"Why Is This So Easy for Everyone Else?": 10 ADHD and Autism Habits That Shape My Everyday Life

This past year, I’ve often shared how my ADHD and autism diagnoses were life-changing. They finally explained decades of daily inner battles and outer misunderstandings that seemingly no one else around me experienced. 

This video by Meg, who runs the terrific YouTube channel I Am Autistic, Now What?, beautifully captures my lived experience. Her video with the cheeky title, “10 Habits That Instantly Tell Me You're Not ADHD?” explores ten everyday challenges encountered by many ADHDers.

I found myself either nodding along or wincing as certain points hit painfully close to home. So, I wanted to explore how each shows up in my own life, and maybe help others feel a little more seen.

1. Struggling to relax

Before I ventured down the ADHD and autism rabbit hole, I would’ve proudly done a song and dance about how well I could “relax.” I loved watching movies, writing, and acting to unwind. Then I started realizing my definition of 'relaxing' may be different from that of many neurotypicals. 

As a kid, I couldn’t just watch shows, I had to fight alongside the hero, jumping around in front of the TV until I got shushed. Or I’d rock and internally ‘interact’ with the show even when I was told to sit quietly on the couch.

I learned as I got older that being quiet was the appropriate way to watch a show or movie (especially in a theatre), but that didn't mean my brain was being quiet. Often, my brain was busy crafting its own version of the story. Even now, it often means I miss large portions of what’s happening because my brain is off on its own adventure.

This leads to the biggest part of what I've learned is the difference between neurotypical relaxing and ADHD 'relaxing'. The ability to do this mythic thing called 'turning off your brain'. I never understood the term and felt it must mean not questioning what you're watching or dialing down 75 furious thoughts to 20. I didn't realize it was actually a real thing that you could have no thoughts in your head and just mellow out.

I didn’t realize this was even a thing until my amazing wife, Emily, revealed that sometimes she just… doesn’t think about things. When she’s relaxing, her mind can go quiet; something that still feels like dark magic to me. Even now, as I take Concerta, the idea of nothing going on in the brain seems less realistic than unicorns prancing about in Skittle-covered coats.

There’s always a high-octane circus in my head. If I’m stressed or worried, it doesn’t stop until the issue is resolved. I usually need to journal or stim to process my thoughts before I can even think about moving on.

2. Zoning out

There wasn't an hour in elementary school where I didn't hear "Pay attention", "Stop daydreaming", or "Focus!" bellowed in my direction. As I got older, I got better at piecing together what was asked of the class. But there was still that dreaded moment of staring at a blank page, trying to avoid the tenth “Weren’t you listening?” from a classmate. Or I'd just write a poem instead, or I'd guess what we needed to do after scanning someone else's assignment (unless I was caught doing that and penalized for cheating or not focusing on my own work).

I'd say by high school, I got decent at puzzling what needed to be done by figuring out what class I was in or going through the piecemeal of notes I had cobbled together in my explosion that I called my binder. But boy oh boy, I don't know how many times I either suddenly forgot someone was talking to me or I was suddenly pulled out of Narnia to discover someone was asking me something or had been calling me for the past 5 minutes.

And to this day, if you're going to explain something verbally, either you'd better do it in a catchy song-and-dance routine while dressed like a Jedi, or I'm likely to have only caught 'Step one' and 'now you can do it' followed by panic, wondering why you randomly handed me a screwdriver.

3. Emotional Dysregulation

People who just met me during my teen years or older, or firmly under the acquaintance category, would often call me chill and easy-going. People who know me better have seen me riding an emotional roller coaster that long ago flew off the rails, yet won't stop racing. I realize the calm perception came from my at times detrimental commitment to 'people pleasing'. I'd bottle up my emotional feelings because, as a kid, I was often reprimanded or ridiculed for being 'too much', 'too sensitive', 'too intense', 'too dramatic', and 'too weird'.

