Chasing the Buzz: My Life with ADHD Overstimulation

My brain is a thrill-seeker, always craving a hit of stimulation, but when it gets too much, it’s like a circuit overload—everything feels too loud, too bright, too much. When I was diagnosed with ADHD, I learned that this rollercoaster of seeking and then drowning in stimulation, often paired with overthinking, is a hallmark of how my mind works. ADHD overstimulation isn’t just about being overwhelmed; it’s a constant dance between craving excitement and crashing when the world delivers too much. Writing this blog post is a feat, as my brain ping-pongs between wanting to dive deeper and begging for a break. Here’s what ADHD overstimulation feels like for me and the real-life challenges it brings.

What Is ADHD Overstimulation?

For me, overstimulation is like tuning into every radio station at once—every sound, sight, and thought competes for attention, and my brain can’t find the off switch. ADHD is a neurodevelopmental condition with three presentations (inattentive, hyperactive-impulsive, and combined), and overstimulation is a common experience across them. It’s tied to how my brain processes sensory input and regulates attention, often amplified by the overthinking that makes me hyper-aware of everything.

My ADHD brain craves stimulation—new ideas, loud music, fast-paced tasks—to feel engaged. But when the input piles up (a noisy room, a buzzing phone, a racing mind), it’s like pouring too much water into a cup; I overflow. Overthinking kicks in, turning every sensation into a mental spiral—analysing the noise, my reaction to it, and what it all means. It’s a paradox: I’m wired to chase stimulation, but too much sends me into a tailspin.

The Real-Life Struggles

Let’s get into what this looks like day-to-day. At work, I thrive on high-energy tasks—brainstorming, problem-solving, anything that keeps my brain buzzing. But a busy office, with phones ringing, colleagues chatting, and emails pinging, can push me over the edge. My brain starts overthinking every sound—*Why is that printer so loud? Did I forget to reply to that email? Am I falling behind?*—and I freeze, unable to focus. I’ve had to step outside during meetings just to breathe because the chatter and fluorescent lights felt like a sensory assault.

Socially, overstimulation is a tightrope. I love lively gatherings—music, laughter, and quick banter feed my need for excitement. But too much input—a crowded bar, overlapping conversations, or a friend’s perfume—can make me feel trapped. My brain starts overanalysing: Did I laugh too loud? Is that person staring? Why is this music so grating? I’ll either shut down, going quiet to cope, or get snappy, which confuses people who don’t know I’m overwhelmed. I’ve left parties early, not because I wasn’t having fun, but because my brain was screaming for a break.

Daily life is a balancing act. I’ll blast music or scroll social media to satisfy my craving for stimulation, but it backfires when I can’t stop. A trip to the grocery store can turn into a nightmare—bright lights, crowded aisles, and a mental loop of Did I forget the list? Why is that kid screaming?—leaving me frazzled. Even my own thoughts overstimulate me; I’ll start planning my day, then spiral into overthinking every detail, from what to wear to what might go wrong. At night, my brain replays it all, keeping me awake as I analyse every moment I felt overwhelmed.

The worst part is the crash. When overstimulation hits, I feel physically and mentally drained, like I’ve run a marathon in my head. It’s hard to explain to others why a “normal” day—like running errands or attending a family dinner—leaves me wiped out.

The Emotional Toll

Overstimulation, paired with overthinking, is an emotional weight. The overwhelm feels like a personal failure—why can’t I handle a busy day like everyone else? I beat myself up for getting irritable or zoning out, especially when it affects people I care about. The shame is real; I’ve been called “too sensitive” or “dramatic,” and those labels make me question if I’m just weak.

There’s also the isolation. It’s hard to explain why I need to leave a fun event or why I’m quiet after a hectic day. I worry people think I’m rude or uninterested, when really, I’m just trying to keep my head above water. Overthinking amplifies this—I’ll obsess over whether I offended someone or if they noticed I was struggling, which only adds to the mental noise.

The exhaustion is relentless. Constantly managing stimulation—seeking it, then dodging it—takes a toll. Some days, I feel like I’m failing at life because I can’t keep up with the world’s pace. The overthinking makes it worse, turning every overwhelm into a story about how I’m not enough.

Finding Ways to Cope

Living with ADHD overstimulation is like taming a wildfire, but I’m learning to manage the flames. Sensory breaks are a lifesaver—stepping into a quiet room, closing my eyes, or using noise-canceling headphones to dial down the world. I’ve started carrying sunglasses or a fidget toy for overwhelming environments, like stores or public transit, to ground myself.

I’m also getting better at pacing my stimulation. I schedule high-energy tasks when I’m fresh and save calmer ones, like reading or organizing, for when I’m feeling overstimulated. Mindfulness helps, though it’s hard with my racing brain—focusing on one sense, like the smell of coffee, can pull me out of a spiral. Journaling lets me dump my overthinking onto paper, clearing mental space.

Setting boundaries is key. I say no to events when I know they’ll be too much and explain to friends when I need a quieter hangout. Therapy has taught me to recognize my triggers—crowds, loud noises, or too many decisions—and plan around them. I’m also learning to embrace my need for stimulation in healthier ways, like creative hobbies or short bursts of exercise, to avoid the crash.

Most importantly, I’m practicing self-acceptance. My brain’s hunger for stimulation isn’t a flaw; it’s what makes me curious, creative, and alive. The overthinking is part of that package, and I’m learning to see it as a sign of my depth, not a defect. Connecting with others who get ADHD has been a relief—they understand the buzz and the burnout, no explanation needed.

The Bottom Line

ADHD overstimulation, tangled with overthinking, is like living with a brain that’s always chasing a high and then reeling from the comedown. It’s intense, draining, and sometimes isolating, but it’s also what fuels my passion, creativity, and zest for life. If you’re reading this and feel the same, know that your sensitivity to the world is a strength, even when it feels like too much. We’re not broken; we’re just wired to feel every spark. I’m still learning to ride the waves, but every moment of calm feels like a victory.