Having ADHD is like trying to catch the rain.

Imagine you’re in a small hut on a wide-open field. As the storm approaches, you prepare yourself to head outside and catch the rain, just like everyone else.

You step outside and your attention is drawn to the darkening sky. The first drops of rain fall. You catch one, then another. The storm picks up, and the rain falls faster. You miss a drop, then another. Soon there are so many things raining down that you don’t know which drops to focus on. Do you go for the ones coming from a distance, or the ones closer to you? The ones within easy reach, or the ones you can get in position for? The more you frantically deliberate, the more drops you miss. Still, the storm grows ever louder — then lightning strikes.

Having ADHD is like trying to catch the rain.

All thoughts vanish. There is nothing but you and the lightning. Then it fades, and you find yourself soaked, sinking into the mud.

You return indoors with the other rain catchers. They, inexplicably, seem dry. You’re met with disapproving, mocking, or pitying gazes. No one cares about your stories of lightning or how overwhelming the rain felt. That wasn’t the point. All they can see is the rain you didn’t catch. None of them seem bothered by — or even aware of — the impossibility of the task.

They go about their days, playing cards and reading books. They leave the storm outside behind. What they don’t understand is that for you, the storm never stops.

From the moment you wake up, the clouds gather in your mind. By the time others are getting ready, a million drops have already saturated your attention. The tiny bump on your leg, the fly by the honey, the crack in the table, the crooked smile, the smell of the air, the word, the touch, the joke, regret, chill, worry, salt, doubt, truth, light, sun, lie… and always the sound of thunder. Countless stories, countless moments, ceaselessly streaming through your mind. This is before you ever step foot into the maelstrom that is each and every day. The chaos only stops when lightning strikes.

I developed the Bullet Journal Method as a strategy to help myself get better at catching the rain.

Sometimes it strikes outside, and other times it strikes inside. Inner lightning strikes might be a random word, sound, image, object, memory, or thought. You’re instantly transported to sunlit peaks, exotic jungles, or blackened valleys of singular experience that flash into existence for seconds, minutes, or hours. There is no time here, there is only you… and it.

Sometimes the lightning is devastating, setting your mind on fire. Other times its brilliance illuminates the most wondrous things. When it fades, however, you return to find yourself drenched and disoriented. You’ve missed things, and you know it, and if you don’t, others are more than happy to remind you. The rain of information never stops. So you step outside day after day, desperately trying to find a way to get better at catching the rain, at weathering the storm.