Close friends and family have all been subjected to my long diatribe emails or in-person rants, or witnessed where I was 'flipping out' or 'melting down'. Much like I don't grasp what it is like to 'shut off a brain', I can't relate to not deeply feeling almost everything you encounter, or the idea that this feeling encompasses everything about you, and the sense that it is now who you will be forever (even though it isn't the reality). Sadness, anger, or fear is a heavy blanket that covers and weighs down your very being, and happiness, excitement, or passion is a turbo booster that causes you to fly.

As a kid, I was so excited about holidays or going on trips to places like amusement parks that I either got so ecstatic I'd literally pee myself, or many times I was so emotionally propelled I'd become sick. I see this sometimes in my kids now, and it absolutely baffles me that this isn't the lived experience for everyone, as it has always been how emotions have hit me. Overwhelmingly strong and inescapable, whether soaringly positive or gutter-level negative.

I recognize now that some of my people-pleasing traits came from survival and self-protection. Rejection has always felt like a blade slashing deep into my chest puncturing my heart, or at least, that one little criticism or remark would bounce around in my head for hours upon hours, and even when my wife tried to help by suggesting I let it go, it refused to release its grip until I either unleashed a rant or found a way to confront the emotions surrounding it. I honestly now can admit a lot of the rejection or criticism that stung was never intended in the way I received it. Unfortunately, it still doesn't change the physical and emotional way my body constantly responds.

The video referred to something labelled low frustration tolerance or the much gentler term discomfort anxiety. While I've learned to hide it externally most of the time, I will often at least have a deep internal 'freak out' over things like a website daring to have a second step authentication when my phone is all the way upstairs, or an unexpected change of plans comes along or my computer decides to load slower than how my brain wants to accomplish a task or suddenly realizing I don't have spaghetti sauce for the planned recipe. I used to feel so guilty that I couldn't "suck it up" or "roll with the punches", even though I realized life does go on. I now understand why my brain believes the world imploded over minor issues.

4. Misplacing Things

There was a reason throughout my childhood that I usually had two or three new pairs of gloves every year. Or why in my adult years I resorted to just using my coat pockets for hand warmth, because they were at least not misplaced (though my coats can be very good at playing 'hide and seek' if I dared to not take them off and hung them in the closet immediately). Much like Meg from the video, my wedding ring causes sensory issues, so it is usually only worn when we leave the house, and well, if I'm not wearing it outside the house, it means I didn't put it where it was supposed to be. And if I need to leave the house with keys, well, hopefully, I gave myself an extra 10 minutes (yeah, right!)

True tale, there was about six months where I had to borrow my parents' keys to their office, where I was working at the time. I had misplaced mine and started thinking that they must have fallen out of my pocket or gotten misplaced somewhere in the office. It turns out they had been hanging out in my son Everett's Halloween bucket because, hey, that is a fun place to be. Good thing we decided to use it again that year.

5. Careless Mistakes

I think I am a pretty good writer. This is a good thing, since I've made a career out of it. But if you've read my stuff for a long time, you'll be well aware that I have a habit of typos. Or where I just miss an entire word or sometimes several words. My brain will often zoom way ahead of my typing fingers, and this means words get left behind or my thoughts arrive jumbled on the page. Yet my brain knows what is supposed to be there, and claims it is there even after several proofreads. Proofreading is a big struggle for me. It no longer delivers the dopamine rush of creative work but demands deep focus and patience, both of which can feel draining. I am actually pretty decent at editing other people's work, but for my own, I'm tricked into missing many errors. Thank you, technology, for making that part easier in this modern age.

My lovely and amazing wife, Emily, will often get slightly annoyed by how long it takes me to read and fill out forms. You know why? Because I have a long and rich history of filling them out wrong or missing large parts because my brain just decides, "hey, we don't need to do that section."

You may guess that I also wasn't a master at taking tests, because of needing to take time to read a question and actually catch every detail. 

6. Impulsivity

As a kid, I was baffled to learn people still had Halloween candy when Christmas would approach. As an adult, my wife has pointed out many times how I constantly interrupt during a conversation or keep trying to finish people's sentences. 

