There’s something both humorous and deeply frustrating about sitting down to write an important email, only to find yourself, ten minutes later, halfway through reorganising your bookshelves. Or Googling “how long does pesto last once opened?” with no recollection of how you got there.
There’s a particular kind of chaos that comes with living inside an ADHD brain. For me, it’s often felt like trying to hold a handful of sand while the wind blows through my fingers. As a counsellor, I spend my days helping others create calm, clarity, and structure. Yet inside my own head, things don’t always follow a neat, linear path.
One minute, I’m engaged in a task, fully intending to see it through. The next, my attention is hijacked by a thought, a sound, or a feeling that pulls me elsewhere. Just like that, the original task vanishes into the mental fog.
Take this morning, for example. I sat down to write a quick email response to a new referral. Just a few lines confirming availability and offering a first appointment. Simple. Straightforward. Yet halfway through the second sentence, I found myself opening a new tab to look up train times. Why? No idea. Then I noticed the plants on the windowsill looking a bit dry. So I went to water them, saw the recycling needed taking out, and by the time I came back to my laptop, the email was still blinking at me. Half-finished. Forgotten.
This is the reality of ADHD brain interruptions. They’re not always dramatic or visible. They show up in small, quiet ways, where focus splinters. The intention to do one thing is suddenly replaced by another urge, thought, or distraction. What might look like procrastination or disorganisation from the outside is, in fact, a brain doing what it does. It fires off in multiple directions, following sparks of curiosity or anxiety wherever they land, all without permission.
The Problem with Pausing
The tricky part is that ADHD interruptions rarely feel like a decision. I didn’t choose to stop writing that email. It felt as though something else hijacked my attention and sent me off course before I noticed what was happening. That “pause” can last minutes, hours, sometimes days if I’m not careful.
Tasks pile up. Admin gets delayed. Lunch gets skipped. Somewhere along the way, there’s a creeping guilt. “Why can’t I just finish one thing?” But guilt doesn’t help. It only adds another layer to the spiral.
How It Shows Up in Work
As a counsellor, these interruptions don’t just affect paperwork or emails. They affect the rhythm of my day:
- I’ll start writing notes from a session, only to drift into planning what to cook for tea.
- I’ll begin checking messages, then get lost in a research rabbit hole for CPD courses I probably won’t register for.
- Even eating becomes something I forget to prioritise. I’ll realise at 3pm that I haven’t eaten because I’ve been bouncing between tasks all morning.
ADHD doesn’t stop because I’m in a helping profession. It doesn’t wait at the door of the counselling room. It comes in with me, uninvited but ever-present. The key is learning how to work with it rather than against it.
Finding My Way Through
Over time, I’ve gathered a few simple strategies. They’re not perfect solutions, but they help me stay on track most of the time:
- Capture, Don’t Chase
Instead of chasing every new thought, I jot it down. A simple note beside me is enough to hold the idea without losing focus. - One Window Open
If I’m writing an email, everything else closes. No extra tabs, no distractions. - Timers and Tea Breaks
I work in short bursts, usually 25 minutes, followed by a short break. Making a cup of tea helps reset my attention. - Visual Reminders
A simple note on my screen reads: “Finish before you start something new.” I don’t always follow it, but it helps. - Don’t Wait to Eat
Keeping simple food nearby prevents the crash that comes from forgetting to eat.
A Gentle Note on Compassion
This isn’t about fixing myself. It’s about understanding how I work. My brain notices more. It shifts quickly. It wanders. That can be frustrating, but it also allows me to tune in deeply, especially when I’m with clients.
Many of the people I work with feel the same. Overwhelmed. Scattered. Unsure how to focus. Being able to say “I understand” comes not just from training, but from lived experience.
ADHD doesn’t mean I’m not capable. It means I need a different route. And sometimes, a few more snacks.
So if today you’ve half-written an email, reheated the same cup of coffee three times, or walked into a room and forgotten why, you’re not alone. Your brain works differently. That’s okay.
Let’s come back to what we started. One small return at a time.
Sincerely Yours,
Paul
Transparency Notice
This blog has had AI assistance in formatting. All content has been written and reviewed by the author.