I Spent 43 Years Thinking My Brain Was Normal. Then I Read a Book

ADHD, unfinished projects, unexpected superpowers, and finally understanding the guy who's been living inside my head.

For most of my life, I assumed everyone's brain worked like mine.

Apparently, that was an ambitious assumption.

I thought everyone had seventeen conversations happening simultaneously in their head. I thought everyone could become completely obsessed with something for three weeks, learn everything about it, and then abandon it because something shinier came along.

I thought everyone walked into a room, forgot why they were there, discovered something else that needed doing, and emerged forty minutes later having accomplished absolutely nothing they originally intended.

Turns out, not everyone does that.

Some people apparently just... do things.

They decide to do something.

And then they do it.

In order.

Without starting six other projects.

Frankly, that sounds suspicious.

The Book That Explained My Entire Life

I came across a book called ADHD Is Awesome: A Guide to (Mostly) Thriving with ADHD by Penn and Kim Holderness.

I'd seen the Holderness Family's videos before. They're funny, relatable, and have a remarkable ability to make ordinary family chaos entertaining.

So I figured I'd enjoy the book.

What I wasn't expecting was to recognize myself on practically every page.

I'd read something and think, "Wait. I do that."

Then another.

"Hang on. I do that too."

And another.

"HOW THE HELL DO THESE PEOPLE KNOW ME?"

By the time I finished, I felt like someone had been secretly documenting my life and decided to publish their findings.

Without asking permission.

Rude.

But also incredibly helpful.

The book didn't give me a medical diagnosis. What it gave me was something I hadn't realized I needed.

An explanation.

For the first time, I had a framework for understanding behaviors I'd spent decades assuming were just personality quirks.

And suddenly, a lot of things made sense.

The Problem With Having a Ferrari Brain and Bicycle Brakes

One of the things I appreciated about the book was how it challenged the way we talk about ADHD.

Penn Holderness writes:

"We do not suffer from a deficit of attention. Just the opposite. We have an abundance of attention!" Goodreads

That description hit home.

Because I've never felt like I couldn't pay attention.

I can pay attention like a professional.

Give me something interesting, and I'll disappear into it for hours.

I can build an entire website, learn a complicated technical concept, or spend an afternoon studying real estate law without noticing that the sun has gone down.

But ask me to complete a boring administrative task?

Suddenly, my brain becomes a toddler refusing to put on shoes.

It's not that I don't want to do it.

I genuinely do.

I understand its importance.

I know there will be consequences if I don't.

But knowing something needs to be done and getting my brain to cooperate are sometimes two very different things.

And that can be incredibly frustrating.

Especially when you're an adult with a job, a marriage, two children, and approximately eleven thousand responsibilities.

The Part Nobody Sees

I joke about having 47 hobbies.

I joke about forgetting things.

I joke about having the attention span of a golden retriever at a squirrel convention.

But there's another side to it.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by things that shouldn't be overwhelming.

Sometimes I struggle to start something simple while having absolutely no problem tackling something incredibly complicated.

Sometimes I forget things that matter to people I love.

And sometimes I get frustrated with myself because I know I'm capable of so much more than whatever I'm managing to accomplish that particular day.

That's the part that isn't funny.

Because when you're a husband, father, and employee, your struggles don't exist in isolation.

They affect other people.

And explaining that your brain works differently doesn't magically erase the consequences.

I've had to learn that understanding my ADHD-related patterns and taking responsibility for my actions aren't mutually exclusive.

I can acknowledge that something is difficult for me.

I can also work on making it better.

Both things can be true.

Apparently, I've Been Managing This Thing for Years

Here's the part that really surprised me.

As I read about different strategies for managing ADHD, I realized I was already doing many of them.

I just didn't know why they worked.

I make lists.

Lots of lists.

I organize information visually.

I break complicated projects into smaller pieces.

I build systems that automate repetitive tasks.

I try to make boring things interesting.

When I need to learn something, I turn it into a game, a story, or a challenge.

And when something isn't working, I usually try to redesign the entire process rather than force myself to keep doing it the same way.

Which, admittedly, occasionally results in me building a complete software application to avoid filling out a spreadsheet.

