This isn’t a guide. It’s a glimpse—into the loops, the leaps, and the quiet corners of a brain that rarely rests, but always feels.
I used to think I was just lazy. I always prioritized comfort over the tasks I needed to finish. Then I stumbled across a video on Instagram that said people with ADHD often don’t feel the sensation of missing someone. It made me pause. I started thinking about myself—how I move through life, how I feel (or don’t feel), and how I’ve always struggled with certain things.
After watching that video, I couldn’t stop thinking. So, I did what I always do when something hits close to home: I researched. I read articles, watched more videos, and quietly compared the symptoms to my own habits. And the more I learned, the more I saw myself—not in the loud, hyperactive stereotype, but in the quiet, distracted, comfort-seeking patterns I’ve lived with for years.
So, here’s my story. The not-so-glamorous side.
When I was a child, I didn’t think anything was wrong. Most kids hate chores, right? I hated washing dishes at home—but oddly, I enjoyed doing it at my friend’s house or at my relatives’ place. I don’t know why, but our own kitchen always felt heavier. I also hated cleaning. And when I did clean, I’d get distracted by old photos or random things I found in the closet. Finishing chores was always a struggle because my attention would drift. But gardening? That was different.
You’d always find me in the backyard planting vegetables or flowers. I loved the idea of harvesting something and giving food to my family. It made me feel useful. I loved hearing my parents praise me for it. I loved cooking, too. And I felt hurt when someone didn’t eat what I made—even if I knew they just didn’t like vegetables. I know that sounds petty, but it felt personal. Like they were rejecting my effort.
My observations deepened when I moved into the church convent during college. I lived there for six years, sponsored by a priest. I still hated cleaning—unless it was the kitchen or a specific task I was assigned. If you’re wondering what I contributed while living there for free: I painted. I painted all 12 apostles, the Virgin Mary (three times, in different titles), and St. Joseph (twice). I also did t-shirt printing for church events.
But here’s what I noticed: I always delayed starting a painting. And once I started, I struggled to finish. I avoided stress by choosing comfort, but the delay just created more stress. I’d lie awake thinking about when I should start or finish. Sometimes the priest would scold me for the delay. And I knew it was my fault. But I couldn’t help it. My body just wouldn’t cooperate until the tasks piled up and became overwhelming.
That video I mentioned earlier—it hit me. It’s true. I rarely feel like I miss someone, even my family. I adapt easily to new environments. My family lives far from where I work, so I don’t see them often. But I do miss my dog, Coco. We were together for almost four years before I sent him home to my province. I miss him deeply when I think of him. But then I forget I miss him—maybe because of how my brain works. I’m always distracted by everything.
Anyway, this blog is already long, so I’ll stop here and continue another time. Thank you for reading. I hope you found something interesting—or at least familiar—in my story.
See you again, Daydreamers.
—Jiezza
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