired this way. It’s louder, faster, messier, and sometimes way more exhausting than you can possibly imagine if you don’t live inside this brain.

People see the outside stuff. The lateness. The impulsivity. Talking over the top of others. The seventeen half-finished projects scattered across three rooms and forty four browser tabs. And don’t get me started on the screencaps! What they don’t see is the emotional maelstrom crashing away behind the scenes while we’re desperately trying to look like we have it together.

So I’m writing a series of articles about the things I wish people understood. The things I’m tired of experiencing and explaining, but need to explain because maybe, just maybe, someone needs to hear that they’re not alone in this. Or someone might actually realise that someone they know might actually be struggling with this.

And because my ADHD brain can’t read long articles (oh, the irony), I’m keeping each one short. One topic. One truth. That’s it.

Here’s what’s coming, in no particular order:

1. We’re not lazy, our brains just work differently (Executive dysfunction explained)

2. Time isn’t real for us (Why we struggle with lateness and it’s not about you, it’s time blindness)

3. Hyperfocus isn’t a superpower we control (It’s a mode our brain enters…)

4. We feel emotions at full volume (Where the dial is not broken, it’s non-existent)

5. Our sense of justice is debilitating (Why we can’t just “let it go”, no seriously, we can’t!)

6. RSD is crippling our self-worth (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria explained)

7. We’re not bad at listening (We’re hearing things either superfast, or not at all)

8. Routine is hard, but chaos is harder (The structure paradox)

9. We already feel like we’re failing (All. The. Time.)

10. Some of us live our whole life believing we’re broken (We simply don’t have that ‘off’ switch…)

Each article will be short enough to actually finish. Because if anyone understands not finishing things, it’s us. And if you could see the number of drafts I have in my drafts folder, you might begin to understand!

Let me know which topic you want me to tackle first, or if there’s something else about ADHD you wish people understood.

The squirrels and I are ready when you are.

Buy Me A Coffee!

That time of year when performance anxiety sweeps across some nations worse than ever seen in any Olympic villages.

When the challenge of selecting the perfect gift takes on the proportions of climbing Mt Everest, and often leaves a great deal of trauma in its wake.

And seriously, who can tell me why it is that so many of our western culture ‘celebratory seasons’ have become so commercialised? Every year it is intensifying. An inundation of ‘seasonally themed’ decorations/gifts/etc, merchandise that has less and less to do with the why and more and more to do with the money.

For example, the big 3 that have become blockbusters:

• Easter - it’s eggs, rabbits, chickens, and great quantities of overprices and often tasteless confectionary.

• Hallowe’en - sooo much candy, and costumes, and yet not one child (or parent) that has ever come to the door has been able to give any hint of why they’re expecting candy, or what’s the purpose of dressing up.

• Christmas - the doozy of them all in western cultures. It’s called the ‘silly season’ for good reason, and regarded as the time when retailers build their biggest turnover with the pre-Christmas purchasing frenzy followed by the mind-bending post-Christmas sales. In Australia we call them ‘the Boxing Day sales’ which originated from the day after Christmas Day being called Boxing Day rather than the concept that this is how most people react to others who are focused on the same items, caught up in the bargains offered by retailers. Though sometimes I do wonder!

How do you celebrate Christmas, if you in fact do so?

Our family Christmas faded into history, probably due to 2 of the 3 siblings being ‘first responders’, and often rostered on duty. And now there simply isn’t the draw to gather for something that has very little real relevance to any of us. A milestone birthday is more likely to garner the effort of organisation and co-ordination to meet in the same location and break bread in celebration.

I also wonder if it might be the fracturing of families that’s become more the norm than the rarity in the last few decades that has contributed to the deterioration. Are we simply deciding to not force a smile onto our dials for the duration of a meal when it’s known that there is friction and factions that underly the false frivolity?

Personally, I have considered starting a group call for those who are alone on that day, 25th December, an ‘Orphans Christmas Call’ you might say? I will have already conversed with family who are 10-11 hours ahead of me, and will not be anywhere I know anyone, so this could be something, facilitating a function that might bring together some who’d simply enjoy some shared time with others.

What, if anything, do you do?

And would this sound like something worth considering?

And if you were wondering how you might give a gift to someone who’s simply travelling life currently as a nomad, you might consider this.

Buy me a coffee

In the meantime, I wish you much joy, happy seasonal celebrations, and a day to enjoy some unhurried time.

Ciao for now

Cate

Here in Substack there was … flowers! And friendly conversations, and funny thoughts shared openly, bravely. And heart-rending shares of tragedy that was real, not formulated and decorated, just simple, raw and real.

