My Mind, a Hand Grenade

ADHD isn’t quirky—it’s a relentless, messy, invisible storm that’s shaped my entire life.

People don’t really get what ADHD is.
Not properly. Not deeply.
They think it’s just being distracted. Forgetful. A bit hyper.
They make jokes about it. “Oh, I’m so ADHD today.”
But this thing has shaped every part of my life, and most of the time not in ways I’m proud of.

ADHD for me is a constant mental noise that never shuts off.
It’s waking up already overwhelmed. It’s being pulled in every direction and somehow still doing nothing.
It’s craving stimulation, then getting crushed by it.
It’s forgetting to eat, then bingeing out of nowhere.
It’s overthinking things that should be simple and ignoring things that actually matter.
It’s always feeling behind. Always feeling like I’ve let someone down. Mostly myself.

Procrastination isn’t me being lazy. It’s paralysis.
I want to do the thing. I know the thing needs done.
But my brain hits a wall, and the more I push, the worse it gets.
So I avoid. I scroll. I sleep. I disappear.
And then comes the guilt. And the shame.
Because I do care. I just don’t know how to move.

It’s affected everything.
Work. Friendships. Relationships.
I’ve blown chances. Walked away from people who mattered. Burned bridges not just out of anger, but out of exhaustion.
Not just burnt. I mean hand-grenaded.
Like I didn’t even leave the option of going back.

I’ve used drugs and alcohol to quiet it down. To feel level. To feel something.
Anything to stop the storm in my head.
And that made things worse. Obviously.
But when you don’t know what’s wrong with you, you look for anything that feels like control.

Even now, when I understand ADHD more, I still feel immature.
I still overreact. I still shut down.
My fight or flight kicks in at the tiniest thing and suddenly I’m either exploding or gone.
It makes relationships hard.
It makes life hard.

Some days I’m flying. Creative. Energised. Focused.
Other days I can’t even reply to a text.
I can go from hyper-productive to lying in bed wondering what’s wrong with me in the space of an hour.
Sadness shows up out of nowhere. Just hits. And I can’t explain it.

People say things like “You just need to be more organised” or “You need more discipline.”
They don’t see how hard I’m trying.
Trying to show up. Trying to care. Trying to finish anything. Trying to stay afloat.

This isn’t just about being forgetful or messy.
It’s about losing time. Losing people. Losing parts of yourself.
It’s about constantly feeling like you're not enough, even when you’re giving everything you’ve got.

And now—even my photography, the one thing that’s always made sense, feels like it’s starting to slip.

I still love it. Still need it.
But lately, I can feel the motivation draining.
The camera’s there, right where I left it, but I walk past it like it owes me money.
No big dramatic reason—just a heavy meh sitting in my chest saying “maybe tomorrow.”
And then it says it again. And again.

Is it the ADHD? Burnout? A bad week?
I don’t know. My brain’s like a dodgy washing machine—sometimes it spins, sometimes it floods, sometimes it just gives up and flashes a red light.
What I do know is this: photography has been one of the only things that ever gave me purpose.
It slowed me down. Helped me focus.
Made the chaos feel quiet—even if only for a shutter click.

So the idea of losing that? That scares the hell out of me.
I’ve lost enough already. People. Jobs. Direction. Control.
So if this fades too—if photography starts to feel like one more thing I can’t keep hold of—what’s left?

And yeah—maybe you can tell I’m on a bit of a downer just now.
Feeling low. Frustrated. Properly raging with myself, if I’m honest.
Not in a dramatic way—just that slow-burn, fed-up-with-myself kind of anger.
The kind that simmers all day, even when I’m doing nothing wrong.
But that’s ADHD too, isn’t it?
That guilt for feeling like this, like I should’ve caught it earlier. Should’ve powered through. Should’ve done better.
I know I’m being hard on myself—but that doesn’t stop me doing it.

Some days I can manage it. Other days it manages me.
Today? It’s got the upper hand.

Maybe this is just a dip. Maybe I’ll find my rhythm again.
Maybe I’ll grab the camera and go document how crap I feel, just to be honest with it.
Maybe that’s what I need to do—photograph the mess instead of hiding from it.

If you’re reading this and thinking same, then cheers—welcome to the club. Bring snacks.
And if you’re not? Maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have a brain constantly looking for the nearest exit.

But me? I’ll keep trying.
Trying to hang onto the one thing that’s helped me feel like myself.
Because photography has given me more than most people ever will.
And I’m not ready to let it go.