Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:00):
Tonight's episode will change how you see your habits forever. By minute 12, you'll
(00:06):
understand why some of your coping rituals are actually keeping your mind stuck in a loop,
it doesn't know how to leave. If this rewires your brain even 1%, smash, follow, it'll
Spotify you want more of this signal in the noise.
We all have rituals, tiny things we do every day to cope, to calm, to avoid. A certain
(00:29):
way of lining up your shoes before bed. Triple checking the stove, scrolling tick-tock
in the exact same sequence, FYP, DMs, then saved videos. Or maybe it's the playlist you
always run to when you're anxious, same three songs, same order. But what if I told you
that the ritual isn't helping? That it's the loop itself, not the trigger keeping you
(00:54):
stuck. That your brain, wired by repetition, starts confusing the ritual with the relief.
And once that happens, it no longer questions whether the ritual works, just whether it's
been completed correctly. Where people get it wrong?
Most people think ritual means something spiritual, or OCD-like. But many rituals in ADHD and
(01:19):
anxiety are invisible. They live in the scroll, the snack, the mute notifications, and disappear
for a week pattern. And they feel like control. But they're often just disguised of
avoidance. We say, "I'll feel better after I clean. I'll start once I make my space perfect.
(01:40):
I'll sleep after I finish this YouTube rabbit hole." But notice, the ritual becomes mandatory,
and the feeling, it doesn't arrive. Here's the kicker. Your nervous system doesn't crave
completion. It craves closure. And when the ritual doesn't bring closure, only another loop,
(02:01):
it becomes a neural itch. Each repetition deepens the groove. Each groove makes escaping
harder. We are quite literally trapped in the shape of our own behaviors. Tonight just
notice, what do you always do when you feel overwhelmed? What ritual shows up the moment
your anxiety spikes? You don't need to change it yet. Just name it. Because breaking the
(02:28):
loop starts not with destruction, but with awareness.
Have you ever put something off so long that you started avoiding yourself? That email
you didn't reply to, that text message blinking scene? The gym bag by the door, untouched
for weeks? You delay it because the pressure feels too much. You delay it more because
(02:55):
now there's shame attached. Then comes the self-loathing. And then silence. This isn't laziness.
It's dopamine distortion. Here's the science. Your brain runs on reward prediction. With
ADHD, OCD, or anxiety disorders, the dopamine system often misfires. What does that mean?
(03:23):
Tasks feel impossible until they're urgent. Anticipating failure hurts more than doing
nothing. Success doesn't always bring relief. It brings a crash. Your brain doesn't reward
progress. It punishes pressure. This is why just do it doesn't work. The loop isn't logical.
(03:46):
It's chemical. The self-abandonment spiral. When dopamine delays kick in, we abandon ourselves
in subtle ways. We start thinking, "I'm the kind of person who never finishes anything."
We go star own ideas, our own goals. We call it procrastination, but really it's pain
(04:08):
avoidance. The worst part is we start treating ourselves like that one flaky friend, the one
who promises than vanishes. Every mistask becomes a vote against your own trustworthiness.
And it hurts quietly, repeatedly. What people get wrong? People assume motivation comes
(04:31):
first, but it's usually the results of action. With dopamine sensitive brains, you can't
wait to feel ready. You need many wins that create internal trust. Not go to the gym, just
put your shoes on. Not reply to 30 emails, just open the app and star one. Not write the
(04:56):
report, just type the title. The action teaches your nervous system, "I don't abandon you
anymore." Tonight, ask yourself, "What's one small thing you've delayed? Not because you're
lazy, but because you didn't feel safe to fail." And what's the smallest possible version
(05:20):
of starting that your future self would thank you for? You're not broken. Your system
just forgot what safety looks like. Let's remind it, one many win at a time.
One day's your brain says, "I have no energy." But does that mean rest? No. You lie there,
(05:46):
scrolling, doom scrolling, binge watching, but never resting. You delay that one thing for
nine hours and feel guilty the entire time. That's not low energy. That's mental fog
disguised as fatigue. That's avoidance, wearing a hoodie labeled "tired." And your nervous
(06:11):
system? It's caught in a trap where doing nothing feels exhausting, but doing anything feels
worse. Here's what's really happening. Your body isn't lying, but it's not telling the
whole truth. If it were true exhaustion, you'd sleep. If it were true rest, you'd feel restored.
