Riding the ADHD Hyperactivity Wave: My Life in Constant Motion

I’ve always been the person who can’t sit still, whose thoughts race faster than a speeding car, and whose energy seems to have no off switch. When I was diagnosed with ADHD, specifically the hyperactive-impulsive presentation, it was like someone handed me a manual to my own brain. ADHD hyperactivity isn’t just about bouncing off the walls (though I’ve done my fair share of that). It’s a relentless inner drive that makes stillness feel impossible and impulsivity a constant companion. Writing this blog post is a challenge—not because I don’t have the words, but because my body and mind are begging me to do ten other things at once. Here’s what ADHD hyperactivity feels like for me and the real-life hurdles it throws my way.

What Is ADHD Hyperactivity?

For me, ADHD hyperactivity is like having a motor inside me that’s always running. My brain and body crave action, stimulation, and movement, and when they don’t get it, I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. ADHD has three presentations: inattentive, hyperactive-impulsive, and combined. The hyperactive-impulsive type, which I have, is marked by physical and mental restlessness, a need to move, and a tendency to act or speak without thinking. It’s not just about being “energetic”—it’s an inability to dial it down, even when I know I should.

My thoughts are a whirlwind, jumping from one idea to the next before I can catch them. My body follows suit—I fidget, tap my foot, or pace without realizing it. And impulsivity? That’s my brain’s favourite trick, pushing me to blurt out thoughts, make snap decisions, or dive into something new before I’ve thought it through. It’s exhilarating and exhausting, all at once.

The Real-Life Struggles

Let’s talk about what this looks like in everyday life. One of the biggest challenges is sitting still—physically and mentally. At work, I’m the guy who’s always shifting in his chair, clicking a pen, or getting up to “stretch” (aka pace the hallway). Meetings are torture; I’m itching to move or talk, and my mind races ahead, making it hard to wait my turn. I’ve been told I come across as impatient or intense, which isn’t my intention—it’s just my brain moving at warp speed.

Socially, hyperactivity can make things tricky. I love connecting with people, but I tend to dominate conversations, interrupting or finishing others’ sentences because my thoughts are spilling over. I’ve accidentally offended friends by blurting out something without thinking, like a joke that lands wrong or a comment that’s too blunt. My impulsivity also means I’m the first to say “yes” to plans—dinner, a road trip, a spontaneous tattoo—but I don’t always think through the consequences, like how I’ll afford it or manage my time.

Daily tasks are a battle, too. I start projects with a burst of enthusiasm, but I struggle to finish them because my brain is already chasing the next shiny thing. My apartment is a testament to this—half-painted walls, a guitar I swore I’d learn, and a pile of laundry I’ll “get to later.” Chores that require calm focus, like paying bills or organizing my desk, feel like climbing Everest. I’d rather be moving, creating, or doing something that matches my energy.

And then there’s the impulsivity. I’ve made plenty of spur-of-the-moment decisions—buying things I don’t need, signing up for a marathon I didn’t train for, or quitting a job because I was bored. Some of these choices have led to great adventures, but others have left me scrambling to clean up the mess. It’s like my brain has a “do it now, think later” button, and I’m still learning how to pause before I press it.

The Emotional Toll

Hyperactivity isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, too. I feel things intensely, and my moods can shift as fast as my thoughts. One minute, I’m buzzing with excitement over a new idea; the next, I’m frustrated because I can’t slow down enough to make it happen. The constant need for stimulation can leave me feeling restless and unfulfilled, especially on days when life demands routine or patience.

There’s also the judgment. Growing up, I was the “too much” kid—too loud, too energetic, too impulsive. Those labels stuck, and even now, I sometimes worry I’m overwhelming people. The guilt hits hard when I interrupt someone I care about or realize I’ve derailed a group project with my enthusiasm. I know my hyperactivity is part of what makes me creative and fun, but it’s also a source of self-doubt. Am I too much? Will I ever learn to slow down?

The exhaustion is real, too. Being in constant motion—mentally and physically—takes a toll. By the end of the day, I’m often wired but worn out, like a battery that’s been drained but keeps sparking. Sleep can be elusive because my brain doesn’t know how to shut off, replaying conversations or buzzing with ideas.

Finding Ways to Cope

Living with ADHD hyperactivity is a wild ride, but I’m learning to work with it. Movement is my friend—I channel my energy into exercise, like running or dancing, which helps me feel grounded. Fidget tools, like stress balls or spinning rings, keep my hands busy during meetings or conversations. I’ve also started using timers to stay on task and give myself permission to take “movement breaks” when I need them.

For impulsivity, I’m working on building pauses. Counting to five before I speak or making a rule to sleep on big decisions has saved me from some regrets. Structure helps, too—calendars, reminders, and lists keep me from spiraling into chaos. Therapy and coaching have been huge in understanding my brain and building strategies that play to my strengths.

And honestly, I’m learning to embrace the upsides. My hyperactivity fuels my creativity, my ability to think on my feet, and my knack for diving into new experiences. I’m the person who brings energy to a room, who’s always up for an adventure, and who can juggle a million ideas at once. It’s not always easy, but it’s who I am.

The Bottom Line

ADHD hyperactivity is like living with a spark that never dims. It’s a blessing and a challenge, driving me to create, explore, and live loudly while also testing my patience and self-control. If you’re reading this and relate, know that your energy is a gift—even when it feels like a lot. We’re not “too much”; we’re just wired for motion. I’m still learning to ride this wave, but every day, I’m getting better at surfing.