The funny thing is how often this clashes with my autistic side, which needs routine or structure. Often, I'd get an idea in my head, definitely when it comes to career or creative projects, jump all in, and then suddenly my autism side would deal with it as too much or start panicking about it not being how it should be done. It has left many unfinished projects, or a constant internal struggle where I feel like two different warring people.

I am also well aware of how important a schedule and routine are, but also how much it can feel like a suffocating trap. I can be both wildly impulsive and completely rigid, often at the same time. It makes my head hurt trying to explain it, so if you’re confused too, you’re in good company.

7. Hyperfocus

One reason I once doubted I had ADHD is because it’s such a misleading name for the condition. It is less about a lack of attention and rather deficient in attention regulation. If a task feels dull, it can be physically painful, even headache-inducing, to focus on it for long. If it is something one cares about or brings joy, then you can zero in on it to the detriment of remembering to eat, go to the bathroom, or be aware of anything around you. Unfortunately, you can't choose what you hyperfocus on, but when you do, it feels like being lost in a trance.

I deeply relate to Meg's comment about how, when someone interrupts your hyperfocus or you need to change tasks that your entire body is often overwhelmed with anger or even searing pain as your muscles will tighten and your head pounds. I'll often need to take a few seconds to internally vent and curse before I can leave my hyperfocus and tend to the task that has disrupted it.

8. Poor Working Memory

My entire life, I'll be introduced to someone, and my brain will label them 'whosit' or 'whatstherename' almost immediately. If I am asked to do something and if I don't write it down, then I'll likely not remember it until I get yelled at for not doing it many hours later. And walking into a room only to forget why — that’s just part of life. If I made an appointment, I know it is either "yes" to the question, "Do you want me to write this down?" or I need to ask them to do it if the expectation is for me to actually attend. 

As my dad would often bemoan, I could remember every wrestling champion ever, but I couldn't remember the thing he just asked me to do five seconds ago. I partly blame this one on the fact that most ADHDers also have 75 things running through their brain, so if it doesn’t cause dopamine, it gets tossed aside.

Yes, I also relate to Meg that mental math, or even routine tasks that should be burned in my brain, just aren't that interested in sticking around for more than a second.

9. Feeling Dumb and Smart

One of the biggest challenges that haunted me my whole life was how I was supposedly a 'genius' at certain things, but completely crashed and burned at others that everyone else seemed to find simple. 

"Wasted genius."

"How are you so good at this thing but so horrible at this one?"

"If you only tried harder, you'd be as good at this as you were at that?"

I can't even start to list how many times I heard something similar to those statements. I was often praised for how brilliant I was at projects, presentations, or essays, but when it was test time — "but you knew these things 5 minutes ago, how did you suddenly forget them?"

Or no matter how much I try, I'll struggle to remember how to do a simple household task or what spice is best for what recipe. 

I'd be praised for having amazing insight or my ability to problem solve, but then wonder why I'd stare blankly when asked a simple math problem or an easy-to-do task.

I carried so much shame about ‘tricking’ people into thinking I was smart because of the ideas or concepts I could come up with, but really knew I was stupid because I kept forgetting easy scientific or mathematical concepts everyone knows.

10. Being Too Much

"Too obsessed"

"Too loud"

"Too talkative"

"Too fidgety"

"Too opinionated"

"Too weird"

"Too sensitive"

'Too' was a word I heard too much as a kid and often made me feel broken and stupid. I didn't want to be those things. As I got older, I bottled up a lot of my instincts. As a masking technique, I definitely learned to be quieter and more reserved, and if you met me in the last 20 years, that may be how you perceived me until I got comfortable with you; then I likely started interrupting you and raving about movies or Stephen King.

Moving Forward

Now I understand all these things, and that I never needed to feel embarrassed or ashamed. It’s hard to rediscover yourself after years of conforming and masking the parts of you that drew backlash. My hope is to slowly peel away that mask and start embracing who I am, and be proud of the strengths that come from both my autism and ADHD.

If you relate to any of these, I hope you’ll join me in unmasking, too.

What are some moments in your life that once brought you shame, but now you see were simply part of who you are?

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