ADHD: More Than Just “Easily Distracted”

So…umm. I wanna talk about ADHD.

Not the cartoon version people picture: the scatterbrain, the daydreamer, the person who never finishes anything. That’s not me. I’ve managed to move quickly enough, keep things looking together enough, that most people wouldn’t even guess. On the outside, I’ve crafted a career, earned an MBA, raised a family, and been the one people can rely on.

But inside? That’s where ADHD lives. My thoughts run a thousand miles an hour. I’ve always got new ideas, new plans, new directions I want to go in. And yet, starting any of them can feel like dragging myself through mud. It’s not about laziness. It’s not about discipline. It’s about the brain refusing to switch onwhere and when you need it to.

That’s the thing with ADHD, it’s rarely what people think. It’s not that we can’t focus; our focus has a mind of its own. I can hyperfocus on something I love for hours, juggling a million tabs, projects, and conversations all at once, and somehow thrive in that chaos. But ask me to start something I find dull or repetitive, and I’ll hit a wall. Routine feels unbearable, but give me variety, urgency, and space to create? I’m in my element.

That’s why so many of us end up carving our own paths. If I’d tried to wedge myself into a rigid 9–5 system, I’d have burned out long ago. Running my own business isn’t just a choice, it’s survival. It’s where I shine. Yes, it means working long hours sometimes, but not because I have to. It’s because when I’m in flow, I don’t want to stop. And if I didn’t have that freedom? I’d get bored, stall out, and never finish anything. But give me variety, pressure, and a little chaos? I’ll find a way to thrive.

Of course, ADHD comes with challenges. Rejection sensitivity, for one—where criticism or even the thought of failure can feel like a punch to the gut. That one used to run my life. But I’ve found ways to cope. These days, I talk myself out of it before it grows legs. I nip those thoughts in the bud. In doing that, I’ve created space for peace, instead of carrying imagined rejection like dead weight.

Movement helps too, pacing, fidgeting, walking the kitchen floor while I think. People often misread it as distraction when it’s actually a tool: movement lets me find focus. And structure—calendars, lists, little visual reminders—those aren’t chains. They’re scaffolding. They turn that internal noise into a pathway I can actually walk.

Lately I’ve noticed another thing online that I find weirdly comforting: those TikTok/audio trends where a song or sound seems to “cancel out” other noise if you rotate your phone. I get why people try it, they’re chasing calm. I like how the sound effects feel too. But here’s the nuance: I don’t want to silence my inner voices. I don’t want to make my brain vanish into silence. I like hearing them and talking back to them. It’s part of how I think and create. So rather than blotting that out, I’ve learned to coexist with it, use music when it helps, let it sit quietly when I need it, and keep the conversation with myself when it sparks something useful.

Executive function remains the other big one; planning, prioritising, getting started. I’m often the person who sees the whole map but struggles to take the first step. That’s where the tools matter most. Small wins. Tiny starts. A checklist that feels like forward motion rather than a threat.

See, the point is… ADHD isn’t broken. It’s just different. A different operating system, different tempo, different set of strengths and frictions. And when you stop trying to force it into “normal,” and start building around it; leaning into the things that work, you don’t just manage. You thrive.

Not a deficit. Not a disorder.

A different rhythm.

A spark.