ADHD, Heartbreak, and Healing: Why We Feel Everything More Deeply

My whole life, I felt like something was wrong with me. Like I didn’t quite fit in. Things that seemed effortless for other people felt unbearably hard for me.

As a child, I was overly emotional and constantly at war with my feelings. I knew early on that I didn’t experience the world the same way others did. When something painful or traumatic happened, people around me seemed able to cope and move on. Meanwhile, I got stuck — looping in the pain, unable to regulate or find release.

That dysregulation followed me into my 20s and 30s. I tried everything: traditional therapy, endless doctor visits, bloodwork, coaching, every self-help book I could get my hands on, and eventually spirituality. But nothing seemed to click. Where others could bounce back from breakups, follow through on goals, or build futures with vision boards and to-do lists, I kept collapsing under the weight of negative self-talk and shame.

Eventually, I started to believe maybe I was broken beyond repair. Maybe I just wasn’t fixable.

And then it happened. More than one therapist asked if I’d ever been evaluated for ADHD. That single question cracked everything open. Suddenly, the scattered puzzle pieces of my life began falling into place.

At 40, my healing finally began.

Why ADHD Makes Emotional Pain Feel So Intense

What I didn’t know for decades is that ADHD isn’t just about focus — it’s also deeply tied to emotional regulation. Scientists now know that ADHD brains have differences in how they regulate dopamine and norepinephrine, the chemicals that influence motivation, mood, and resilience.

For neurotypical people, these chemicals act like stabilizers — helping them move forward, see the “bigger picture,” and recover from setbacks. But for ADHD brains, dopamine is inconsistent. That means:

• Breakups or painful experiences can hit harder because our brains struggle to produce the neurochemicals that soothe us and remind us “this won’t last forever.”
• Time blindness keeps us locked in the present moment, making emotional pain feel endless.
• Hyperfocus — the same ability that lets us dive deep into passions — can turn against us, trapping us in cycles of rumination on what went wrong.

So when someone with ADHD says, “I can’t just move on,” it’s not weakness — it’s literally brain chemistry at work.

The Tools That Changed Everything

Once I understood this, I stopped blaming myself and started learning new ways to work with my brain instead of against it. Some strategies that shifted everything for me:

• Externalizing time: Setting small things to look forward to in the immediate future can help you snap out of “this will never end” by allowing to say back “that is not a truth, the Friday movie night I have planned with friends won’t feel like this.” ADHD brains have a hard time with far-out goals, like “one day I’ll meet the love of my life”, so keeping the focus on immediate activities your looking forward to is far more beneficial.
• Breaking tasks into small wins: so I could build momentum instead of drowning in overwhelm. Like — hey, we got up today and made sure to eat, this deserves chocolate!
• Nervous system regulation: breathwork, exercise, and grounding techniques to calm the physiological storms of big emotions.
• Flip the script on self-criticism: When you catch yourself spiraling into “I’m a failure”, pause and ask yourself “if my best friend were struggling with this, what would I say to them?” ADHD brains are prone to negative self talk because of dopamine dysregulation and a lifetime of feeling different. Practicing self-compassion interrupts that loop and builds emotional resilience your brain needs.

These weren’t “quick fixes,” but tools that gave me anchors when my emotions tried to pull me under.

From Shame to Superpower

The more I understood my brain, the more the shame melted away. I realized I wasn’t lazy, broken, or unfixable — I was simply wired differently.

And with that acceptance came a shift. I could finally see the beauty in the way my mind works. My intensity means I feel and love deeply. My hyperfocus lets me dive into passions with creativity and depth. My sensitivity makes me empathetic in ways others may never be.

What once felt like a curse has become my greatest strength.

I don’t see ADHD as something to fix anymore. I see it as part of my design — a different operating system that, when I learned how to work with it, unlocked not just healing but a sense of self-love I never thought possible.