And the best part? (once I discovered it!) There was the ability to read an ‘open’ stream of notes and posts from whoever the algorithm decided to send your way… or there was the simple ‘following’ tab (which I admit took me AGES to realise! I kept missing the ‘Substack for Dummies’ classes… were there any?)

Here you could curl up with your coffee or cuppa and bloom-scroll! A wonderful feast of curated content - you being the curator rather than a profit-driven algorithm! Meeting new people when someone you followed ‘stacked’ or ‘liked’ their note, or post. This meant you had the opportunity to meet new folk without having the algorithm choose who it thought you should read.

And yet I see people starting to flap about writers leaving, and how Substack is changing. Perhaps I’m less active than they are, perhaps I’m keeping myself in my ‘Secret Garden’.

It makes me wonder a few things, and I ask your indulgence, if you have the time or inclination to respond to give some insights":

1. What drew you to Substack in the first place?

2. How long ago was that?

3. What did you notice was the differences between Substack and other platforms?

4. What would make you leave?

5. Where would you go as an alternative?

Thanks, I do love to learn what is happening in other people’s worlds, and what affects their decision making.

Ciao for now,

Cate

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What happens when a mother who fought for her misunderstood daughter discovers she's been neurodivergent all along? A journey through 30 years of ADHD evolution, from "girls don't get it" to "holy sh*t, I've had it my whole life."

The Beginning: When Girls "Didn't Have ADHD"

In 1998 I learnt of a thing called 'ADD', and then 'ADHD'. One of my children was diagnosed at around 5 as having it. Problem was she's a girl.

"Of the 11 categories of testing, that only require positive results in 6 to be diagnosed with ADD, your daughter has 10. Not even 1 in 6 cases diagnosed are girls, girls don't get it. And if they do they grow out of it by puberty, and women don't have it."

Apart from the obvious contradictions in the statement itself, I set about searching on Yahoo! (yes, this was the year of birth of Google, so Yahoo! was still 'king' of the search engines) and the internet for information. What I found was scant, and talked purely about boys who climbed walls, leapt around on furniture, were angry, unco-operative, aggressive and abusive to their parents, and pretty much uncontrollable.

My daughter was none of these.

She was incredibly easily distracted, would lose track of what she needed to do within seconds of setting out to do it, even when she knew and wanted to do the task. Simple instructions like 'put your shoes and socks on so we can get in the car and go to school' were followed only for the length of time it took her to reach her room, take out a pair of socks, see the book we'd read last night, pick up book, sit on the floor where she'd unfold socks and start to pull one sock on, then open the book and start to read while the second sock sat forlornly on the pair of shoes next to her.

This is a very simple example of a situation that would occur with every activity. I recall one time, about the age of 3, after bathtime on a cold rainy day the task of putting on pyjamas was waylaid by the rain outside. Instead of pyjamas in the bedroom, she was soon pulling on my calf-length leather boots that were sitting beside the back door, clearly begging her to be worn, and replete with only the addition of a bright pink beanie tugged down over her ears, she would soon be running around happily in the rain outside, naked, laughing and looking up to catch the rain drops in her mouth that she could, while others formed rivulets down her skin.

Again, innocuous and wonderfully innocent enjoyment to witness. But these are examples I give to illustrate how differently some people's wiring can lead them to behave, and not even realise they're potentially going to be identified as 'defiant' because they're not doing what was instructed. We won't delve into the mismatch of temperatures and clothing, because that would involve including the times when she would be wearing sweaters in the warmth of an Australian summer.

Finding Allies in Unexpected Places

As things continued along this vein I approached her teacher to see if her behaviour was just this way at home, and if things were different in the classroom environment. There was friction rising at home, and I wanted to see if I could find other ways of managing the situation. The teacher was relieved, and appreciated I'd come to her as she had been trying to figure out how to approach me about my daughter's 'distractibility' in class.

We both agreed there was in fact no malice, no rebellion, and nothing resembling 'ill-intent' or anger in her behaviour, but that it did in fact cause some challenges for the operations of the group as a whole. Just as it did the family.

And this is the reality, really, isn't it? Back then, some 30 years ago, classrooms were only just beginning to diversify from the standard layouts of rows of tables, rote learning, and the cane for those who didn't toe the line.

Observations and 'Research'

Over time I began to notice certain things that I can only explain by comparing her reactions to my computer's reactions - give me a moment to explain.

