For the longest time, ADHD was something I only really thought about in the context of kids—specifically, helping mine navigate their own brains and energy levels. But the more I researched, the more an uncomfortable, glaringly obvious realization started to form: Wait a minute. This is me.
Let’s clear something up right off the bat, though: there is no “H” in my version. Nothing about me screams hyperactive. Unless, of course, we are talking about hyperfocused.
When I find a new interest or hobby, I am not just dipping a toe in. I am diving headfirst into the deep end without checking to see if there’s water. I must get all the things.
Take my 3D printer adventure, for example. I didn't just buy a machine; I am currently the proud owner of about 40 rolls of filament, every specialized tool imaginable, spare parts, super glue, and extra build plates. For weeks, that thing ran day and night. I was practically living in my office. And then? The novelty wore off, the printer sat, and dust started to gather—until the day I inevitably rediscover it and start the cycle all over again.
It’s the exact same story with crochet. And scrapbooking. My office and craft room are living monuments to things I started with absolute, fiery passion.
And it’s not just hobbies; it’s every project.
I get a crystal-clear vision in my head of what I want something to look like or how it’s supposed to turn out. I tear into it, working non-stop. But then reality hits: I have to wait for a part to come in, or I need someone else’s help to get to the next step. And right there, at that exact roadblock, the motivation flatlines.
I get tired, I lose steam, and I blow off the rest of the project for “later.” Except, as we all know, later never actually comes. My house is secretly haunted by the ghosts of half-finished projects.
My husband has learned to adapt. He knows that once I finally get moving on something, whatever you do, do not distract me or stop me. Because the second I lose momentum, he knows it’s going to be a very, very long time before I ever pick it back up again.
The most frustrating part? I know this about myself.
I actively try to push through. I tell myself to just finish it, to stay the course. But eventually, the wall hits: I either get profoundly bored or totally overwhelmed by what’s left to do. And once I hit that phase, my brain immediately rebels, craving the dopamine hit of the next brand-new project—or pulling me backward to unearth an even older one.
Staying on track and maintaining focus is a daily wrestling match. It's messy, it's chaotic, and my craft room is absolute proof of it. But recognizing it for what it is? That’s at least half the battle. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I hear one of my old hobbies calling my name from the dust.
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