10 Weird Behaviours That Make Sense to My ADHD Brain

Neurotypicals, don’t judge

As a child, I was freakishly good at masking my ADHD. From the outside, you could hardly tell there was something inherently not neurotypical about me.

I mean, I was a little forgetful, bumped into things a little too often (cracked my forehead because I ran straight into a window? average child behaviour), got upset a little too easily, and never knew how to manage my time, but hey. Children will be children. Right?

Nevermind that time I passed out from loud music, or how I always talked to myself, or how I learned sign language and hieroglyphics at 9 years old because I was bored. Nevermind struggling to make friends because my socialising was a little off, and who cared that I cried at the smallest criticism? I was just a sensitive kid. A smart, sensitive, shy kid who wasn’t great at fitting in.

Yeah, right.

Discovering I have ADHD has been the most helpful development of my adult life. But why, you might think, would anyone want to accept being neurodivergent, much less take pride in it?

ADHD has answered all my questions about myself. The constant struggles, shame, stress, the intense gut feeling that I was different, but didn’t know in what way, the constant failure to change, all of these finally acquired a name and definition, allowing me to not only stop fighting it, but also learn to cope better.

As I delved deeper into ADHD and how it feels to live with it, I’ve learned to embrace my odd behaviours and adopt solutions to everyday challenges, that actually make sense to my brain.

So, buckle up and let me take you through 10 very odd behaviours that I’ve stopped fighting and that sometimes help my ADHD brain deal with a world built for neurotypicals.

1. Hyperfocus

Learning sign language at 9 wasn’t just me being a smart kid. It was a sign of procrastinating like a pro and finding stimulation somewhere new. Welcome to ADHD hyperfocus.

ADHD brains need the dopamine of a new endeavour

From becoming obsessed with, say, art history (I was 10), to learning a new instrument (started and dropped piano in a record 5 weeks when I was 8), to finding a crafty hobby (origami, embroidery, quilling, jewellery making, sewing, you name it, I’ve tried it), ADHD brains need the dopamine of a new endeavour regularly.

Most hyperfocuses don’t stick. I pick up a hobby, learn the skill, allow it to dominate my life for a while, then completely forget about it. It wasn’t until I realised this is peak ADHD behaviour that I understood I wasn’t necessarily ‘good at everything’, as everyone used to tell me growing up. I was just an understimulated neurodivergent kid.

2. Sensory deprivation

Any external triggers, no matter how small, distract me from sleep and relaxation

To be at my best, I need sensory stimulation during the day (more on that in the next point) and sensory deprivation during the night, or when I try to unwind. I want complete darkness, no noise, absolutely no tactile stimuli, no movement, and not even the feeling of air around me (aside from, of course, to breathe).

I go to bed with earplugs in, two blankets on, one of which is extremely soft, to reduce tactile triggers, a pillow on my head, and sometimes even a blanket wrapped around my face. All that’s exposed are my nose and mouth. I meant it when I said I don’t want to feel the air around me. I know it’s weird. But I can’t relax otherwise. Any external triggers, no matter how small, distract me from sleep and relaxation.

3. Stimulation overload for peak productivity

I can’t bring myself to do any task without something to keep me engaged, like music, an audiobook, the TV on, or at least being in a busy environment.

I will be frozen staring at a wall if I don’t have some sort of entertainment

The weirdest way in which this behaviour manifests is when I cook, listen to a certain song, while singing a completely different song to keep myself entertained. It’s like circus for the brain.

When I say I need this to function, I genuinely mean it. It’s not a case of oh housework is boring, so I’ll listen to music to take my mind off. Oh no, I mean I will be frozen staring at a wall if I need to do something and don’t have any background entertainment.

4. Distraction nests

I work a typical 9–5, mostly from home, and when I tell you I can’t go on for 8 hours straight without getting distracted at least once every hour, I’m not kidding. I need my distraction nests: piles of whatever my latest hyperfocus involves, dotted around the house, so I can always pick something to do for 10 minutes while my brain rewires.

I have piles of knitting projects, my Tarot decks, books, and even digital distraction piles — a different browser window with Spotify, online shops, Medium, Scribd, and YouTube open at all times.