When I was working on entering data into a new database (an Access runtime payroll software package) I would often manage to get a number of screens ahead of the display, simply because of familiarity. So the data would basically be 'queued' and awaiting processing, and I'd continue to enter the data, knowing where I was at in the process without needing visual reference from the screen. Every so often though I would be unsure if I'd entered a comma or full stop, so would have to wait for the processing to catch up from some 6 or 7 screens back so I could check on the screen before continuing. My physical and mental processors were faster than the computer's. This was the 90s!

One morning, at breakfast, I observed my daughter eating her cereal, and noticed she seemed to be 'daydreaming', a fairly common occurrence during mundane activities like eating cereal. I watched her go through the process of putting her spoon in the bowl, scoop up some cereal and milk, lift it to her mouth, take the cereal off, then lower the spoon in preparation for the next scoop while she ate that mouthful. After a few 'rounds', as she was starting to put her spoon into the bowl again, I asked her simply to put her spoon down on the table. What I saw confirmed what I had deduced. It was like the signals to her muscles to take the next scoop and lift it to her mouth were already queued up and were being processed, and it was only after the signals for her to finish with the spoon in her mouth were completed that my instruction was added into the chain. Because the expression on her face as that point was reached showed the registration of the instruction and her simply following it, as if I had only just said it, her head turning to look at me and eyes meeting mine with a curious, "OK, what's up?" as her spoon was set down on the table.

Sharing the Knowledge

I went to her teacher and passed on what I'd observed, and she broke out into a smile. "Yes! That makes so much sense!" she agreed, then told me of a situation that arose at the end of the class doing written quizzes. The teacher would ask the class to put their pencils down and while others followed this instruction my daughter would continue writing for another few words before also following suit. With the new idea in hand she would give a one minute warning, that time was almost up, and then give the 'pencils down' instruction, and all the class would comply.

A simple understanding and a tiny adjustment meant a world of difference!

Long story short - her diagnosis led to a prescription of dexamphetamines that did help her. I ensured at all times I monitored both her own thoughts and feelings, and continued to observe (and at times carry out tests to see the differences) her behaviours. Over the following 8 years she would take them, and she continued to say they helped her concentrate, and her teachers all agreed it was easy to tell when she had forgotten to go to the office at lunchtime to take them.

Through the years we'd talked about why she was taking them, how they made a difference, and whether she was OK to continue taking them. Around the time she was 13 our circumstances changed, and we didn't renew the prescription, and life continued, albeit a little haphazardly at times, and now that I understand so much more, I can identify how things might have been different for her and the family, if we had continued. The joy of 20/20 hindsight.

Fast-Forward to Nearly 30 Years On: The Plot Twist

During the ensuing time, raising three kids on my own, no family support (we moved interstate, probably not the wisest choice, but there were reasons) I struggled with various aspects of the differences between my two daughters.

I now know why.

The behavioural differences were dramatic. I used to say how could two individuals made from the same ingredients, from the same manufacturer be so incredibly different. And every one of those differences I can now identify as due to the different wiring – ADHD really is a game changer.

I now cringe at some of the situations, and my reactions, and am quietly angry, ashamed and frustrated that there was no education, no information, no clue about how to identify, and manage ADHD, and the realities of it, especially in females.

And then the plot twist.

Since completing my last work contract in Paris in September 2024 I’ve been taking some time out. I'd no specific plans, but some basic ideas on what was potentially next. But I had decided that it was time I looked for alternative sources of income. Major event contracts were great, but sometimes life, and world events (such as 2020-22) meant we were extremely vulnerable. And so started my journey into entrepreneurship - and just how much money you can throw into the wrong buckets.

But what also came about, and even more importantly for me, was my discovery of some basic truths about ADHD. I’d happened across an article, and a podcast and given my daughter’s diagnosis I took a look. And wow, what a revelation that was! I discovered that:

• It's now believed to be hereditary. Huh.

• It's now being identified as just as common in women, just a whole different world of symptoms and signs.

• I have it. Without. A. Doubt.

Almost every single symptom being listed in this podcast was my every day reality. Right down to the Time Blindness and RSD. And this turned into a major hyperfocus!

So What Actually IS Neurodivergence?

In this past 10 months I've deep-dived into the world of neurodiversity research, especially ADHD. If you're new to the terms 'neurotypical' and 'neurodivergence', here's the basic breakdown:

Neuro – is to do with the brain, and it’s wiring.
-typical - the 'norm', the most common, the most likely to be found/seen/experienced.
-divergent - take a different route, differ from, divert from the 'norm'.

