Small Talk, Side Quests & ADHD Realness

Wellbeing Therapy Hut Admin
May 29
3 min read

As many of you know, I live with both ADHD and PMDD. And while I’ve developed some great coping strategies for when things feel dysregulating, overwhelming, or overstimulating, some days are just… hard.

Don’t get me wrong—I genuinely love my ADHD. It might sound strange to say, but there’s so much about it that I appreciate and even admire. The spontaneity, the creativity, the way I can hyperfocus and deep-dive into things that matter—these are the things that help me run TWTH and support my clients in ways that feel aligned, responsive, and real. It’s part of what makes me me.

But even with all of that, there are still days where the weight of it is too much. Days where I can’t quite access the tools I’ve developed, or where the overstimulation drowns out everything else. The days when everything feels like a fire drill, but no one gave me the evacuation plan.

On one of those days recently, I found myself spiralling. I couldn’t sit still long enough to read (which I often find grounding), and trying to force myself only added to the stress. There were a million side quests calling for my attention—some urgent, some imagined, all overwhelming. I was buzzing with that specific brand of ADHD urgency: everything needs doing right now, but my brain can’t pick a starting point.

That’s when I remembered Small Talk by Richard and Rox Pink. I’d seen their videos pop up on social media before—funny, insightful snippets that always left me feeling a bit more seen. I decided to give the audiobook a try, and honestly, it was the perfect call.

Listening to their words was like sitting with friends who get it. Who don’t need everything explained. There was humour, yes, but also a deep honesty and vulnerability that made me exhale in relief. It reminded me that I wasn’t late, scattered, or forgetful because I didn’t care or wasn’t trying—it was ADHD. Plain and simple. The overwhelm, the time blindness, the 3-hour attempt to do a 15-minute task—it all made sense.

As I listened, I noticed how many of those sneaky ADHD lies cropped up—those old beliefs that I’d thought I’d shaken off:“You’re lazy.”“You’re disorganised.”“You’re too emotional.”“You can’t be trusted to follow through.”

Those gremlins still linger sometimes, even now. But hearing them named, challenged, and reframed felt strangely therapeutic. It was a moment of real clarity—one of those rare times when you can actually feel how far you’ve come.

That’s part of what keeps me so passionate about the work I do. Supporting other neurodivergent people isn’t just about tools or tips (though those matter too). It’s about sitting with someone else’s gremlins, hearing the story behind the behaviour, and being able to say: “I know that feeling. I’ve been there too.”

There’s something powerful about being witnessed in your experience, without judgement. That moment where someone tells you you're not broken, just wired differently—and that wiring can be beautiful, too.

When I work with clients, I aim to be that witness. To hold space for the messy, overwhelming, misunderstood parts and to help them untangle what’s really going on. I love being the person who can offer reassurance, validation, and a gentle reframe. Because I remember what it felt like to believe it was just me.

And that’s why I love my job. Not just because of what I get to do, but because of who I get to be for people. A sounding board, a mirror, a safe place to land. There’s real healing in those connections.

So if you’re navigating life with ADHD—or love someone who is—I really recommend checking out Small Talk. Whether you read it or listen, it’s full of those “ah, it’s not just me” moments. And sometimes, that alone can be enough to lift the weight a little.

Because the truth is, you’re not alone. You never were.