But the spreadsheet gets filled out eventually.

And now there's a database.

You're welcome.

What fascinated me was realizing these weren't random habits.

They were strategies I'd developed over decades of trial and error.

I'd been adapting to my brain without knowing that's what I was doing.

The book helped me recognize those strategies and become more intentional about them.

The Superpowers Come With Some Annoying Terms and Conditions

I don't want to pretend ADHD is some magical gift that makes everything wonderful.

It isn't.

There are genuine challenges.

But I also don't want to ignore the things I appreciate about how my mind works.

I'm curious.

I'm creative.

I love solving problems.

I can get intensely excited about learning something new.

I see connections between ideas that sometimes surprise even me.

And I genuinely enjoy making people laugh.

My brain can take a completely ordinary situation and turn it into something ridiculous.

Which explains approximately 90% of this website.

I don't know whether every one of those qualities comes from ADHD, my personality, or some combination of both.

And honestly, I don't particularly care.

They're parts of me that I like.

I don't want to lose them.

I just want to get better at managing the parts that make life harder.

I'm Still Learning

Reading ADHD Is Awesome didn't suddenly fix everything.

I still forget things.

I still procrastinate.

I still have days when my brain feels like someone opened forty-seven browser tabs and one of them is playing music, but I can't figure out which one.

I still get overwhelmed.

And I still occasionally find myself standing in the kitchen wondering why I came downstairs.

But something important changed.

I stopped assuming every struggle was a character flaw.

That doesn't mean I stopped holding myself accountable.

It means I started asking better questions.

Instead of, "Why can't I just do this?"

I started asking, "What would make this easier for me to do?"

Instead of, "Why am I so bad at remembering things?"

I started asking, "What system can I put in place so I don't have to rely on remembering?"

Instead of trying to force myself into someone else's definition of productivity, I started paying more attention to what actually works for me.

And that shift has been incredibly valuable.

The Guy I've Always Been

I'm 43 years old.

I'm a husband.

I'm a father of twins.

I have a career, responsibilities, hobbies, ambitions, and a ridiculous number of unfinished ideas.

For a long time, I thought becoming a better version of myself meant changing the way my brain worked.

Now I'm starting to think it means understanding it.

I don't need to become someone who only has one interest.

I don't need to stop being curious.

I don't need to apologize for being enthusiastic about things.

I just need to keep learning how to balance those qualities with the responsibilities and people who matter to me.

And I think that's something worth celebrating.

Because for all the frustrations, distractions, and unfinished projects, I genuinely like who I am.

I like my curiosity.

I like my creativity.

I like the fact that I can get excited about something completely ridiculous.

I even like that my brain occasionally takes the scenic route to a destination everyone else reached twenty minutes ago.

Sometimes the scenic route is more interesting.

Sometimes it leads to an entirely different destination.

And sometimes I end up in the kitchen holding a screwdriver, wondering where my coffee went.

Progress isn't always linear.

Neither is my train of thought.

But I'm getting better at understanding both.

I spent most of my life trying to figure out why my brain wouldn't work the way I expected.

Turns out, the more useful question was how to make my life work with the brain I've got.

And that has made an enormous difference.

Anyway, I should probably wrap this up.

I have seventeen things I need to accomplish today.

I've written them all down.

I've prioritized them.

I've even color-coded them.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I've just had a fantastic idea for a new website.

Goddammit.

---

A Book Worth Reading

ADHD Is Awesome: A Guide to (Mostly) Thriving with ADHD
By Penn Holderness and Kim Holderness (2024)

I don't recommend books lightly, but this one genuinely changed the way I understand myself.

It's funny, accessible, and filled with practical ideas for navigating life with ADHD. Penn and Kim combine their personal experiences with research and professional perspectives, without making the whole thing feel like a medical textbook. The Holderness Family

If you've ever wondered why your brain seems to operate differently from everyone else's, I think it's worth reading.

And if someone you love has ADHD, it might help you understand their experience a little better.

Learn more about ADHD Is Awesome and find a copy →

One important note: Recognizing yourself in a book isn't the same as receiving a clinical diagnosis. If you suspect you have ADHD, a qualified healthcare professional can help you explore that possibility.