Simply put, neurodivergents have brains that are wired differently from the bulk of the population, who are identified as neurotypical. Those different wiring connections and different areas of brain activity mean we 'think' differently, our processing is different, and we have different responses. Some of that means we face a lot of challenges in a world basically designed for one set of wiring designs - the neurotypicals.

As one definition puts it: "Neurodivergence refers to variations in brain function and behaviour that differ from what is considered 'typical' or 'neurotypical'. It encompasses a wide range of conditions, including autism, ADHD, dyslexia, and others, where individuals may experience the world differently. The term highlights the natural diversity of human brains and challenges the idea of a single 'normal' way of thinking and behaving."

ADHD: Let's Get the Name Right

It is inaccurately described as "Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder". I prefer to use "Attention Diversity Hyperfocus Dysphoria", as I feel this better describes it, or is at least a little closer to the truth.

Most people regard 'hyperactive' as a physical attribute, hence the mistakes made by medical science identifying only males as being prone to this. Except my daughter. The main reason she was diagnosed was because I knew she was 'thinking' differently, and she had a great teacher who also observed her behaviours as 'not typical' (in a lovely caring way) and we worked together to find a way to address the situation both at home and in the classroom.

In 1998 when she was diagnosed there was so little known through the general medical profession, and to be honest, there's still a huge cohort of medical professionals who are still ignorant of the realities. Just the other day I read a post where a woman spoke with her female doctor and was told 'ADHD doesn't exist, it's all just rubbish'. I seriously feel concerned for any patient of hers with any sort of mental health condition.

If you want to hear from some professionals - neuroscientists who've been studying it now for over 20 years, and who actually LIVE with it in some instances - check out ADHD Chatter Podcast.

Living with My Squadron: The Daily Reality

My reality, in day-to-day life, is that I have a constant stream of thought running without space, breath or silence, from the moment I wake to when I fall asleep. Every day. All day. Hence my 'squadron of 16 highly caffeinated squirrels'. It's how I describe what it's like inside my head that most people seem to understand.

When I came to the realisation just recently that this is NOT how everyone else's brains work, it was a shock. I'd always thought that was just normal - everyone has that. But that's only part of it.

RSD - Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria - or 'why did I say that?? Why didn't they smile? Why wasn't I asked? What do they think of me? EVERYONE HATES ME!'

Time blindness - or 'it'll only take 5 minutes to do that, I'll do it soon, and that'll only take 2 minutes so it can wait.' These two activities are usually things like cleaning the bathroom, vacuuming the floors, putting the bins out, packing clothes away, sorting through books, getting to the bus stop (that's a 25 minute walk away) or preparing a presentation.

Interrupting without constraint when ideas have come up before someone else's sentence is finished, or even really started - we've already figured out what they're going to say due to subliminal pattern-recognition and had 4-6 alternative ideas come through, related to what they're talking about, and want to share them before they disappear back into oblivion.

Lack of motivation to take part in boring, mundane routines - cleaning house, kitchen, self, windows, vehicles, etc. But make it a 'team' activity, and fun, then you've got our attention! Or start a phone call with a friend that will take at least half to one hour and I'm there with the Spray 'n' Wipe and a cloth doing all the walls and cupboards in the kitchen, the hallway, the light switches, the doors and door frames, while listening and responding.

Highly distractible - or I need a coffee, turn on coffee machine, oh, look there's that recipe I wanted to make, heck we don't have enough butter, where did I put the car keys, and while I'm there I'll get the prescription … did I put that prescription in… oh wait, was I meant to take that tablet this morning, did I take it, or did I forget because I was listening to that meditation before I went outside to get a time lapse of the sunrise, where did I put my tripod, I'll be needing that for the podcast - damn, did I prepare the intro script and questions… what time am I supposed to be meeting them online and was it Zoom or Teams? Bugger, forgot to put water in the coffee machine, have to wait longer… should maybe sweep the floor, no it can wait till later, what's for dinner? Oh need to fill my water bottle for the office, and where's my phone so I can check what time that meeting with the guest for the podcast is again?

High sense of social justice - or don't tell me it doesn't matter when it clearly does and this needs to be put right because it just isn't fair, and no I won't let it go until justice is done…

Paralysis by analysis, or fools rush in where anyone with any sense of trepidation would fear to tread - these happen, dependent on the situation. If it's involving a decision for us, we're on the lounge paralysed, but if it's getting sh*t done and we have a critical deadline you will see solutions fly and 15 hours of work organised and completed in less than 8!