This might sound irresponsible or unprofessional, but the more I try to fight it, the deeper I sink into procrastination. So I decided to leave the guilt aside and give my brain what it needs for a little while, before returning to my pressing work tasks.

5. Singing all the bloody time

If my partner and I ever break up, my voice belting a random song from the 2000s at stupid o’clock in the morning will probably haunt him forever.

As I said before, I need entertainment to function. I can’t just sit in silence. So if the entertainment doesn’t happen to come from a device, I’ll make do on my own. I sing all the bloody time and I’m mostly unaware of it, realising I’m doing it only after my task is done and I need to look for my next distraction. I have the self-control not to do it in public, don’t worry.

6. Everything, everywhere, all at once

There’s a film with this title and it perfectly defines one of my two default factory settings. If my brain is in the mood for productivity, I will do everything in one go, usually quickly, usually with minimal chaos. But I mean everything. All my backlog of tasks, all the house chores, all the grocery shopping, all the laundry, all at once.

And if that means I’m walking around with an armful of laundry, a few empty cups to take into the kitchen hanging on each finger, and my laptop balanced under my chin, who are you to judge?

7. Nothing, nowhere, ever

And of course my second default factory setting is total paralysis. This usually happens when I have too many unclear tasks with loose timescales, too many options to spend my free time, or if there’s been a change in my routine.

I just can’t put myself in motion, no matter how hard I try. This used to be a huge source of shame before I learned to accept that it happens due to my executive dysfunction.

People with ADHD struggle to initiate tasks without the right motivation. We aren’t motivated by the importance of a task. We’re motivated by passion or urgency.

Executive dysfunction is like trying to move a car with the engine off: it’s fuelled by our low dopamine levels, time blindness (more on that next), and hypofocus — intense distraction.

8. Time blindness

Time is a key asset to our daily lives, right? It helps us be reliable, plan our priorities, cook our food just the right amount, and stay healthy.

Imagine living without the notion of time. Like a myth, you know time exists, but have no idea how to work around it. Welcome to time blindness, one of the biggest challenges of ADHD.

Time is a void for me. I know, loosely, how to manage it, because I’ve lived in my body for long enough to know what parameters my brain assigns to time. But I have no idea how long a certain time period is. If I don’t look at my watch, I don’t know how to approximate time. Ask me to do something for 10 minutes without checking the time and I’ll see you in 2 minutes.

This is why I’m always ridiculously early and when I try to plan against my time blindness, what a surprise, I’m late.

9. Random changes in conversation

When someone starts talking about a certain topic, say, the shortage of fresh produce in the UK, and I’m involved in the conversation, my mind will immediately go: shortage of produce, I don’t buy too much fresh produce at once anyway, produce in the UK is tasteless, I miss the tasty vegetables at home, oh! my mum said she made a delicious tomato soup — and because my mouth can’t keep up with my brain, I’ll just blurt out do you guys like tomato soup? in the middle of the conversation.

I struggle to keep track of conversations, and often fail to choose my moments, so I just go rogue. Most of my friends are used to me by now, but this is hard to manage in more formal, professional situations, which often makes me doubt everything I say or shuts me down completely, choosing instead to listen and not engage in conversation at all.

10. Freezing mid-sentence

While definitely weird, this is also probably the most annoying thing I do because of my ADHD. I start saying something and stop halfway through. Again, this is because my mouth can’t keep up with my brain, so I usually speak before thinking twice, then realise I either know the answer, the thing I’m about to say is irrelevant, or odd, and maybe I should stop.

All these little moments when I question myself make me a very chaotic conversationalist, and if I have to have an important, well-organised discussion, I need to try extremely hard and plan carefully what I’m going to say.

Being neurodivergent can be tricky in a world built for neurotypical brains. But all it means is that our brains function differently — with lower dopamine levels, extreme sensitivity, and poorer executive functions. What I’ve been finding helpful is setting expectations early on: letting people know that I have ADHD and am unmedicated. I don’t do this every time I meet someone, but I find it essential when I make new friends, or have one-to-one conversations with my managers.

If you’re neurotypical, which of these behaviours do you find the most difficult to understand? And if you’re a fellow ADHDer, can you relate?

Eliza Lita is a freelance writer based in the UK. She covers books and reading, health, fitness, lifestyle, and personal development. For more of her stories, please consider signing up for a Medium membership through her referral link.