Let’s Talk About ADHD Properly (Not the Pinterest Version)

Hey babes.

Right. We’re doing this.

We are not doing the “ooh look a squirrel” version.
We are not doing the “everyone’s a bit ADHD these days” take.
And we are absolutely not doing pastel infographics about planners that assume I know where I put a pen. (Come on, I have had multiple planners, notebooks and self-help books that are untouched)

Let’s talk about ADHD properly.

The messy, loud, exhausting, occasionally brilliant, sometimes relationship-threatening, always misunderstood version.

Because here’s the thing.

I am witty. I am dramatic. I make everything a joke. If there’s a serious moment, I will probably undercut it with sarcasm because vulnerability makes my skin itch.

I have dark brown and blue hair, tattoos, piercings, and a caffeine dependency that suggests my bloodstream is 60% Monster, 30% spite, and 10% unfinished tasks.

I love food. I love gigs. I need music loud enough to rearrange my organs. I hyperfocus on games (ESO supremacy, I will not be debating this) and forget that time exists as a concept.

And yes, I am aware I sound like a walking mid-2000s pop-punk revival.

But none of that is random.

A lot of it is dopamine.

ADHD is not just “can’t concentrate”. It’s a neurodevelopmental condition that affects executive function, which is the brain’s management system. The CEO. The operations department. The bit that says, “Right, let’s prioritise, start this task, finish it, regulate emotions, remember appointments, and not implode when someone says ‘Did you forget?’”

Mine? Is chaotic neutral at best.

Executive function covers:

• Task initiation (starting things)

• Task switching (stopping one thing to start another)

• Working memory (holding information in your head)

• Planning and prioritising

• Emotional regulation

• Impulse control

So when someone says, “It’ll only take five minutes,” what they mean is: the physical task is five minutes.

What my brain hears is:
Initiate.
Sustain focus.
Resist distraction.
Regulate internal resistance.
Ignore the phone.
Ignore sudden urge to reorganise entire bookshelf.
Remember why you walked into the room.
And don’t cry if you fail.

Easy. Apparently.

Here’s the part people don’t see.

ADHD is not a lack of knowledge.

I know what I need to do. I know the bin goes out on Tuesday. I know the email needs replying to. I know the appointment exists. I know the food shop won’t magically do itself.

The problem isn’t intelligence. It isn’t a lack of care.

It’s the gap between intention and action.

That gap? That’s where the shame lives.

If you have ADHD, you probably know this feeling: you wake up motivated. Today is the day. Today you will be organised. Today you will respond to messages in a timely fashion and drink water like a hydrated adult.

And then… nothing.

You sit there.

Staring at the task.

Fully aware.

Completely unable to move.

And then the self-talk starts.

Why are you like this?
Other people manage.
It’s not that hard.
You’re just lazy.

Except you’re not.

ADHD brains are interest-based nervous systems. We do things when they are:

• Novel

• Urgent

• Challenging

• Or genuinely interesting

Laundry? Not urgent. Not novel. Not stimulating.

Buying gig tickets the second they drop? Suddenly, I have Olympic-level focus.

That doesn’t mean I don’t care about my responsibilities. It means my dopamine system is unreliable.

Which brings me to caffeine.

Yes. I drink energy drinks like they’re a food group.

No, it’s not just because I enjoy living on the edge of cardiac awareness.

Stimulants help ADHD brains regulate. That’s why medication for ADHD is stimulant-based. It increases dopamine and norepinephrine, helping with focus and impulse control.

Now, I am not prescribing Monster as a medical intervention. Please calm down.

But there is a reason a lot of us are drawn to coffee, energy drinks, nicotine, loud music, fast driving, motorbikes, high-intensity environments.

Understimulated brains seek stimulation.

Dull feels unbearable.

Beige life? Physically painful.

And if you don’t have ADHD, that might sound dramatic.

I am dramatic. That is true.

But it is also neurological.

Let’s talk about emotional regulation.

Because this one? This is the bit that wrecks relationships.

ADHD doesn’t just affect attention. It affects how quickly and intensely we feel things.

If you say, “Did you forget again?” you might mean it neutrally.

My nervous system might hear:
You’re unreliable.
You’re a burden.
You’re failing.
You’re too much.

And suddenly I am spiralling internally while making a joke externally, so you don’t see the panic.

This is often linked to rejection sensitivity. It’s not officially its own diagnosis, but it is very real for a lot of us. Criticism, even gentle, can feel catastrophic.

And when you’ve grown up being told you’re lazy, careless, disruptive, dramatic, over the top… your brain learns that mistakes equal rejection.

So yes.

I might deflect with humour.

I might act unbothered.

I might roll my eyes and say something sarcastic.

But underneath that? There’s often shame.

Now let’s flip this.

If you love someone with ADHD, this is where it gets hard.

Because living with us can be exhausting.

We forget things that matter.
We get distracted mid-conversation.
We hyperfocus on a game for four hours and don’t hear you speaking.
We start reorganising the garage at 10pm and leave it half-done.
We promise we’ll do something “in a minute” and then it disappears into the void (for hours, days, weeks).

And that’s frustrating. Fairly.

It can feel like you’re the responsible one. The organiser. The one holding everything together.

You might feel resentful. Or tired. Or like you can’t rely on us.

Those feelings are valid.

ADHD explains behaviour.

It does not remove responsibility for repair.

That bit matters.

Because while ADHD is disabling, it’s not a free pass to never work on yourself.

We still have to build systems. We still have to apologise. We still have to take ownership when our symptoms impact others.

The difference is: shame doesn’t fix it. Structure does.

External reminders.
Visual cues.
Body doubling.
Shared calendars.
Breaking tasks into stupidly small steps.
Clear communication instead of simmering resentment.

And for us ADHD babes? Self-compassion instead of self-destruction.

There is grief in having ADHD.

Grief for the version of you that might have existed with a quieter brain.

Grief for the opportunities missed because you couldn’t organise yourself in time.

Grief for the relationships strained by misunderstandings.

Grief for the constant feeling of being slightly out of step with the world.

But there is also strength.

We are creative.
We are funny.
We are intense.
We feel deeply.
We care massively.

The world might be beige.

But we are not.

And that’s not something to extinguish.

It’s something to understand and manage.

This series isn’t going to romanticise ADHD.

It’s not a superpower in a sparkly cape.

For many of us, it’s disabling.

It affects work. Money. Parenting. Self-worth. Relationships. Mental health.

But it is also survivable.

And manageable.

And less chaotic when everyone involved understands what’s actually happening.

So hey babes…

If you have ADHD,  you’re not lazy. You’re not broken. You’re not “too much”.

And if you love someone with ADHD, you’re not cruel for being tired. You’re not controlling for wanting reliability.

We can hold both truths.

We can laugh about the chaos without pretending it’s harmless.

We can take it seriously without losing our personality.

Next time, we’ll get into something specific. Maybe task paralysis. Maybe emotional dysregulation. Maybe why I can research new recipe ideas for six hours but can’t book a dentist appointment.

Executive dysfunction, but make it eyeliner.

See you soon, babes xo