Relating matching stories – this isn’t meant to be making it about us, it’s our way of relating, saying ‘I understand, and can relate to what you’re saying’

The Point of All This

Thirty years ago, a little girl who loved books more than socks, who found rain more compelling than pyjamas, was told she had something that girls "don't get" by medical science. Today, I know better. We know better. But a lot of people don’t. Including, sadly, still some of the medical profession.

If you're reading this because you recognise yourself, your child, or someone you love in these words, know this:

• neurodivergence isn't a broken neurotypical.

• It's not a deficit or a disorder.

• It’s real.

• It's a different way of experiencing and interacting with the world.

If you still have question I welcome them. I also offer the resources such as I’ve linked to above, like ADHD Chatter Podcast, and Late Bloomers podcast by Rich and Rox of ADHD Love, both channels created by people who like me, live it every day.

And the squadron of squirrels in my head? They've been with me for 65 years. They've helped me problem-solve in creative ways, hyperfocus when it mattered, feel deeply about justice and fairness, and see connections others might miss. Yes, they've also made me interrupt conversations, forget where I put my keys (again), and clean the entire kitchen while on a phone call instead of doing the work, or washing I actually planned to do.

But they're mine. And now I’m finally understand them.

For more insights into life with the squadron, check out my other posts on navigating ADHD, entrepreneurship, and the delightful chaos of a neurodivergent in the middle of a modern midlife crisis!

But if it resonates for you, then you’re welcome.

So why am I yelling at myself about this?

Because I need to hear it, and maybe there will be something you need to hear too.

Stop looking for excuses…

I’ve come to realise I do this far too often. Search around for why something doesn’t feel like it’s working, or I’m not making any progress, or I just don’t seem to want to do something. Do you?

A couple of months ago I started this Substack account… and in the days (then weeks!) of trying to figure it all out, and what to write, I suddenly remembered that I’d already opened a Substack account on another email address… oops! I also remembered I’d struggled with what to write and how to get it all to work there too…

But this time I thought I had it figured out. I wanted to focus on a specific area, one of my niches - women’s Circles - so I kept on setting up here. You’ve heard the gurus saying it, “Niche down, find those small pockets you specialise in, be specific, share your story about those specifics, solve their problems, help them find solutions, the riches are in the niches!”

Huh.

Right.

Started trying to write.

OK.

Blank page.

What if you can’t focus on the niches? Or you have so many niches it looks like a rock climber’s dream wall, or something even a beginner scoffs at? What then?

I regrouped, let the squirrels have a field day (as if I have any real control over that!) and relooked at what I’d set up here. After much pondering, attempts to write posts, reading other people’s posts/newsletters, tyring to figure out the difference between a post, a note, and a newsletter, and write something down that actually made sense to me, I reshaped this account’s direction. As you do.

Why?

Because I couldn’t find myself writing about one niche, ad infinitum, regardless of how much I love women’s circles and what they provide. My brain just doesn’t work that way. So excuse number one was ‘booted’. Or was it?

Stop forcing yourself into a niche

This is what I finally told myself. Now don’t get me wrong, women’s circles are a very large and very important part of my facilitation work (The Circle of Us is my project in that realm) and future work. But the purpose of this Substack account morphed into what I’m basically now calling my ‘modern midlife crisis’.

I took to looking ‘inside’ at what I wanted to write about and wow, was it a very scary observation platform!

What I did find is that I enjoy writing in so many ways, but often it doesn’t actually follow any sort of format, nor a specific topic, for its entirety. For example you have no idea how many iterations this particular piece has gone through. Not even I do, I’ve lost count. (Note to self: check into what there is in the way of ‘version control’)

And I told myself ‘No-one wants to read that sort of stuff, it’s just… not worth it.’ And for all I know I could be right. Right?

So now I’d identified this excuse for not writing, I can’t force myself to write to a format (I so wish I could!) and stick to a niche. Nope, no specific topic, or niche, or subject or whatever manages to remain front and centre long enough to compose a piece worthy of publishing.

And here’s why…

(Re)Introducing the Squirrel Squadron

As I’ve already mentioned in the myriad of posts I’ve published (OK, there’s 3 but you should see the ones sitting in the ‘drafts’ of the lower branches of my ‘ideas tree’!!) it is only just very recently that I’ve learned that not everyone has a squadron of highly caffeinated squirrels constantly flying around, sometimes playing quidditch and the rest of the time chattering and running up with acorns or nuts or some other ‘gift’, and others who snatch those away and scurry off into the far distant limbs of the huge tree we all live in.

