by 
I always felt different — and not necessarily in a good way.
As a kid, I watched my classmates make friends effortlessly, laughing together and navigating social situations like it was second nature. Meanwhile, I stood in the corner, wishing I knew how to join in but feeling completely clueless. It was like I had missed a critical lesson on how to be a kid.
My interests didn’t match theirs. While they talked about Britney Spears and MTV, I was more interested in Broadway musicals and burying my nose in books. My conversations flowed more easily with adults than with my peers. In fact, most of my “friends” were people at least twice my age — teachers, librarians, and family friends who appreciated my enthusiasm for learning and deep conversations.
As I got older, this disconnect didn’t go away. I still felt out of place in school, at work, and even in social situations. To compensate, I threw myself into perfectionism and workaholism. I collected degrees and chased achievements as if they were proof that I was worth something. But that relentless drive came at a cost — I burned myself out at least once a year.
And while I was overachieving, I was also trying to figure out what was wrong with me. I went down a rabbit hole of self-diagnoses. Maybe I had borderline personality disorder, like the character in Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. Or maybe I was a narcissist or had antisocial personality disorder. I was desperate for an answer because I knew I wasn’t experiencing life the way other people seemed to. Everyone else didn’t seem so overwhelmed, isolated, or depressed all the time.
Then, at 31 — after a minor mental health crisis that pushed me to seek answers — I finally got evaluated. The results? ADHD, along with depression and anxiety.
I was stunned. But what surprised me even more was my mom’s response. “Oh, you were diagnosed with ADHD when you were 11,” she said casually. I had no memory of this.
Now that I had a name for what I was experiencing, I did what I do best — I researched obsessively. I read everything I could about ADHD and its impact on adulthood. And that’s when I discovered something life-changing: I wasn’t alone.
The more I read, the more I realized how many of my “weird” quirks and experiences weren’t weird at all — they were textbook ADHD. And once I started connecting with others who shared these experiences, I realized that ADHD isn’t just about being easily distracted or forgetful. It’s a whole universe of oddly specific struggles that can make you feel isolated until you learn that others deal with the exact same things.
Here are five of those oddly specific ADHD experiences that dominate my life — and how I’m learning to deal with them.
1. I’m Smart, But I Hated School.
School felt like a never-ending nightmare.
I loved learning, but I hated the structure, the monotony, and the way success was measured. I could hyperfocus on topics I was interested in, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about things that didn’t capture my imagination. I was the kid who could read an entire novel in one sitting but forgot to turn in a five-minute homework assignment.
I coasted through subjects I enjoyed, but anything that felt boring or repetitive was like hitting a brick wall. And when I couldn’t force myself to focus, I internalized it as laziness.
👉 How I deal with it now:
I’ve stopped trying to fit into traditional productivity molds. I structure my work around bursts of intense focus, followed by breaks to recharge. I use timers to create urgency and reward myself with something enjoyable after completing tasks. It’s not perfect, but it works with my brain, not against it.
2. I’m Chronically Late — Even When I’m Early.
I can set ten alarms, lay out my clothes the night before, and map out my day to the minute — and I’ll still somehow end up running late.
It’s not that I’m careless or disrespectful. It’s just that time doesn’t register for me the way it does for others. I operate on “now” and “not now.” When I’m doing something I enjoy, I completely lose track of time. And when I’m dreading something, I procrastinate until I have no choice but to scramble at the last minute.
👉 How I deal with it now:
I’ve learned to “hack” my time blindness by setting multiple reminders and alarms. I also build in extra time for everything — if I need 20 minutes to get ready, I give myself 40. And when I have something really important, I tell myself it starts 30 minutes earlier than it actually does. It doesn’t always work, but it’s helped me be late… a little less often.
3. I Hyperfocus Until I Forget to Eat, Sleep, or Pee.
When something grabs my attention, I fall into a rabbit hole so deep that I lose all sense of time. I’ll sit down to research something for 20 minutes and suddenly look up four hours later, having skipped lunch and ignored three phone calls.
Hyperfocus is one of ADHD’s superpowers — it allows me to become laser-focused and get a ton done in a short amount of time. But it’s also a double-edged sword that leaves me physically and emotionally drained.
👉 How I deal with it now:
I set timers to force myself to take breaks and check in with my body. I also use the Pomodoro technique (25-minute work sprints followed by 5-minute breaks) to keep my focus manageable. And if I know I’m about to go down a hyperfocus spiral, I set an alarm as a “hard stop” to pull me out of it.
4. I Procrastinate… But Only Until It’s Urgent.
I can’t do anything unless there’s a looming deadline breathing down my neck.
No matter how important a task is, I’ll avoid it until the very last minute. It’s not that I don’t care — it’s just that my brain doesn’t register urgency until the panic kicks in. And once that adrenaline hits? I become a productivity machine, knocking out tasks I’ve avoided for days in a matter of hours.
👉 How I deal with it now:
I create artificial deadlines to trick my brain into feeling that sense of urgency earlier. I break down tasks into smaller chunks and assign deadlines for each step. And when I really need to get something done, I use body-doubling — having someone else in the room or on a video call while I work — to stay accountable.
5. I Forget Important Things… But Remember Weird Details.
I’ll forget my best friend’s birthday but remember the name of their childhood pet and the exact color of the shirt they wore when we first met.
My memory is a strange beast. I can recall random, hyper-specific details from years ago but forget the thing I was supposed to do 10 minutes ago. It’s not intentional — my brain just prioritizes information in ways that don’t always make sense.
👉 How I deal with it now:
I write everything down. I use a combination of digital tools and good old-fashioned sticky notes to keep track of important dates, tasks, and reminders. And I set recurring alarms for anything I need to remember consistently.
Embracing My ADHD Quirks
For most of my life, I felt like I was fighting against myself — trying to “fix” things that weren’t broken, just different. Learning I have ADHD helped me understand that my brain works in unique ways. And instead of forcing myself to fit into neurotypical molds, I’m learning to embrace and work with those quirks.
These oddly specific experiences may dominate my life, but they’re also a part of what makes me who I am. And now that I know I’m not alone in these struggles, I’m a little more forgiving of myself when I stumble — and a lot more accepting of the wonderfully weird brain that’s gotten me this far.
