09/08/2025
I am a psychotherapist, and I have ADHD. That means attention isn’t a tidy apartment but a lively, sometimes loud street market: bright stalls, sudden distractions and the occasional stall-holder shouting for a buyer when I’m mid-thought. It’s a strange advantage, and a stubborn challenge, rolled into one.
In my world, attention span isn’t a single thing that’s either present or missing. It moves, swerves and reappears with a different rhythm. I can be absorbed in a client’s turn of phrase for a minute, then drift to the sound of a distant siren or the tapping of my own foot. I’ve learned to work with that tempo rather than against it: shorter segments, concrete aims, and a clock that’s visible in front of us, not hidden behind a screen of good intentions. My own attention is cyclical, high energy bursts followed by a dip, and I’ve trained myself to notice when I’m slipping and to invite a breather rather than pretend I’m still glued to the moment.
If you’re reading this as someone with ADHD, know this: attention is not a weight you carry. It’s a resource that shifts, and with it you learn to steer. My practice exists, in part, to model that adaptability, holding stillness when it matters, and letting the mind wander when it serves understanding. Attention, for ADHD, is a dance. A messy, honest, human dance, and I, with ADHD, keep learning the steps alongside my clients 💃🏻
With Love, Maggie 🌹
