Letters Under the Floorboard
The ADHD need to be witnessed, and what to do when no one's watching
So I have this thing where I find a lot of things important.
Like, a LOT of things. A weird amount of things. A “why do I care so much about this random moment” amount of things.
And for a long time I thought this was a character flaw. I thought I was just... too much. Too intense. Too interested in everything. Too eager to share every single observation and thought and feeling with anyone who would listen.
But here’s what I’ve learned after 19 years of living with and researching ADHD: this is just how our brains work.
We notice more. We feel more. We make connections that other people don’t make because their brains aren’t pinballing around looking for patterns in everything. We have these rich, complicated inner worlds that are constantly generating material, and it all feels urgent, and it all feels important, because to us, it is.
The problem isn’t that we care about too many things. The problem is what we DO with all that caring.
And for most of my life, what I did was: share everything I find important with the world, so that the world can confirm back to me that yes, these things ARE important, and by extension, maybe I am too.
It was a whole project. The “please validate my existence” project.
And it was... exhausting. For everyone involved, probably.
Because here’s the thing about needing that external confirmation: you become a little bit of a bottomless pit. Someone validates you, and it feels good for maybe eleven seconds, and then you need another one. And another. And you’re not even really hearing the validation anymore because you’re too busy scanning for the next opportunity to get it.
And if you have ADHD, you probably also have some flavor of rejection sensitivity, which means that when the validation DOESN’T come (or worse, when someone responds with disinterest, or criticism, or just... nothing), it doesn’t just sting. It burns a hole through your chest. It confirms every terrible thing you’ve ever suspected about yourself.
So you’re caught in this loop: share something important, hope someone cares, feel devastated when they don’t care enough, try again, share more, hope harder, feel worse.
I was basically a ghost trying to prove I existed by getting other people to look at me.
(Fun way to live. Very sustainable. No issues there.)
There’s this Ashlee Simpson song called Shadow. And I know, I KNOW, but stay with me. There’s a line that goes: “Somebody listen, please. It used to be so hard being me.”
And: “Living in the shadow of someone else’s dream. Trying to find a hand to hold, but every touch felt cold to me.”
And: “All the days collided, one less perfect than the next. I was stuck inside someone else’s life and always second best.”
I heard that song as a teenager and I was like... yeah. That’s it. That’s the whole thing. Won’t somebody listen? Won’t somebody help? Won’t somebody notice me and find me interesting and want to know what I think?
This feeling of being perpetually unseen. Of having so much happening inside you and no one to receive it. Of wanting to be longed for, thought about, cared about in that way you see in movies where someone just... can’t stop thinking about another person.
I never felt like that person. I felt like the person who does the longing. The person who cares too much. The person who’s a little more needy than wanted.
And look, some of that probably came from some terrible things people said and did to me along the way. But some of it is also just... the ADHD experience. We ARE more intense. We DO need more. Our brains require more stimulation, more feedback, more connection. That’s not a moral failing. That’s neurology.
But knowing that didn’t make the loneliness go away.
And then, somewhere along the way, I started journaling on a regular basis.
I use this app called Day One, and I’ve been using it since 2017. Every year gets its own journal. I can tag things, I can write, I can record audio that gets transcribed automatically, I can film little videos where I just... talk to myself about something I’m thinking about.
I take screenshots of stuff. I photograph my drawings, my notes, my random creations. I save things “just in case” future me wants to know what I was doing, thinking, making. I record what I call “vlogs” but they’re really just me, talking to me, about a thought I had or an idea that came to me or something philosophical that I’m chewing on.
At first, honestly? The journaling was still part of the same project. I was documenting myself because I had no one to share with. It was like... settling. Like, fine, if no one else will listen, I guess I’ll just talk to myself.
It felt a little pathetic, if I’m being honest. Like keeping a diary because you have no friends.
But I kept doing it anyway. Because my brain kept generating material, and it had to go SOMEWHERE.
And then, slowly, something started to shift.
It wasn’t one big moment. It was more like... I started noticing that I was thinking differently about who I was writing to.
I’d finish an entry and I’d think: “Future me is going to be so interested in this.” Or I’d film a vlog and think: “One day I’m going to look back at this and wonder what it felt like to be here.”
I started imagining her. Future me. Like, what is she going to find interesting? What is she wondering about? What does she wish she knew about her past? I’m leaving her all these memories and thoughts and philosophical tangents. What do I want her to find?
And I realized: I wasn’t writing to no one.
I was writing letters to her.
I was putting them under a loose floorboard in the attic of my life for her to find later.
And that reframe changed everything.
Because suddenly I wasn’t settling for myself. I wasn’t journaling as a consolation prize for not having anyone to talk to. I was actively, intentionally, creating something FOR someone. Someone specific. Someone who I actually wanted to impress.
And the thing about future me: she’s a really good audience.
She’s curious. She’s invested. She’s not going to scroll past or forget to respond or make me feel like I’m too much. She’s not going to get distracted or change the subject or accidentally make me feel like what I’m saying doesn’t matter.
She’s going to find those letters under the floorboard and think: oh, I remember her. I remember what she cared about. I’m so glad she wrote this down.
She’s going to watch those “vlogs” and hear my voice from years ago and feel connected to who I was when I made them.
She’s going to look at the screenshots and the photos and the random saved artifacts and think: look at everything she was building. Look at everything she noticed.
So now, when I find something important (which is still a lot of things, constantly, I haven’t fixed that part, that part might just be who I am), I don’t immediately need to broadcast it to the world. I don’t need to get it validated by anyone else. I don’t need someone to confirm that yes, this matters.
I just... write it down. For her.
I plant the flag in my own territory instead of trying to plant it in everyone else’s.
And the thing that’s wild is... that feeling of “won’t somebody listen”? That desperate need to be seen and received and cared about?
It’s not gone. I don’t think it ever fully goes away when you have a brain like ours.
But it’s quieter now. Because I’m not waiting to be picked anymore.
I picked myself. Or rather, I picked future me. And I’m building something for her, one entry at a time.
Some days I update the journal because something big happened and I want her to know about it. Some days I update it because I had a weird thought that felt worth saving. Some days I film a vlog just to tell her about a moment that I know she’ll forget if I don’t capture it.
And the thing is: when you’re trying to impress future you, you start living differently. You start paying attention to your life like it’s interesting. Because you’re looking for things to report back. You’re collecting evidence that you were here, that you were thinking, that you were building something.
That’s CHOOSING me.
That’s choosing me. Over and over. On purpose.
The somebody who finally listened?
It was always going to be me.
I just had to learn how to be a good listener.
♥️