Neurodivergent

This Life I’m Painting, One Petal and Paw at a Time

/ tammy4nd@gmail.com / Leave a comment
Two cats, one orange and one black, snuggle together on a colorful blanket on a bed.

Sometimes I feel like the world wants me to be doing something bigger, faster, louder.
But lately, I just want to water my flowers.
I want to paint something without knowing what it’s going to be.
I want to sit with my cats and do nothing at all—and call it enough.

If you’ve ever felt that too, even for a moment, then you’ll probably get this.

Right now, my life is a strange mix of soft and chaotic—quiet mornings, paint-streaked hands, cats trying to sit directly on my laptop. And somehow, it’s working for me.

My cats? They’re family.
Frodo has decided he’s an outdoor cat this summer, trailing me while I water the garden like a little shadow. Rizzo and Raven act like the porch is their kingdom, and Sam gives outdoor life one cautious sniff before running back inside. They each have their own vibe, and all of them rotate who gets to curl up next to me when I’m reading, painting, or just trying to be still.

A cozy scene of three cats resting on a striped bedspread, with a television showing an animated program in the background. The room features a bookshelf filled with books and decorative items.

The plants? A love story.
They used to all live inside, but once summer hit, I moved them to the porch—and they’re thriving. There’s something about watching new growth that gives me hope, even on days I don’t feel like I’m growing at all. My herbs (lavender, dill, chamomile, sage, parsley) have been the most fun—I even started making lavender lemon water, and wow… it’s become a tiny ritual of peace.

A potted plant sits on a wooden porch railing, with lush greenery and colorful flowers in the background under a cloudy sky.
A close-up of a vibrant red hibiscus flower, showcasing its large petals and yellow stamens, surrounded by green leaves and a wooden background.

I’m growing vegetables too: spinach, tomatoes, cucumbers, even cantaloupe. Not everything’s fruiting yet, but every new sprout feels like a quiet victory. It’s slow magic. The kind that teaches you patience without making you feel like you’re failing.

A wooden porch with various potted plants, including ferns and flowering plants, alongside a watering can and a mirror reflecting the surroundings.

And painting? That’s where I go when words don’t work.
I don’t plan what I’ll paint. Sometimes it’s flowers. Sometimes outer space. Sometimes it’s just abstract shapes that feel right in the moment. I’ll repaint a canvas over and over until it feels finished—and then I hang it up. Every one of my completed paintings is on a wall somewhere in the house, which feels kind of special.

An abstract painting depicting a blue sky with white clouds and a golden streak, above a textured brown landscape.

I usually paint in quiet. No music, no podcast or audiobook. Just the sound of whatever’s happening outside, or in the house. Sometimes my boyfriend’s working in his office with a baseball game on, or the news playing way too dramatically (David Muir, calm down). I’ll take breaks to sit on the floor in there with him and watch Wheel of Fortune (his show—he always wins) and Jeopardy (my show—he never stands a chance). Those small breaks make everything feel more human, more shared.

A colorful abstract painting featuring splattered paint on a dark background, with hints of green and bright pinks, positioned on a floor near wooden furniture.
An abstract painting with textured green and blue colors, featuring streaks of white and hints of other colors, creating a vibrant and organic feel.
A colorful abstract painting featuring splashes of pink, yellow, and red, with an unintentional happy face shape formed by the paint.

Sometimes I use leftover paint from my canvas to create blackout poetry, circling random words on book pages and painting over the rest. I’ve made over 100 of those poems. It’s not structured or fancy. It’s just… what I do. And I love it.

A cozy living room with several cats lounging on the floor and a cat perched on a table. A ceiling fan is above, and the space features plants and bookshelves in the background.
=
A tortoiseshell cat lounging on a kitchen counter next to an orange handbag.
=
A workspace with various paint tubes and a paint palette featuring splashes of colors on it. Two pieces of artwork are visible: one painted dragonfly on a canvas with a blue background and a yellow dragonfly on another canvas.

If you’re someone who’s tired, overstimulated, or just looking for something that feels soft and grounding… I get it.
You don’t need to grow a garden or adopt four cats. But maybe you need one plant. One paintbrush. One poem. One quiet night that doesn’t have to lead anywhere.

