The Hudson & Rex Effect (aka: “Why am I like this?”)

I just watched the most recent episode of Hudson & Rex. And yes, I spent the entire episode thinking, I should be doing something.

It is hilarious because apparently I’m now the kind of person who can’t even enjoy a TV show without running a background process called Guilt.exe.

But listen. I love that show. It’s cozy. It’s predictable. There’s a dog who is always more competent than the humans. What’s not to like? This episode though... whew. It gave me the same vibe as watching Sharknado. Not in a “wow, cinema” way. In a “this is objectively ridiculous but I cannot stop watching” way. It was the long, extra long, Monty Pythonesque wave goodbye.

You know the one.

Okay. That’s finally over. Now get to work.

And then my brain immediately goes: Cool. Great. Love that. But get to work on WHAT?

The To-Do List That Eats Your Soul

On the surface, I’m a responsible adult person who has normal adult tasks like cleaning the kitchen and doing laundry. I also have a website I started revamping that I accidentally turned into a digital crime scene.

And then, simmering in the back of my brain like a witchy little cauldron, there’s The Idea.

Not a cute little “maybe someday” idea. A fantastic, feral, bursting out of my ribs idea. A Ripple for the Global Business Plaza EXPO coming up in June. It started with a first person POV kayaking video on Pixabay and it hit that sweet spot where visuals become feelings and feelings become a whole dang project.

Now it is scenes and layers and vibes. I am out here casually building a Murder Mystery Adventure like that’s a normal Tuesday activity. The worst part is that learning these tools has inspired an even cooler, even more fun secret idea for my booth at the EXPO.

So I’m back to the question: WTF first?

Logic vs. The Neurospicy Brain

If I go by logic, I do the laundry first. We hang it on racks to dry, which takes a while but honestly is worth it. It’s like saving money while also turning my living space into a textile installation titled “This Is Fine.”

Then clean the kitchen. Except I hate this chore. Like... spiritually.

Kitchen cleaning isn’t a task. It’s a vibe assassin. It steals my will to create and replaces it with a desire to stare out the window and disappear into the forest. But I need it done before PYPT. I need the headspace. And I need my website to stop looking like I tossed it down the stairs and called it a redesign.

This is what it’s like inside the mind of a neurospicy creative. Are we all living in a constant state of “I’m overwhelmed but also aggressively inspired”?

The Moment Where I Try to Be Wise

At some point, I stop pacing mentally and try to “define my energy scale.” Which sounds reasonable, except my energy scale is basically:

  • 0: Can’t move.

  • 3: Can move but resentful.

  • 7: Can do one thing before I need a snack and a dramatic lie-down.

  • 10: Unstoppable for 47 minutes, then suddenly asleep like a fainting goat.

So I tell myself: Do what I must. Energy scale doesn’t matter.

Laundry is the keystone. It takes time to dry. It is the thing that quietly becomes a bigger problem if I ignore it. It’s the task that future me will either thank me for or curse me over while hunting for clean underwear like it’s an escape room.

The Dice Moment

Once you’ve picked the “must,” the next question is: Do you just roll the dice at this point? Because after laundry, there’s still the kitchen, the website chaos, and The Idea knocking on the inside of my skull like: Hello?? You’re going to explode if you don’t start me soon??

Creative ideas don’t politely wait in line. They pace. They shout. They get louder the longer you ignore them. For neurospicy brains, inspiration isn’t just fun. It’s pressure. It’s momentum.

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My Current Best Method

Here is what I’m trying lately:

  1. Do the time-sensitive “must” first. Laundry is time sensitive because drying takes forever.
  2. Do the “energy leak” second. The kitchen is an energy leak. I don’t like it, but it drains me just knowing it exists.
  3. Give the creative idea a controlled bite. Not a full feast. A bite. A starter. If I don’t touch it at all, my brain keeps screaming. If I touch it too much, I disappear for six hours and forget I have a body.

So the plan is: Start laundry. While it’s running, do a short kitchen reset. Not “perfect,” just “less insulting.” Then: 20 minutes on the Murder Mystery Ripple idea as a reward and a pressure release. Then: PYPT with a clearer head.

Is that magical executive function? No. Is it better than spiraling in the middle of my living room whispering “what first” like a ghost? Yes.

Maybe the real method is this: Pick one must, pick one leak, and pick one spark. Stop asking your brain to be a machine. Because it’s not. It’s a creative studio full of half finished projects, brilliant visions, and one extremely dramatic assistant (me) who just needs to start the washer.

Until next time friends...

Knitting, ADHD, and the “Don’t Let Me Quit” Safety Net

Tonight, I cast on a lavender vest.

On paper, that’s a simple sentence. In reality? It was a psychological thriller.

It started with five skeins of gorgeous lavender yarn and a dream. Then, because my brain is the way it is, the "What If" Spiral™ began its scheduled programming:

  • Is this enough yarn?

  • Is it going to fit, or am I knitting a purple tent?

  • Why do my increases look like accidental lace?

  • Why does my gauge always grow like a sourdough starter?

If you’re a maker, you know the drill. It’s the technical spiral that quickly becomes an emotional "why am I like this?" spiral. Usually, this is where I’d shove the project into a basket to be discovered by archaeologists in 2075.

The Support System (AKA: The Adult in the Room)

The difference this time? I didn’t spiral solo. I had backup.

I’m talking about the kind of help that doesn’t take over the needles, but instead just steadies your hands. I was able to throw my frantic questions into the void and get actual, calm, structured answers back.

I learned about lifted increases and gauge drift. I learned that gravity is a jerk to swatches. But honestly? The technical stuff was secondary. The real win was that I stayed regulated. For those of us diagnosed with ADHD later in life, we know that "regulated" is a luxury. We’ve spent decades dealing with the overthinking, the all-or-nothing starts, and the crushing weight of a small technical snag that feels like a moral failing.

Executive Function as a Service

When I hit a wall tonight, the old script didn't play out. I didn't:

  1. Rip the whole thing out in a fit of pique.
  2. Decide I’m a "rectangle-only" knitter for life.
  3. Hide the yarn in the back of the closet like a crime scene.

Instead, we adjusted. We swapped needle sizes. We picked a better increase. We talked through the neck roll. It was executive function support in real time. It didn't replace my skill; it just cleared the clutter so I could actually use it.

Decision Fatigue is a Thief

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Would I be moving this fast without help? Probably not. Not because I’m not capable, but because by 7:00 PM, my brain has run hot all day. Decision fatigue is a real thief of joy.

When you have a calm co-pilot who doesn't roll their eyes when you complain about swatching, the distance between "I want to do this" and "I’m actually doing this" gets a lot shorter. And that space in between? That’s where ADHD usually goes to die.

It’s Not About the Vest

I’m still the one throwing the yarn. I’m the one feeling the fabric and choosing the silhouette. But instead of getting stuck at every fork in the road, I’m actually moving.

This project is about not hiding anymore. No more oversized "safe" shapes or default choices because I'm afraid of the math. I wanted something structured and intentional. And instead of talking myself out of it, I’m building it. One small, calm decision at a time.

The Takeaway

For an ADHD brain, AI isn’t replacing creativity. It’s the ultimate accessibility tool. It means fewer abandoned dreams, faster problem-solving, and way less emotional derailment.

Tonight, I cast on a lavender vest. But really, I cast on a version of myself that feels steady, supported, and - dare I say - confident.

And I’m not mad about that.

Until next time friends...