(06:38):
But when energy feels fake, it's usually emotional weight, not physical depletion. ADHD brains burn
more fuel doing nothing than most people burn doing something. That no energy state is often
a protective mode. Your body hiding from a perceived threat, like shame or failure or too
(07:03):
many open tabs in your mind. Where people get it wrong. We keep asking, "How do I get more
energy?" But the better question is, where is my energy going even when I'm sitting still?
Are you spending it rehearsing failure? Are you replaying an awkward conversation from
(07:28):
three years ago? Are you burning calories trying not to disappoint yourself again? That's
where your energy is. How to move forward? When your energy lies, don't fight it. Instead,
I pass the logic filter. Try this. I only have energy to sit. Sit on the floor, not the
(07:55):
bed. Shift the scene. I can't start. Just touch the object. Touch the book. Touch the keyboard.
Touch the laundry. Still stuck? Say this out loud. This is temporary. My body isn't the
enemy. Microwovements tell the truth. Sometimes energy returns after you act, not before.
(08:26):
Thought. Tonight instead of asking, "Why can't I get moving?" Ask, "What would my energy
say if I stopped trying to silence it?" And remember, you felt this before. You got out of it
then. You'll get out again. Your energy isn't gone. It's just trapped in fear. We'll help
(08:52):
it breathe again. One exhale at a time. Have you noticed how it swings? One moment you're
unstoppable. You clean the house, reply to 17 messages, plan your entire life in an hour.
You feel like you're finally winning. But then, nothing. A sudden crash. It's like your brain
(09:15):
pulls the plug and you're back on the floor, watching dust float in the sunlight. This is
the A-D-H-D-O-C-D pendulum. It swings between two poles, hyper-focus or survival mode. You
sprint, you chase clarity, you over-deliver. Shut down or guilt spiral. You collapse, you
(09:38):
cancel, you disappear. It's not laziness. It's nervous system fatigue. Your brain is
toggling between fight and freeze. And here's the kicker. Each swing feels like your true
self. So you start to believe the lie. I'm either a superhero or a failure. Where people
(10:00):
get it wrong. They try to solve the crash by pushing through it. They think discipline will
fix the swing. But discipline without recovery just feeds the next shutdown. What's really
happening? Your brain's regulation system is burning out. Your cord is all as high, your
(10:20):
dopamine is spiking, and your energy has no pacing strategy. You're not broken. You're
just stuck on a roller coaster, no one taught you how to ride. How to break the swing?
Start by not punishing the crash. Say this. This is a pattern, not a personal flaw. Then,
(10:42):
during overdrive, set artificial limits. Even though I can keep going, I'll stop after
this task. Treat energy like a budget, not a lottery win. During shutdown, do one
percent of a routine. Not the full workout, just socks on. Not a full shower, just wash
(11:04):
your face. Give your nervous system something gentle to hold on to. Track the swings. Literally,
write down, "Today I felt myself rising, or today I crashed." Patterns emerge, guilt,
fades. Final reflection. Your energy isn't random. It has rhythm, like tides. It only
(11:28):
becomes a problem when we expect it to be linear. But you, you're not a machine. You're
a tide pool full of cycles, mystery, and life. So tonight, instead of chasing momentum
or mourning its loss, just say, "I'm learning the dance of my own pendulum." And that
(11:50):
is more than enough. We're told motivation is the spark. That if you had enough of it,
you'd finally do the things you care about. But what if I told you, "Motivation doesn't
come before action?" What if that whole model, feel inspired, then act, is backwards.
