Finally Understanding My ADHD As a Therapist: Why My Brain Makes Sense Now
For most of my life, I assumed something was wrong with me. Not in a dramatic way. More in the quiet, everyday, “Wait… why am I like this?” kind of way.
Childhood Clues I Didn’t Recognize
As a kid, my brain worked like a puzzle with a few crucial pieces always rolling under the couch. I would open my mouth to speak and lose the exact word I needed mid sentence. Or worse, I’d grab the entirely wrong word.
Picture 12 year old me. A kid shared something awful that happened to him, and I said, “Word,” thinking it meant “I’m listening,” instead of “I agree.” I still cringe.
And the backpack. Let’s talk about the backpack.
It wasn’t just messy.
It was a micro-ecosystem.
Loose markers.
Papers from months ago.
A sock for some reason.
A jelly bracelet.
Notes I swear I had never written.
A pencil bag with zero actual pencils.
It looked like someone dumped the contents of a miscellaneous drawer inside, shook it hard, and closed it before anything escaped.
Teachers would tell me, “Just organize it,” as if I was choosing chaos for fun.
I wasn’t.
I just didn’t know my brain needed systems I didn’t have.
The “Lazy Kid” Myth That Followed Me
I could hyperfocus on literature and math but completely glaze over in science. I couldn’t remember facts, but I could analyze anything deeply. I forgot homework constantly but could recite the plot of every book I had ever read.
So of course I assumed:
I must be lazy.
Even as a therapist.
Even after helping many clients recognize their ADHD symptoms.
I still didn’t fully see it in myself because:
I didn’t have the hyperactivity
I performed well when I “tried hard”
I did well academically
Everyone assumed I was responsible
I interpreted every struggle as a personal flaw, not a neurological difference.
Fast Forward to Adult Life and… Surprise
The difficulty with dates. The chronic “where are my keys” scavenger hunts. Putting honey in the freezer. Leaving my phone inside the car. Writing something down and forgetting that I wrote it down. I once even placed my bra on the kitchen counter in front of new roommates because I was holding too many things and something had to give. My brain makes choices that even I do not understand.
Even today, while running my own practice, dates are still my nemesis. I try to quadruple check them. I put systems in place. I set reminders and alarms. I do everything that responsible adults are supposed to do.
But sometimes, despite checking, rechecking, and re rechecking, my brain decides that numbers are optional. I recently made repeated mistakes with the dates for my upcoming training and felt horrible. It was the exact ADHD blind spot I thought I had already worked through. Apparently not.
I keep thinking, “What is this. Why is my brain like this. Does date dyslexia exist”
There is no official diagnosis for that, but many ADHD brains process time like a shaken snow globe.
The Moment the Lightbulb Finally Turned On
It clicked after working with a client whose symptoms looked… very familiar. Then my colleague, Ginea Romero, led our therapist book club through Dirty Laundry. Suddenly, I wasn’t looking at random quirks or personality flaws—I was looking in a mirror.
Everything finally made sense.
Owning ADHD As a Therapist
Now that I get it, I work with my brain, not against it.
Things I do now:
I write everything down
I ask others to write things down if it’s time sensitive
I set alarms for alarms
I use humor (yes, it’s a defense mechanism, yes, it’s staying)
I tell clients openly that dates evaporate unless they are in writing
I stop beating myself up for the parts of my brain that work differently
I celebrate the parts that are brilliant
Because I am brilliant.
Most days.
On the other days, I just can’t find my keys.
Executive Functioning: Learning It, Living It, Teaching It
Executive functioning is not about “trying harder.” It’s about acknowledging your neurological wiring and building scaffolding around it.
For me, that means:
Starting slowly
Setting clear intentions for the day
Using one or two routines consistently
Allowing dopamine cycles to rise and fall without panic
Not expecting myself to operate like a neurotypical brain
Understanding that forgetting DOES NOT = failure
And This Is Exactly Why My Rise & Thrive Challenge Exists
The Rise & Thrive Challenge was created because I needed it too.
ADHD brains do not magically “motivate” themselves. They need:
predictable structure
mindful grounding
intentional momentum in small doses
dopamine without shame
a compassionate reset every morning
That is why each day of the challenge begins with:
Mindfulness a few minutes at a time
A simple intention
A grounding anchor
A realistic focus for the day
Mindfulness has become essential for my ADHD, not because it makes me Zen, but because it slows the snow globe. It helps me start the day with clarity instead of chaos.
How Mindfulness Helps My ADHD (and Yours Too)
Mindfulness strengthens:
working memory
emotional regulation
shifting attention
reducing impulsive reactions
slowing the internal narrative
intention setting
grounding through overstimulation
Mindfulness isn’t a cure.
It’s a stabilizer.
A reset button.
A way of saying,
“Here I am. This is where my feet are. Let’s start right here.”
Final Thoughts
I’m learning to stop apologizing for the brain I have and start supporting it. I’m learning to let go of shame and perfectionism. I’m learning to laugh at myself with compassion instead of criticism.
I used to think my ADHD made me “less than.”
Now I know it makes me human.
And a damn good therapist.
If you’re like me—neurodivergent, perfectionistic, overwhelmed, brilliant, forgetful—the Rise & Thrive Challenge wasn’t just created for you.
It was created with you in mind.
Ready to start slowly, ground deeply, and thrive intentionally?
I’m doing it right alongside you.