A person relaxed on a bed with colorful pillows and blankets, playing with two cats in a cozy room with warm lighting.

I’m learning that love can look like this:
Four cats.
Too many pots of flowers.
Paint under my fingernails.
And a day that doesn’t demand more of me than I can give.

A colorful workspace featuring a yellow patterned tablecloth with paint tubes, brushes, and a sketchbook with handwritten notes. A partially painted canvas and a notebook with visible text are also on the table.

Whatever your version of this is—whatever makes you feel alive and okay—I hope you let it take up space. Even if it’s small. Especially if it’s small.

And if you’ve got a “soft life” ritual of your own—something that helps you slow down, feel grounded, or just makes your day a little gentler—I’d love to hear it. Share it in the comments if you feel like it. 🌸

A pink flower petal shaped like a heart lying on a dark, marbled surface.

🧠 What ADHD Actually Is (and Isn’t)

/ tammy4nd@gmail.com / Leave a comment

Unmasking, One Post at a Time
By Kayla Sue Warner

Let’s just say this up front: the name “Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder” is wrong. Like, offensively wrong. There’s not actually a “deficit” of attention, and there’s nothing “disordered” about the way our brains work. ADHD is a neurotype—a naturally occurring variation in how human brains process time, emotion, focus, and executive functioning. It’s not something broken. It’s just something different.

Illustration depicting a brain with an exclamation mark, symbolizing attention and cognitive focus.

❗Wait, Why Is It Still Called a “Disorder”?

Let’s talk about the name: Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder. It’s outdated. And honestly, inaccurate.

  • We don’t actually have a deficit of attention—we have too much of it in too many places at once, or we hyperfocus intensely on one thing and tune everything else out.
  • And the word disorder makes it sound like something’s broken or wrong with us. It’s not.
  • Our brains are just wired differently—and that’s okay.

ADHD is a brain difference, not a disease. The name hasn’t caught up with the science yet, and many people in the neurodivergent community are pushing for a change. But until the “official” terminology catches up, we’re stuck with a label that doesn’t reflect our actual lived experience.

So if you hear me use “ADHD,” just know: I’m talking about a neurotype, not something that needs to be “fixed.”

A colorful abstract painting featuring a quirky character with large eyes, a yellow face, and an orange outline, holding a pink flower against a textured blue-green background.

⚡ ADHD Is a Brain-Based Executive Function Difference

ADHD isn’t a character flaw, a lack of willpower, or a moral failure. It’s a difference in how the brain is wired—especially in areas related to executive functioning. That includes things like:

  • initiating tasks
  • following through on plans
  • regulating emotions
  • managing time and transitions
  • remembering what you were doing in the first place (before you got up and completely forgot)

And while the medical world still calls it a “disorder,” many of us know better. There’s nothing wrong with how our brains work—we just live in a world that isn’t designed for us. (CHADD, 2023)

Dr. Russell Barkley, who has studied ADHD for decades, once said:

“ADHD is not a deficit of knowing what to do. It’s a deficit of doing what you know.”

And let me tell you—that quote is my whole life.

A person standing on a beach wearing a black crop top and bright yellow high-waisted bikini bottoms, holding a drink and posing confidently under a cloudy sky.

🧬 It’s Not Your Fault. It’s How Your Brain Works.

ADHD isn’t caused by bad parenting, screens, sugar, or any of the other ridiculous myths floating around. It’s a neurodevelopmental difference—a variation in brain wiring, often linked to genetics, and especially connected to dopamine regulation (NIMH, 2021).

We don’t lack attention—we have inconsistent attention. And we don’t need to be “fixed.” We need understanding, support, and systems that work with our brains instead of against them.

A cluttered room featuring a white cabinet with glass doors showcasing books, alongside a pile of scattered books on the floor.

🌱 Final Thoughts

ADHD isn’t a disorder. It’s not a disease. It’s not something to be cured or controlled.

It’s a different brain. A different way of experiencing the world. A neurotype.

And even if the name hasn’t caught up yet, we can speak about it differently. We can unlearn the shame and rebuild our self-trust. We can stop viewing ourselves as “failures” for struggling in a world that was never built with us in mind.

A close-up of a small, vibrant flower with purple tips, set against a colorful, textured background.