(12:13):
The lie of the lightning bolt. You sit there waiting for the lightning. Waiting for the moment
the energy arrives and your brain lights up like a storm. But with ADHD, OCD, and dysregulated
minds, the lightning often doesn't come. Not when we want it, not when we need it. So we
(12:36):
label ourselves unmotivated, lazy, undisciplined. But these aren't traits. They're symptoms
of a misunderstanding. The science shift. Action first, emotion second. Motivation isn't
fuel. It's a byproduct. What actually kicks things off? Momentum. Starting something small
(13:04):
creates the neurochemical shift we associate with being motivated. Structure. Clear edges,
low friction entry. Not a blank page, but a template. Not right today, but open Google
Doxon right one sentence. Micro wins. Each tiny win drops dopamine. And dopamine is what
(13:28):
ADHD brains crave. Reframing the struggle. Ask this instead of "why can't I start?"
What would make this frictionless? Can I reduce the task to 20 seconds? Can I make it easier
to start than to avoid? Even rushing your teeth can start with standing by the sink. Once
(13:55):
you do something, motivation can follow. Not the other way around. Real talk. You're not
lazy. You're under-signaled. ADHD brains often need external signals to activate internal
systems. Alarms. Body doubling. Environmental cues, like putting shoes by the door. Even music
(14:22):
rhythms can act as scaffolding. You're not broken. You're under-signaled in a world built
for linear minds. Try saying this. I don't need to feel like doing it. I just need to start
the motion and trust the feeling will follow. Motivation is not a lightning bolt from the
(14:45):
gods. It's a matchstick in your pocket. It only lights when struck. Final reflection.
You've been told to wait for motivation. But maybe you just needed permission to move
without it. So tonight, ask yourself, "What's my 22nd action? What's the tiniest door I
(15:10):
can open?" And when you walk through it, don't be surprised if motivation finally decides
to follow you. You've probably said it. If I could just be more productive. If I had a
system of planar, a new app. If I used my time better. But what if the obsession with productivity
(15:32):
is the very thing keeping you stuck? The productivity illusion. The world sells you
this promise. If you optimize hard enough your time, your body, your focus, you'll finally
arrive. At peace, at control, at enough. But for ADHD and OCD minds, that promise becomes
(15:57):
a prison. Why? Because productivity isn't a neutral goal. It's a weaponized value system.
Having productivity becomes a self-worth proxy. If your value is tied to output, what happens
when you burn out? Hyper-focus on the wrong task. Freeze in decision fatigue. You need
(16:22):
rest, but rest feels like failure. You enter a feedback loop. I didn't get enough done.
I must be worthless. I need to try harder. I fail again. And round and round it goes.
Brain chemistry isn't capitalism. Your brain doesn't work in 9-5 blocks. It doesn't
(16:43):
care about quarterly goals or planar aesthetics. ADHD minds work in bursts, in flow, in urgency.
OCD minds get trapped in mental loops that feel like productivity, but are really anxiety
rituals. Checking, rechecking, perfecting, planning. The trap? It feels productive, but you're
(17:06):
not moving, you're circling. What if you measured something else? Try this. Instead of
asking, was I productive today? Ask, did I protect my peace? Did I honor my capacity? Did
I move the needle? Even by 1%. It's not about doing more. It's about escaping the lie that
(17:30):
worth equals output. You don't need to earn your rest. This part matters. You don't need
to earn your rest. You don't need to justify joy. You don't need to be efficient, to be
worthy. You're allowed to exist, even if you didn't tick every box, especially then.
(17:53):
Final reflection. Maybe the real rebellion isn't hacking your time. Maybe it's reclaiming
your right to be a person. Messy, non-linear, enough. Tonight whisper this to yourself.
I am not a machine. I'm a mind learning to breathe again. And let that be your product
(18:15):
activity. Friction. It sounds like something we should avoid. Tech wants to eliminate it.
Designers obsess over streamlining it. Productivity gurus call it the enemy. But what if friction
is exactly what we need? The frictionless trap. Swipe. Tap. Click. Content, content, content.
(18:43):
Swiping is smooth now. Maybe too smooth. There's no resistance. No moment to pause. No time
to ask, why am I doing this again? For ADHD and OCD brains, frictionless loops are dangerous.