This was more than a realisation, it was a revelation. (And sorry, not sorry about the run-on sentence but it’s the reality of my brain)

I’m not neurotypical, but nor am I broken. I may be:

• talkative,

• insistent,

• weird,

• bossy,

• flighty,

• overly obsessed with wanting justice done,

• inattentive,

• driven,

• easily distracted (read bored here),

• chatty,

• able to solve problems in an instant (usually an emergency or life threatening situation),

• then give myself paralysis by analysis over what to write in a post,

• overwhelmed and overwhelming,

• creative,

• compassionate,

• loud,

• lonely in a room full of people,

• able to come up with witty repartee two days after an event,

• believe everyone hates me for what I did, or didn’t, say,

• believe it will take me ‘5 minutes’ to pack a box, and ‘5 minutes’ to empty a bookshelf, and ‘5 minutes’ to put a load of washing in the machine, and ‘5 minutes’ to books a flight to Bulgaria, and oh look, I need to check WhatsApp… it will only take 5 minutes… a week later and none of it’s done,

• remember conversations and moments had 33 years ago, but forget what I’d said I was going to the kitchen to do,

• able to swing through the emotional spectrum at lightning speed, and turn into a sobbing mess when simply hearing an amazing piece of music,

• great at managing major projects and high-pressure situations, but hopeless at managing to get myself into the shower and fed regularly.

And this is only some of it.

There’s also the squirrels. I’m only just coming to terms with the fact this is not how everyone else’s brains sound.

Seriously? How do you NOT have the constant chatter, a barrage of thoughts and 3 different things to get done all at the same time, as a minimum? How do you handle the quiet? (Oh how I long for some of that!)

Sometimes it’s soul crushing to think (most) others are not facing these daily challenges just to exist in today’s society.

So where to from here, after the ‘excuses’

Well, after having had more thoughts run through your head for the hour you’re trying to meditate in the morning than most people will have in a week, or longer, there’s only one thing to do.

No, wait… (chattering and squabbling, disagreements, a buzzing sound of beating wings) There maybe more than one thing, let me get back to you on that.

It’s also a quandary when you’re trying to figure out what you can and need to/should do to build yourself an income that will sustain you.

I’m not looking at flying around the world in private jets, or owning my own resort island retreat. I simply want to know I can afford the groceries and pay the bills while I do what it is I need and want to do.

Like help folks find what it is that’s going to make their difference, their real inner voice, start their ‘next chapter’, develop their solutions. Like hold space and facilitate women’s circles. And eventually hold and facilitate open circles. And coach. And teach other ‘modern midlife crisis’ candidates how to use their tech. And help them with guided meditations… and…

All whilst hosting my hoard of squirrels.

And one could say I’m giving myself 16 more Excuses, if one was so inclined.

In summary…

Identify the excuses.

Evict the excuses. (unless they’re, you know, squirrels, and permanent residents)

Get on with it anyway.

There’s been a whole lot of other stuff I wrote, but I’ve cut it, as I figure if you got this far it’s amazing, and I thank you for sticking it out.

If you have a neurodivergent brain and stuck it out, extra big gold star to you!

But in all seriousness, this is what I, a woman who’s just discovered after more than 6 decades that her brain’s wired differently, and her Human Design is Initiator (Manifestor), lives with going on in her brain, day in and day out.

I love writing.

I hope something I’ve written resonates with you.

If you relate to any of this, if it sounds similar to what is going on in your head, let me know.

If this sounds like someone you know and you want to know more, perhaps how you can help them cope, let me know.

And now, after more than a few weeks of rewriting, rereading, and cutting and the like, I will ‘Continue’. Thanks for sticking around, and talk again soon.

And my ‘photographer squirrel’ wanted to say hi!

For some reason over the last few days there has been a dizzying number of people appear out of somewhere magical who’ve subscribed - welcome to you all! You have no idea how seeing your lovely interest has made my heart sing, and my squirrels run around like crazy!

But what has also increased in a similar lurch of the diagnostic graph line is the number of followers, and in particular accounts of ‘newbies’ who’ve joined the platform, and who’ve for some reason decided that the DM button is the purpose. A flood of private message requests, and their profile being devoid of information, their name often misspelt and their writing content? Non-existent.

One has to ask oneself, why? Oh, there was one female profile - J.K. Rowling, but that one, like a few others, was quickly vapourised by the Substack watchdogs.

Is this something recent? The scammers are now targetting Substack? Or is it that I’ve been so far under the radar until now, and have for some reason suddenly formed a blip somewhere?

Ohhh look! It’s Jason Statham now! Wait…

BRB!

