Let’s not pretend otherwise—my space is cluttered. There’s a guitar and a bass hanging on the wall. Collages made from old magazines cover most surfaces like visual noise that somehow calms me down. A lamp glows from behind my second monitor, and my cat lounges just to the side of it, always watching. I’ve got three monitors, tabs open everywhere, headphones dangling from hooks, and an ambiance that would drive a minimalist up the wall.

But this space works. For me, it thrives.

Growing up with ADHD, I heard every version of “get organized,” “clean your room,” and “you just need to focus.” But here’s the truth: ADHD is not a character flaw. It’s not laziness, immaturity, or a lack of motivation. ADHD—Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder—is a neurological difference in how the brain processes information, regulates attention, manages impulses, and organizes time and tasks. It can look like disorganization and distraction, but under the surface it often includes intense focus, heightened emotional sensitivity, rapid problem-solving, and the ability to navigate chaos like a sixth sense.

There are different types of ADHD, and not all include hyperactivity. Some folks are inattentive, others are impulsive, some are both. Many adults—especially caregivers—go undiagnosed or misunderstood, masking symptoms until burnout forces a reckoning. If you’ve ever felt like your mind has 27 browser tabs open, and none of them are playing the music, that’s ADHD.

And in caregiving? ADHD can be a lifeline. I’ve worked midnight shifts in nursing homes and memory care wings. I’ve supported people through end-of-life care and 3 AM crises. I’ve tracked medications, mood shifts, and mobility concerns—all without a formal checklist. My brain runs in loops and leaps. It doesn’t always keep track of time, but it tracks people. It picks up changes in tone, body language, and energy long before anyone else notices. That’s not a liability—that’s insight.

So yes, my room is cluttered. But my care is precise. My world might look chaotic, but my empathy is exact. That’s a caregiver superpower.

And if that resonates, we’ve built something for you.

At Contemplative Caregiver, we don’t ask you to clean up your chaos—we ask how we can support you within it.

Need nature to reset? Join our Fishing Therapy Group, where we process grief, burnout, and trauma on the water—because sometimes healing starts with casting a line.

Prefer to game your way into self-care? Our Caregiver Gaming Group is a virtual community where caregivers connect through cooperative and strategy-based games. It’s therapy, yes—but it’s also joy, relief, and play.

Moving through grief in your own way? Explore our Brush With Grief series, where we make paintbrushes from natural materials and animal fibers while honoring stories of loss.

A clinician or advocate wanting to grow? Our Community Mental Health Leadership Group offers a space for emerging and experienced mental health professionals to connect, consult, and build resilience through leadership.

Or maybe you’re just ready for therapy. Individual sessions are always available—with flexible pricing and sliding scale options—whether in-person, via telehealth, or outdoors.

ADHD doesn’t need fixing. It needs understanding. It needs support. And in the right context, it becomes exactly the tool you didn’t know you had.

Let’s stop trying to be someone else’s version of “organized” and start showing up as ourselves—complex, capable, and full of insight.

Your clutter isn’t a problem—it might just be your power.