They feel comforting, like a ride you don't have to steer. But they trap you in motion
(19:09):
without meaning. Open phone, scroll, switch apps, doom spiral. Compulsion, relief, anxiety,
repeat. It's ease weaponized against you. Friction as a tool, not a barrier. What if we
flipped the script? Friction isn't the enemy. It's a signal, a checkpoint, a breath. Putting
(19:37):
your phone across the room isn't punishment. It's space. Writing with a pen instead of typing
forces slowness and reflection. Cooking a meal instead of ordering in reconnects you to
rhythm. These moments of inconvenience can be moments of return to your body, to your
(20:03):
intention, to yourself. Why your brain needs tension to rewire. The brain changes not
when things are easy, but when it's slightly hard, but doable. That's neuroplasticity. That's
how habits form. That's where change begins. In friction, not flow. If it's too easy, it
(20:33):
doesn't stick. If it's too hard, you give up. But the right kind of friction, that's
growth. Microstradages for intentional friction. You don't need to overhaul your life. You
just need small resistance points that say, pause. Digital delay. Ten second timers on your
(20:58):
social apps. Single task rituals. Light a candle when you sit to right. No music, no distractions.
Movement friction. Put your yoga mat where you trip on it. Sleep cue friction. No screens
in bed. Book instead. Tiny acts. Massive returns. Final reflection. We're told that life
(21:25):
should be effortless. But sometimes what heals us isn't the smoothest road. It's the little
bump that wakes us up. The quiet tug that says, you're slipping. Come back. So tonight, ask
yourself, where do I need friction to feel human again? Then add it back in deliberately,
(21:52):
lovingly, slowly. Not every place you existed is safe for your brain. And I'm not talking
about danger in the dramatic sense. I'm talking about over stimulation, triggers, emotional
noise, ADHD, OCD, anxiety, they thrive in chaos. Your mind becomes a war zone when your environment
(22:16):
whispers a thousand demands at once. But here's the truth. You can build safety, one deliberate
choice at a time. Your environment is not neutral. Look around your room right now. Does it
calm you or quietly activate your stress loop? A cluttered desk equals a cluttered decision tree.
(22:38):
Bright overhead light equals visual overwhelm. Notifications everywhere equals fractured focus.
No clear sleep zone equals no signal to rest. Your physical space becomes part of your
mental space. And when everything is shouting, your mind never gets to whisper. The safehouse
(23:00):
framework. A safe house for your mind doesn't need to be perfect. It needs to feel like yours.
Start with three zones, the reset corner, a chair, a plant, maybe a salt lamp, no screens, no
expectations, just somewhere you can land when everything feels too much. The deep work zone,
(23:23):
keep it sacred, one purpose only. Headphones, water, clean surface. If possible,
face a wall or a calming image, not a hallway or clutter. The sleep portal. Make your bed feel
like a queue, not just a surface. Low lighting, weighted blanket, a scent you only use at night.
(23:46):
Lavender, cedar, something grounding. No bright screens, no unfinished to-do lists.
Each zone equals a queue. Each queue equals a neurochemical nudge toward regulation.
Micro shifts with macro impact. Small environmental tweaks equal major nervous system relief.
(24:07):
Light a candle before journaling. Declutter just one corner, not the whole room. Use noise
cancelling headphones as a mental doorway. Turn off overhead lights after 9pm, just warm lamps.
These are environmental interventions, just as valid as medication, just as powerful as therapy,
(24:28):
when done consistently. Designing with your future self in mind.
Ask what would soothe the version of me who feels panicked at 3am? Then build toward that.
Leave a note beside your bed. You've been here before. You'll make it through again.
Keep a playlist called emergency calm. A tiny basket with your favorite fidget,
(24:53):
lip balm and soft socks. The best healing spaces don't scream productivity. They whisper permission
to rest. You don't need a bigger house. You need a safer space, crafted from intention,
not square footage. Every pillow, every object, every routine can be a message. A message that says,
(25:18):
"You're not broken. You are just overstimulated." And you are allowed to feel safe again.
So tonight, build your safe house. Even if it's just one corner, one light, one moment of peace.
Because peace isn't a place you find. It's a place you create.
(25:38):
What if your mind isn't disordered? Just badly mapped by systems that were never built for you?
That's where we go next.