ADHD in Women, Or Why My Brain Is a Computer with 87 Tabs Open, All Buffering

I came. I saw. I forgot what I was doing and cried in my car.

If you’re a woman who’s ever put your phone down mid-text and never found it again (until it rang from inside the fridge) welcome. You might have ADHD. Or what I like to call: Hot Mess Brain with Bonus Features.

We’re not talking about the bouncing-off-the-walls kid stereotype. No, no. Female ADHD is the ✨limited edition✨ adult version, complete with:

Olympic-level procrastination, 3,000 unfinished projects, emotional breakdowns because your sock feels weird, and a deep, soul-crushing shame spiral because someone asked you to “just make a list.”

ADHD in Women: The Sneaky Ninja Edition

When we were little, people didn’t notice. We weren’t “bad.” We were weirdly talkative, always doodling, and somehow acing tests but still losing our backpack inside of our own house.

Instead of getting diagnosed, we got called:

“So creative!”

“Such a chatterbox!”

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Spoiler alert: We weren’t dramatic. We were literally having a full-blown executive function meltdown because we had three assignments, zero clue where our planner went, and the overwhelming urge to alphabetize our nail polish instead of doing any of it.

Adulthood Hit Different

Fast forward to adulthood, and now you’re:

Crying over a dirty dish. Forgetting your kid’s field trip form (again). Hyperfocusing on a new hobby you’ll abandon in six days. Paralyzed by an email that’s been sitting in drafts since the Bush administration.

And everyone around you is like, “Just be more organized!”

Girl. I tried to be organized. I bought six planners. I even color-coded them. You know where they are? Under my bed. Next to the dumbbells I swore I’d use during my “fitness era.”

You’re Not Lazy, Your Brain Just Thinks It’s in a DJ Booth

ADHD brains love dopamine. We crave stimulation. That’s why we can’t clean our room … unless we trick ourselves into a 12-hour cleaning montage with music, snacks, and existential dread.

Our emotions? Turned up to 11. We cry at dog videos, spiral after one passive-aggressive text, and feel personally attacked by to-do lists.

We also love:

Interrupting people (sorry, I just had a THOUGHT and I must SHARE IT), re-reading the same sentence 8 times and still not knowing what it said, starting a new life plan at 2:34 a.m. and forgetting it by morning.

Coping Mechanisms? I’ve Got Memes and Magic

Here’s how I survive:

Use timers like I’m defusing a bomb. Pretend I’m on a reality show called “Will She Remember to Eat?” Surround myself with people who don’t judge me for sending 12 chaotic texts in a row because I forgot what I was saying halfway through. Forgive myself when my brain does That Thing™ again.

Final Thoughts (Before I Forget Them)

ADHD in women is real. It’s messy. It’s misunderstood. And it’s often missed for YEARS.

But here’s the deal: You’re not broken. You’re brilliant, hilarious, compassionate, and operating on a whole different frequency.

One minute you’re crying in the grocery store, the next you’re writing a novel in one sitting. That’s not a flaw—it’s your sparkle.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go finish that thing I started six days ago … or start something new entirely. Who knows? ADHD is an adventure.

If you relate to this blog post, you should pick up You Were Never Broken.