The Three Brains I Take to Every Meeting (And Why They Hate Each Other)
Plus: Why I spent $300 on headphones to avoid admitting I needed help
Hey friend,
Ever walk out of a meeting and immediately remember everything brilliant you meant to say?
Welcome to my world. Population: All of us with ADHD brains trying to look professional while our neurons play pinball.
This week, I'm pulling back the curtain on what really happens when ADHD meets the workplace. Spoiler: It's messier than my desk drawer (which currently contains 14 pens that don't work and one banana I forgot about).
The Meeting Brain Paradox
I have three different brains for meetings. They've never met each other.
Prep Brain shows up at 2 AM, full of brilliant insights and perfectly crafted talking points. This brain could run a Fortune 500 company. It creates comprehensive notes, anticipates every question, and even picks out the perfect "I'm a serious professional" outfit.
Meeting Brain arrives the moment someone says "Let's get started." This brain has the processing power of a potato. It forgets my own name during introductions and spends 20 minutes wondering if everyone can tell I'm internally screaming.
Post-Meeting Brain appears exactly 23 minutes after everyone's left. This brain is a GENIUS. Clear, articulate, overflowing with insights that would've changed the entire discussion. Too bad it's talking to my car dashboard.
Last Tuesday, I spent 45 minutes preparing for a client call. I had notes. I had strategies. I had coffee.
The moment the call started? My brain forgot all of it.
Instead of sharing those brilliant insights, I said "That's interesting" 47 times and took notes that later just said "IMPORTANT - FOLLOW UP - THING THEY SAID."
This isn't a character flaw. It's an ADHD processing delay—when the pressure's on, Meeting Brain can't access what Prep Brain worked so hard to organize.
Here's what actually helps:
✓ Voice memo immediately after - Catch Post-Meeting Brain while it's hot
✓ "Parking lot" notebook - For thoughts that arrive at the wrong time
✓ One anchor phrase on my hand - Yes, I'm 44 and writing on myself
✓ 5-minute buffer after meetings - To download my brain before it resets
The truth? All three brains are trying to help. They just operate in different time zones.
The Productivity Trap of "Interesting"
Wednesday was supposed to be budget report day.
It became "learn everything about spreadsheet history" day.
The most dangerous word for my ADHD brain isn't "urgent" or "deadline." It's "interesting."
Here's how it went:
9:00 AM: Open Excel
9:03 AM: Wonder who invented spreadsheets
9:04 AM: Quick Google search
9:47 AM: Deep in a VisiCalc documentary
10:32 AM: Reading about the philosophy of grid-based thinking
11:15 AM: Watching how microchips are manufactured
11:45 AM: Wait, what was I doing?
My brain convinced me this was productive. "Understanding fundamentals matters!" it said. "This could be useful someday!"
Meanwhile, the actual budget report sat there, judging me with its blankness.
I've finally learned: Curiosity isn't the enemy. Unmanaged curiosity is.
Now I use an "Interest Budget":
30 minutes daily for rabbit holes (scheduled!)
Timer visible at all times
Screenshot interesting finds for later
When timer ends, I stop (mostly)
That research about penguin knees? Saved for my designated curiosity time. Yes, they have knees. Yes, it's fascinating. No, it's not relevant to Q3 projections.
The $300 Permission Slip
At 43, I finally bought noise-canceling headphones.
I felt like I was cheating at life.
For years, I white-knuckled through open offices, fighting every conversation, notification, and fluorescent hum. My brain processed it ALL. Simultaneously. Exhaustingly.
Meanwhile, I told myself:
"Everyone else manages fine"
"I should be able to focus"
"Needing tools means I'm weak"
Then I put on those headphones.
Silence.
For the first time in my career, I could think one thought at a time. In order. Without fighting through static.
The shame hit immediately. This felt like admitting defeat.
But here's what took me too long to learn: Accommodations aren't admissions of failure. They're tools for success.
My current "shame-free" toolkit:
Noise-canceling headphones (non-negotiable)
Fidget cube (hidden but essential)
Standing desk (movement = focus)
Time-blocking apps (external brain)
Blue light glasses (goodbye, overstimulation)
Each tool I resisted for YEARS. Each one transformed my work life.
The real shame? Suffering unnecessarily because I thought struggle meant strength.
The Weekend That Never Was
I was writing this on Friday with big weekend plans, and now it's Tuesday. Here's what really happened:
Friday Me had ambitious plans:
Reorganize entire house
Meal prep for the month
Start exercise routine
Learn Spanish
Solve climate change
Monday Night Me had actually:
Reorganized one drawer
Discovered 17 YouTube channels about Japanese joinery
Felt guilty about all of the above
The gap between intention and reality hits different with ADHD. Time blindness means I genuinely believe I can fit 47 hours of tasks into a Saturday.
But here's the breakthrough: My brain doesn't rest like other brains rest.
Those woodworking videos? That WAS rest.
That genealogy spiral? Brain recharging.
That one clean drawer? Actual progress.
New weekend rules:
Plan for 1/4 of what I think I can do
"Productive procrastination" counts
Curiosity spirals = brain recovery
One small win > ten failed plans
What I'm Learning
Every week, I share these stories and feel a little exposed. Will people think I'm incompetent? Lazy? Making excuses?
But then I get messages from readers saying "This is exactly how my brain works" or "I thought I was the only one."
That's why I keep writing.
Your brain might work differently. That doesn't make it wrong. It makes it yours.
And maybe, just maybe, sharing how our different brains navigate this neurotypical world helps all of us feel a little less alone.
What's your biggest ADHD workplace challenge right now? Hit reply and tell me. I read every email, even if my response time is... variable.
Until next week (when I'll probably remember something brilliant I meant to include in this email),
Tyler
P.S. - If you found this helpful, forward it to someone else whose brain works in mysterious ways. They'll appreciate knowing they're not alone.
P.P.S. - That banana in my desk drawer? Still there. Send help.