Alright, buckle up, because this is about to be a wild ride through the inner workings of my brain, which, I assure you, can rival the plot twists of the most chaotic soap opera, and I am not proud of this. Let’s talk about AuDHD, my sometimes-infuriating, sometimes-brilliant companion in life. First things first: I have a tendency to go overboard. And I don’t mean a cute “oops, I sent too many emojis” kind of overboard—I mean full-blown Titanic-sinking levels of excess. And honestly, it’s equal parts hilarious and soul-crushing. Seems like today is a day for putting it all on the table.

Picture this: I’m trying to make someone laugh. It starts innocently enough with a funny image or a quirky meme. They chuckle (victory!). So, I think, “Hey, I’ve cracked the code to humour!” Which is hard because most humour doesn’t make sense to me. And before I know it, I’m bombarding them with a never-ending stream of memes, GIFs, and possibly that one video clip of a cat that’s both adorable and faintly unhinged. I’m in the zone. Until I’m not. Somewhere, the vibe shifts, and it hits me like a tonne of bricks. I’ve done it again. I’ve gone too far, crossed that elusive boundary of ‘funny’ into ‘please, do less.’ And let me tell you, the realization isn’t just awkward—it’s like being hit with the embarrassment freight train going full speed, it makes me nauseous and sometimes crying.

And boy, does my mind have a field day with that. It’s not a gentle nudge like, “Hey, maybe slow down next time.” Oh no, it’s more like, “Congratulations, you’ve officially made everyone hate you, and your social skills are now a dumpster fire.” Cue the spiral. It’s equal parts exhausting and disheartening, and it’s always followed by the desire to just dig a hole, crawl in, and stay there indefinitely.

Now, here’s the kicker: I wish I could say I’ve found the magic fix for this. Like, wouldn’t it be great if I could just flick a switch and turn off whatever part of my brain thinks “MORE IS ALWAYS BETTER”? But alas, life isn’t so simple. It’s like trying to stop a runaway train with a foam noodle—you can try, but it’s not going to end well. Sure, I’ve gotten better at catching myself before the train completely leaves the station, but it’s still a work in progress. It will always be a work in progress because it is a trait of how my brain works. Great in some situations, yet socially let’s just say every year I get timider with talking. Not because I am shy or timid, I am afraid of doing this very thing and withdraw or under share.

And oh, the self-esteem. Let’s talk about how spectacularly it gets shaken… well more like it meets C4 and TNT. When I’ve gone overboard, even if it’s just a smidge compared to the old days, my brain doesn’t care. It’s like, “Who are you kidding? You’re still a chaotic mess. You’re a fucking idiot you know better.” Worst part, that is a good day of commentary from my brain. I find myself replaying all those charming little phrases I’ve heard growing up, like my dad’s classic, “We could hook you up to a generator and you could power the city with how much you talk.” Or the ever popular, “You’re like the Energizer Bunny with how much you talk.” Now, if those had been said with a wink or a smile or not every single day many times a day, maybe they wouldn’t have felt like tiny verbal daggers. But no, they were delivered with the kind of seriousness that makes you want to shrink into the ground and maybe stay there forever.

And let’s not forget the gems from others, like, “You’ll never go far if you can’t get that mouth under control,” and “Those texts are too long; I’m not reading that,” or my personal favourite, “You share too much.” Oh, and a classic that really wins the prize for creativity: “With how much you talk, I’m surprised you’re so fat because I don’t know how you get food into that motor mouth of yours.” Truly inspiring, right? If it were an Olympic sport, I’m quite sure they’d win gold in the “most soul-crushing commentary” category. The worst part is these were the kinder comments I heard. Many from my own parents and other adults in my life growing up. I still run into it. I plain and simple drive people away when I go down this rabbit hole and I hate myself for it.

At one point, these comments got so deep under my skin that I went to the extreme opposite end of the spectrum and didn’t talk for over a year. A YEAR. Imagine that. Me, the chatterbox, the human embodiment of a runaway freight train of words, voluntarily zipping it for over twelve months. Was it effective? Sure, in the sense that I didn’t go overboard. But was it healthy? Oh, absolutely not. It was like trying to hold back a river with a sieve—awkward, uncomfortable, and utterly unnatural. Though there are days I wonder if people wouldn’t like me better if I didn’t speak or only just responded when spoken to. Otherwise just seen and not heard.

