Riding the ADHD Tide: How My Brain Moves Through Cycles of Focus and Fog

For years, I thought something was broken. I’d spend three days in a creative frenzy — designing, writing, building — then wake up and feel like a different person. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. I’d scroll aimlessly, dodge emails, and feel buried in shame. And then, almost like magic, I’d catch a spark again and dive into something new.

It felt like failure. But what if it’s a rhythm?

What if ADHD doesn’t mean being always scattered — but sometimes intense, and sometimes empty?

I call it the ADHD Tide. And I think a lot of us live by it, without knowing its name.

ADHD is usually defined by what it lacks: attention, organization, consistency. But if you live with it — especially the version that craves novelty and bursts into hyperfocus — you may know this cycle:

• The spark: You stumble into an idea and suddenly, everything else falls away. You’re researching, riffing, planning, dreaming.

• The surge: You hit a flow state. You forget to eat. You build 80% of a project in a day.

• The crash: Your brain stops cooperating. Words don’t come. Your motivation dries up. You feel hollow.

• The drift: You zone out. You cancel plans. You wonder if it was all just a fluke.

• The reset: Slowly, the fog clears. You see something new. Curiosity returns.

Then the tide rises again.

This isn’t a broken system. It’s a self-regulating one.

Scientists tell us that ADHD brains have lower baseline dopamine — the brain chemical that helps us focus and feel motivated. But when something feels exciting or new? Boom — we get a dopamine spike. That’s the surge. But dopamine can’t stay up forever. It fades. And when it does, our executive functions (organization, memory, decision-making) start to crash too.

It’s not laziness. It’s neurochemical fatigue.

Think of it like a tide: the wave rises when novelty and purpose are high. Then it recedes as the brain naturally resets. That’s the ADHD Tide.

Why this matters: we need a new model

We’re told to be consistent. To show up the same way every day. But some of us don’t work like that — not because we don’t want to, but because our brains run in pulses.

Instead of punishing ourselves for the ebb, what if we:

• Planned work in sprints, followed by rest?

• Used tools to track our rhythms, not just our time?

• Accepted that withdrawal is part of the process, not the end of it?

You’re not alone if you feel like your brain runs in waves

This tide-based pattern isn’t in the diagnostic manual, but it’s in our lives. I’ve heard it from artists, developers, students, teachers, parents — people who light up and burn out, who dive deep then drift.

There’s nothing wrong with riding the tide. The problem is pretending we’re built like clocks, when we’re more like oceans.

Let’s learn to read our waters.

If you want to track your own tide or build tools around this idea, I’m working on it. You’re invited.