Being AuDHD makes me a better writer

'There was just too much. Too many thoughts. Too many feelings. Never enough space for everything that was bursting inside of me,' writes Ella Thompson. Now, she pours it all into her writing.

For years, it felt like my brain was working against me. I was detached from it, burdened by it. A constant, exhausting feeling that I was never quite in sync with myself.

My neurodivergence felt like an unwanted plus-one - the sibling your parents insisted on bringing along to your childhood endeavours, if you will - that was somehow turning even the simplest plans into hard work.

There was just too much. Too many thoughts. Too many feelings. There was never enough space for everything that was bursting inside of me.

I didn’t know what to do with it all. Where to put it.

Until I put it all down. I gave it somewhere to be, and I started to see my AuDHD as less of a burden, and more as a blessing. The chaos turned into passion. Emotions turned into writing that people felt seen in.

I saw how powerful my AuDHD was; not something working against me, but something I could work with.

Something that, in its own way, was making me a better writer.

Focus, but make it hyper

As a child, my parents would often be told that I was extremely bright, until I wasn’t. And then I just wanted to daydream or talk. “If we could just get her to focus…” they would say. And then we would get home, and I couldn’t be torn away from writing whatever novel I was writing at the time.

When I’m focused, I’m focused. It’s just that sometimes I don’t have a choice on what it’s on. And, unfortunately for my childhood academic grades, it was never maths.

This laser focus has only strengthened with age. And when given something really juicy to focus on, my AuDHD thrives. Therefore, so does my writing. I simply cannot think of anything else until I’ve put it into words.

2,000-word article done in one sitting? No problem.

Bladder is about to burst from holding it for the past four hours at my desk? Don’t care.

My autism gave me a deadline for this article, and my ADHD is going to get me there.

The words pour out of me, translating parts of myself that I deemed unintelligible. Connecting with people I didn’t think understood. Every project is a passion project. Every article is from the heart. Every word is crafted with the very focus that my childhood teachers could only wish I had.

I had it, more than most. I just didn’t know how to use it.

Thoughts a plenty

There is never quiet in my brain. I don’t know how people aren’t bombarded by their own thoughts every second of every day. I recently found out that some people don’t have internal monologues… I do not relate to this.

My internal monologues have internal monologues. It’s a neurodivergent Zoom call in there, but everyone has awful wifi and no social cues.

However, this means I always have something to write about, because I always have something I’m thinking about. I can’t imagine a time when I will run out of article ideas. Everything is material if you’re AuDHD enough.

It’s almost frustrating that the ideas don’t turn off. A big part of my nighttime routine is finally feeling like I’m about to fall asleep, and then thinking of an idea I have to write down… and the cycle continues a good three or four times.

Sometimes I have so many ideas that they start to overlap. They jump over one another in a scrambling chaos. Sometimes I open my notes app to see lines upon lines of new ones… all without any context or the end of their sentences. I’m sure some of them were extraordinary ideas. We’ll just never know.

They are, without fail, creative. Very outside the box. Sometimes so outside the box they’re borderline unusable. Occasionally outside my abilities entirely. But always creative.

An ocean of emotion

I’ve always felt as though I was too much. That I felt too much. I could never understand how people weren’t cracking under the weight of everything they were feeling.

Turns out some people’s nervous systems don’t react the same way to being held at gunpoint as they do to a change in someone’s tone. Who knew?

I feel everything extremely deeply. This means the burnout, the exhaustion, the overwhelm. But it also means the passion, the drive, the love. It means my writing is a museum of every wave I have managed to ride without drowning, every current that has taken me under. Every moment that my head has come up for air.

It’s in there, in my words and in the way way they leave me and resonate with whoever needs it.

Of course my AuDHD comes with its challenges to my writing. The hyperfocus can leave me neglecting myself entirely, the endless ideas can leave me overwhelmed, the emotions can paralyse me so that I can’t write at all.

Yes, my AuDHD is great for writing. But it’s also great for burnout. And exhaustion. And screaming into a pillow.

Sometimes I need to practise mindfulness (keyword practise, not perfect), and distract myself by doing something else. Sometimes I need to take regular breaks and set timers for meal times. Sometimes I need to not write at all, so I can make sure I leave time to feel.

Whatever I do, I no longer think of my AuDHD as a burden. I utilise it and, equally, care for it when things get too much.

For a long time, I saw my AuDHD as something that held me back. Now, I see it as the reason my writing feels the way it does. Passionate, honest. Real.

It’s not always easy. But it’s mine. And it’s powerful.

If you’ve been learning how to work alongside your AuDHD instead of against it, know you aren’t alone.

I’ll be here,

- Ella

---

If you’d like to support We Hyperfocus - the platform by and for neurodivergent creatives, including a magazine, an Instagram account, a monthly directory of courses for neurodivergent creatives and this Substack - we’d be ever so grateful.

You can support We Hyperfocus…

for £3.50/month or £35/year here: wehyperfocus.substack.com/subscribe

for £1.75/month or £17.50/year here: wehyperfocus.substack.com/alittleless

for 88p/month or £8.75/year here: wehyperfocus.substack.com/everypennycounts

Thank you for reading, and supporting.

Annie x