Here’s the thing, though: When I was working the medical field, people couldn’t even tell I’m different. I’m like a social ninja, effortlessly navigating conversations without a single misstep. Honestly, it’s a bit like having a superpower. But why, oh why, can’t I keep that up all the time? Why does my brain insist on throwing curveballs when I’m not talking with co-workers or patients with medical stuff? It’s like it wants to remind me, “Hey, don’t forget, you’re unique—and sometimes that uniqueness is a double-edged sword.” Even when I get to talking about medicine with what I know, I go way overboard. I info dump which is actually a thing but rarely appreciated or liked.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my brain. It’s quirky, creative, and capable of brilliance. But, as with anything, there are negatives. And this particular quirk—this tendency to go full throttle without realizing when to stop—is definitely one of them. It’s a tangled mess of impulsivity, overthinking, and a dash of chaos thrown in for good measure. But hey, it keeps life interesting, right? Maybe.

So, here’s why this happens. AuDHD doesn’t exactly come with a manual. It’s not like I woke up one day and thought, “Ah yes, today I shall master the art of balance and moderation!” Nope. Instead, it’s more like, “Let’s wing it and hope for the best!” And sometimes, winging it works. Other times, it leads to moments of sheer hilarity—or utter embarrassment. It’s a mixed bag, really.

The playful side of it is fun, though. I mean, who doesn’t love a good laugh? And I genuinely enjoy making people laugh, which is part of the problem. I get so caught up in the joy of the moment that I don’t see the warning signs—the subtle shift in their expressions, the slightly strained laugh that says, “Okay, this is getting to be a bit much.” By the time I catch on, the damage is done, and I’m left feeling like the human equivalent of a bull in an overcrowded china shop.

Laughter is a beautiful thing. It connects people, breaks down barriers, and makes life a little brighter. So maybe I’ll never perfect the art of moderation. Maybe I’ll always be slightly chaotic, a touch overwhelming, and just a teensy bit too much sometimes. But isn’t that part of the charm? After all, life would be pretty boring without a sprinkle of chaos and a whole lot of laughter. I just wish here I could control it better or see when I am going overboard because I hate how I feel after. I also hate how cruel my own brain gets with the commentary. It is not fun when the traits I love turn against me in an area I know is a problem and I can’t stop before it is to late way to often.

I have not failed to notice how people go quiet after I have started to talk or share stuff in groups. It is like I am the cops showing up at an underground rave. Left standing alone feeling like I am not wanted just tolerated when people don’t run off. I have even noticed those who didn’t seem to mind at first start slowly to withdraw and stop talking as much to me while trying to seem like nothing has changed. My mind spots patterns, sometimes these patterns don’t mean bad things yet when it comes to me interacting with people it is a huge fear. Every. Single. Time. I open my mouth or type a response.

At night I always worry about this and go over everything I have said and done picking it apart. Not what the others said or did but just me. Part of it probably is since my daughter got ill many people I knew pulled away and most pulled away when she passed away. So loneliness riding hard and I try to hard to connect with people and instead driving them away because I come off desperate, even if I am, I should not show this. It does more harm then good by far. I have lost count of how many times I have laid in bed crying because I stepped out of line. Growing up I needed the words said to me, now? Well I do a good enough job telling myself off to prevent any confidence or self esteem to build and instead I harm it. I hate it.

And you know what? That’s okay or so I try to tell myself. Because at the end of the day, I’m learning. I’m figuring out how to embrace the chaos without letting it consume me, how to celebrate my quirks without letting them define me, and how to love myself—even the parts that make me cringe sometimes. It’s a journey, and I’m on it, one meme, one laugh, one awkward moment at a time.

Though it never seems to end, it can send me into one hell of a spiral with depression. I climb out like always, but it leaves a mark, I withdraw more each time, I fear it more each time. I am meaner to myself each time. I have stopped being so mean or utterly stopped in so many other areas and yet this one, I havent been able to and it seems like that has made it worse when this happens.

So, if you ever find yourself on the receiving end of my chaotic antics, just know: it’s coming from a place of love, a place of wanting to connect, to share, to make you smile. And if I go too far, I promise, I’ll try to rein it in—eventually. I feel like this so often that I need to find a signal that my friends can use to say “knock it the fuck off” I need to, not want to but need to and then find a way to tell people about it without scaring them. Until then, brace yourself for the whirlwind that is me. Here on my site it works very well, direct interaction? Well, I think I have covered it pretty well what happens.

What are things you find you go to far with, or have gone to far with, how do you cope?