That’s what it says at the top of the page, and oddly enough as soon as I see that all thoughts, inspiration and ideas for sharings scatter to the four winds, like the tufts of a dandelion sent skyward by an exuberant puff. Or an overly excited squirrel.

And then the rest of the squirrel squadron who were just a short while ago suffering a severe case of the zoomies seem to become distracted by the golden snitch nicking off next door.

So there is now white noise winding through the valleys of my mind.

Frustrating to say the least.

It’s at this moment I look to my pink post-it notes, “Done is better than Perfect!” and “Someone is waiting for you to get on with it!” alongside “I just decided DO IT!” stare back at me from my laptop keyboard (I use a wireless KB to actually type). And the one that really kicked my butt to do this? “Now is my time.”

Oh but that these clichéd missives were able to kick start the brain and creativity, the stream of consciousness that happens when I’m walking, or staring into the water droplets perfectly formed on the petals of a beautiful rose, or purple pansy, or pink peony.

Instead the tenuous grip they have on the sloped surface of my laptop fails, and they fall off, scatter, forcing me to read them again as I vainly attempt to reaffix them.

And it’s moments like this that I really hate the wiring in my brain. What I wouldn’t give to not hear the squirrels, to be able to focus long enough to read a full newsletter or response from Gemini’s Deep Research results. Because yes, I’m also trying to write about something I feel is worth talking about - connection. The way we connect, and the importance of story-telling. The sharing of knowledge and experiences and the building of connections through story-telling.

I do feel passionate about it, and just starting to write that down here has rekindled that spark of curiosity into what Gemini has found for me in its deep dive into oldest living culture, the First Australians. And I will go and look at that momentarily, but I’m really working hard to keep my focus on here right now. Despite the tugs and chitterings going on in my head.

“Get a goal,” they said, “that will keep your focus,” they said.

And when you come up with 5 different goals?

“Look deeper and find your passion!” they said. “What are you values?”

I have found that. I value honesty, compassion, patience, curiosity, unhurried silence…

And that is a whole other world. The unhurried silence that has been sacrificed on the alter to the ever-demanding gods of ‘growth’ and ‘productivity’. How dare you actually stay still and cogitate when there’s things to be done, works to be completed, buttons to be pushed, holes to be dug, and filled again, and the constant demand for ‘more’.

Unhurried silence.

Where existing is the activity, mindfulness the state of being, comprehension the potential product, and perhaps clarity the final gift.

So as I await inspiration, I will partake of some unhurried silence. Feel free to join me, I welcome your thoughts, your sharings, and whatever else your time here might elicit from you.

Or not. It is of course your choice.

May your explorations be fruitful, and your discoveries rich.

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When I decided to start writing in Substack I was literally wandering onto a platform that I know very little about, other than it isn’t like the others. And that was only a few days ago, so I’m still very much figuring out the differences between ‘notes’ and ‘posts’, ‘subscribing’ and ‘following’, and all the other options on the various menus.

So I was looking for guidance. Or at least a ‘roadmap’.

Instead, a Nursery

I stumbled across the rather insightful and helpful idea of having, well, an Idea Tree.

So, intrepid learner that I am I have set out to do exactly that. I’ve planted a seed, carefully watered it, ensured it has ideal growing conditions, and waited. Fortunately in our fertile minds a tree can sprout, reach up, and grow into a mighty specimen in moments, or however fast we want.

If only it was that easy in nature, right?

Growing those Branches

So to continue along this metaphor, in our designer tree, 3 branches develop.

And these 3 branches are the ones we want to focus on, want to delve into, want to share. In the time I spent discovering the three branches, or in other parlances, three pillars, I struggled with the squirrels. No, not the cute furry kind that scurry around the garden.

A little more sinister, though not intentionally.

Oops, watch the weather report!

They are the squadron of 16.

And they’re flying constantly in my head, dragging my attention in a myriad of directions, constantly tussling for supremacy. One has it for a while, (approximately the time it takes to write a short paragraph or three) then just as you start to reread/write/reword, crosswinds hit and another one zooms through to drag me off in another direction. And then there’s the times they start playing quidditch…

Yes, I am (newly discovered) Neurodiverse. Or to be more precise, ADHD - Attention Diversity, Hyperfocus Distortion, which is a little closer to the reality than the original description of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.

But back to the Idea Tree.

Wrangled

It has taken a little while, including a grocery delivery and 2 episodes of Ted Lasso, but here I am again.

