The Space Between Focus and Flow: Living with a Neurodivergent Mind
There’s a moment that happens when you’re trying to focus — a quiet hum before distraction arrives. You feel yourself almost there: on the edge of flow, about to sink into what you’re doing.
And then — a sound, a thought, a flash — and it’s gone.
The task sits waiting.
Your body feels heavy and restless all at once.
And somewhere in the back of your mind, that quiet voice says, Why can’t I just do this?
The Invisible Work of a Neurodivergent Mind
Living with ADHD, Autism, and other forms of neurodivergent often means doing work that isn’t visible to anyone else.
Before you even start a task, your brain has already been running a marathon — filtering sounds, sorting sensations, negotiating motivation, regulating emotions, and fighting the gravitational pull of everything that feels urgent, interesting, or overwhelming.
It’s not laziness.
It’s a nervous system tuned to a different rhythm — one that responds more strongly to curiosity, emotion, and novelty than to routine or reward.
And while that rhythm can make certain parts of life harder — deadlines, organization, follow-through — it also brings depth, creativity, and empathy that can’t be faked or forced.
The Myth of “Just Try Harder”
People often think ADHD is a matter of effort or discipline. If only you could find the right planner, or the perfect morning/night routine, or finally “get it together.”
But the truth is: more often than not, effort isn’t the problem.
You’re already trying so hard — maybe too hard. You’ve learned to mask, to overcompensate, to make chaos invisible.
The exhaustion isn’t from lack of trying. It’s from the invisible effort of trying to operate in a world that wasn’t built for your nervous system.
The Beauty of How Your Brain Works
Neurodivergent minds are often nonlinear — they don’t move in straight lines. They make connections between things that don’t seem related. They feel time differently, experience emotions more vividly, and sense patterns where others see noise.
That can feel like too much sometimes. But it’s also what makes you intuitive, creative, perceptive — the kind of person who feels the world deeply, who sees the layers others often miss.
Learning to live well with ADHD isn’t about forcing your brain into someone else’s mold. It’s about understanding your unique rhythm — and designing your life, your work, your self-care — to move with it, not against it.
Compassion as Structure
Structure doesn’t have to mean rigidity. For neurodivergent folks, structure can be something that holds you gently — a rhythm that keeps you anchored when your mind drifts.
It can look like:
Using external supports (timers, lists, music) to reduce mental clutter
Creating visual cues that bring tasks back into awareness
Building body-based awareness — noticing what overstimulation feels like in your chest or hands
Choosing compassion over criticism when your energy or focus shifts
It’s about creating a relationship with Self, where self-compassion isn’t a reward for productivity, but the foundation that makes consistent energy possible.
A Thought to Hold Onto
Maybe the goal isn’t to control your mind,
but to understand its language.
To listen for what draws your focus,
to notice what calms your body,
to let curiosity be the map instead of the distraction.
Your brain isn’t broken.
It’s just speaking in a dialect of depth, intensity, and movement —
and therapy can be a place where that language is honored, not fixed.
If You’re Learning to Work With (Not Against) Your Brain
Working with ADHD or a neurodivergent mind can feel overwhelming, exhausting, and sometimes isolating. I get it — I have ADHD, a learning disorder, and many of my closest relationships are with other neurodivergent folks. I know what it’s like to navigate the world with a mind that doesn’t always follow the typical rules.
In therapy with me, we slow down and meet your mind where it is. We pay attention to how your attention, energy, and emotions move through you, without pressure or judgment.
In my Fort Collins office — and virtually across Colorado — the space is flexible and comforting. You can keep your shoes on or off, put your legs up, choose whether to make eye contact, or simply sit in silence. There are no rules about how therapy “should” look or feel — we go at your pace and honor your processing style.
Together, we explore ways to understand your mind, reduce self-blame, and create safety and clarity in your daily life. Small shifts, gentle strategies, and compassionate curiosity can make space for more ease, connection, and insight.
If this feels like it could be a safe space for you, I’d be honored to walk alongside you — as a therapist, as someone with lived experience, and as someone who understands the neurodivergent experience. Reach out to schedule a free 30-min consultation.