I have managed to wrangle this much from my mind as it has worked on the timbre of the branches (no that’s not a typo), the reason I have decided to take to the keyboard here. It was both simple, but complex and took some thought to ensure it makes at least some skerrick of sense. So here they are, my 3 branches, currently (hey, neurodivergent means our minds come up with different stuff all the time, so bear with me! And my 16 squirrels…)

Community

• being a part of a group brought together by similar interests and thoughts. One can be a part of more than one community, as we are as complex as we are, and can carry interests in a diversity of topics, subjects, places, people, events, ideas and existences. My own cover a spectrum of scary dimensions when I actually look at them all! But I want to build, and be a part of a community, and hopefully one with at least a little soul.

Connection

• having open channels through which to communicate with others. Connection is represented to me by communication, sharing, existing in a joined space where sharing can take place. Be it in the same physical location, or through the hyperspace connectivity of the interwebs, simply having a connection with another can bring about shifts that never take place otherwise. I want to help people build connections, feel connected, be connected.

Coaching

• providing the support to fulfil a requirement in another, offer guidance or opportunity to expand and grow. Whether by simply listening, asking questions, delving into the shared thoughts to discover new paths and directions that give inspiration and motivation. There is nothing more thrilling to me than to have made someone’s day, moment, life, existence, or whatever just a little better, happier or more enjoyable. Then I feel I’ve earned my oxygen for that day.

So these are the 3 branches from which I will pluck the fruit for my future missives.

Meanwhile, the squirrels will scamper when they’re not soaring through the skies, and I will continue to work on finding a way of getting them to either take turns, or fly in formation for more than 15 minutes to give me a chance to get something written that’s not completely nonsensical.

Has anyone seen where the golden snitch went?

The Squirrel Squadron

Figuring this all out as I learn to navigate the flight patterns of said squirrels is still very new.

Having discovered my brain’s wiring is of the neurodivergent kind has been a discovery that has lit not just a lightbulb, but a whole bloody stadium full of lighting towers, and we all know how that can be if its done in the middle of the night unexpectedly.

Glaring, dazzling, blinding and bloody revealing. And in the blinking blinding light you’re madly trying to remember if you’re clothed.

Join the Club

So is this a club you have recently been given card-carrying privileges to?

If so, let me know, because we can share stories, compare notes, laugh and cry, and maybe unearth a little more of just how we can negotiate the ‘neurotypically’-designed world we live in. Or as I saw somewhere this morning, and am stealing, the ‘neurodifficult’ world who doesn’t get us.

Tried explaining it to my 87 year old mother this morning.

On the other side of the world.

That went… well, it went.

Time to go feed the squadron.

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Start a Substack

So I feel like I should know a little more about what it is I’m creating with this ‘first post’. But I also remind myself that ‘Done is better!’ (It’s a new motto I’m trying to incorporate, definitely a WIP)

Why this and why now? Well this is because … can we say disparaging things about other social media platforms? Maybe not, will suss out the audience first - “read the room, Cate!” So why now? Because I’m finally getting my butt into gear to reach out and begin the work I feel passionate about - or at least a few of the strands of things I feel passionate about (I live with a squadron of 16 highly caffeinated squirrels flying around in my head, one of my goals is to figure out how to convince them to fly in formation long enough for me to actually focus on something and get it done!)

The three things I’m coming here with?

Number 1, writing. Storytelling. I love it. I have an epic urban fantasy saga living in my head, with approximately 12+ lead characters, some of whom have been resident muses for nearly 20 years. Now to just get the plot down on paper and convince the squirrels to give me space to fill in all the myriad of gaps!

Number 2, community. And by community I mean the creation of it. So much strength in having your community around you, and being able to ‘find your tribe’. And in particular, circles. And by circles I mean I am wanting to hold space for women to come together and simply share. So much loneliness, so much disconnection, so many stories that need to be heard. So I come here to build community.

Number 3, coaching. I love helping people find their ‘aha’ moments. One of the most exciting times as a rowing coach was seeing a rower’s face as everything came together and they really felt what it was to ‘get it’, whether it was the perfect catch, or 5 great strokes, or that moment a crew synchs and the boat flies! And now I’m stepping up as a life coach - wanting to work with you if you have some things you want to work on and improve in your life.

I am hoping to find connection, to find community and help where wanted with some coaching. Most importantly I want to write. So I am planning to write at least once a week - the subjects will be as wide and varied as my 16-squirrel squadron will deliver, apologies in advance if reading the ramblings of a newly-discovered neurodivergent is not what you signed up for, but I do thank you for at least reading this far!

So here, I’ve now done my first post in Substack. Wanted to try and add a pic… might still do so if I can figure out how.

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LOOK! Figured it out!

Now… how do I actually ‘post’ the post? Hmmm…