ADHD Axioms: 6 Simple Rules That Changed How I Thrive

ADHD Axioms: 6 Simple Rules That Changed How I Thrive

Let me tell you about the time I almost drowned in my own good intentions.

You know that frantic moment when your ADHD brain collects coping strategies like acorns before winter? I had sticky notes colonizing my walls, reminders haunting my phone, and enough self-help mantras to stock a yoga studio. “Hurrying is kryptonite!” shouted my bathroom mirror. “Choice is friction!” scolded my fridge.

Then came the morning I stared at Rule #16 (“Never make rules ending in 6”) and realized my survival system had become the exact chaos it was meant to fix. The cruel irony? My carefully curated ADHD toolkit now required… extra executive function to manage.

That’s when Amber Beckett, my neurospicy genius friend from The Hello Code, dropped this truth bomb: “You’re trying to memorize the dictionary when you should be learning the alphabet.” Her challenge? To dig through my mental junk drawer and find the patterns beneath the pandemonium.

What emerged changed everything.

The Science of Simplicity

The Oxford English Dictionary defines an axiom as “a statement so evident that it’s accepted as the foundation for reasoning.” Ancient geometry had Euclid. Modern physics has Einstein. My ADHD brain? It needed principles sturdy enough to withstand Monday mornings yet flexible enough for last-minute plan changes.

Here’s how we transformed 16 fussy rules into six life-giving axioms:

  1. The Stuff Doctrine
    “Objects want homes, not tasks.”
    This axiom flips the script on traditional organization advice. Instead of focusing on what to do with an item (e.g., “Put keys on the hook”), it focuses on where it naturally belongs. ADHD brains think spatially, not functionally. That perfume bottle? It “lives” with sunglasses because both belong to the “Things That Make Me Feel Human” district. Real-world scenario: Last month, I spent 20 minutes searching for my headphones—only to find them buried under a stack of mail. Now, they “live” on my bedside table because that’s where I use them most. No more frantic searches before Zoom calls. Neuroscience nugget: ADHD brains struggle with object permanence—if we can’t see it, it doesn’t exist. Assigning “homes” to objects ensures they’re always where we expect them, reducing cognitive load. Try This Instead: Identify three items you frequently misplace (e.g., keys, chargers, notebooks). Ask yourself: “Where would this object naturally want to live?” Assign a spot based on where you actually use it, not where it “should” go.
  2. The Time Paradox
    “Five minutes now saves three hours later.”
    ADHD brains experience time as liquid—it’s fluid, unpredictable, and easy to lose track of. This axiom emphasizes taking small, proactive steps to prevent future overwhelm. For example, setting phone alarms for starting transitions (not just appointments) cut my late arrivals by 70%. Real-world scenario: I used to procrastinate on packing for trips until the night before, leading to sleepless stress fests. Now, I spend five minutes each day for a week gathering essentials. By departure day, I’m 80% packed—and 100% calmer. Neuroscience nugget: ADHD brains struggle with time estimation and future planning. Breaking tasks into tiny, immediate steps triggers dopamine release, making them more manageable. Try This Instead: Identify one recurring task that always feels overwhelming (e.g., meal prep, laundry, filing papers). Spend just five minutes on it today—before it becomes a crisis. Notice how it feels less daunting tomorrow.
  3. The Energy Compass
    “Follow what fuels you, flee what drains you.”
    Instead of forcing myself into rigid routines, this axiom helps me map my energy peaks and valleys. For example, I now write during my “golden hours” (mid-morning) and save mundane tasks like email for my post-lunch slump. It’s not about being productive all the time—it’s about aligning tasks with my natural rhythms. Real-world scenario: Last Tuesday’s grocery meltdown occurred because I tried to shop after a grueling work meeting. Instead of forcing it, I now schedule errands during my “recharge windows” (like right after a walk). Neuroscience nugget: ADHD brains thrive on intrinsic motivation. When we align tasks with our energy levels, dopamine release becomes more consistent, making tasks feel less like chores. Try This Instead: Track your energy levels for a week. Note when you feel most alert and when you’re dragging. Schedule your most demanding tasks during your peak times—and give yourself permission to rest during the lows.
  4. The Permission Imperative
    “If it’s not a ‘hell yes,’ it’s a ‘not now.’”
    ADHD brains crave novelty but often overcommit. This axiom reminds me to pause before saying yes to anything. It’s about giving myself permission to prioritize what truly matters—and letting go of the rest without guilt. Real-world scenario: I used to RSVP “maybe” to every event, hoping I’d magically feel up to it. Spoiler: I didn’t. Now, I ask myself: “Am I excited about this, or am I just afraid of missing out?” Neuroscience nugget: Overcommitment triggers decision fatigue, which depletes our already-limited executive function. Saying “no” preserves mental bandwidth for what truly energizes us. Try This Instead: Before committing to anything, ask: “Does this align with my priorities, or am I just trying to please someone else?” If it’s not a clear yes, it’s a no—or at least a “let me check my calendar.”
  5. The Anchor Principle
    “One stable habit can hold an entire day together.”
    Instead of trying to build a perfect morning routine, I focus on one non-negotiable anchor. For me, it’s drinking a glass of water before coffee. This small act creates a domino effect, grounding my day even when everything else feels chaotic. Real-world scenario: On a particularly hectic day, I forgot to eat lunch but still drank my water. That tiny anchor kept me from spiraling into “hangry” territory. Neuroscience nugget: Habits reduce cognitive load by automating repetitive tasks. For ADHD brains, one stable habit can serve as a mental reset button. Try This Instead: Identify one small habit that feels manageable—like stretching for two minutes or writing down three things you’re grateful for. Commit to it daily, no matter what.
  6. The Kryptonite Clause
    “Identify your kryptonite, then lock it away.”
    This axiom is about recognizing what consistently derails you—and creating systems to neutralize it. For me, endless scrolling is kryptonite, so I keep my phone in a drawer during work hours. It’s not about willpower; it’s about making the problematic behavior inconvenient. Real-world scenario: I used to lose hours to Instagram, only to feel exhausted and unproductive. Now, I use app blockers during focused work sessions, and my productivity has skyrocketed. Neuroscience nugget: ADHD brains are wired for immediate gratification. By removing temptations, we reduce the likelihood of impulsive decisions. Try This Instead: What’s your kryptonite? Is it social media, procrastination, or overthinking? Find a way to make it harder to engage with—a blocker, a timer, or even a “kryptonite buddy” to keep you accountable.

Why This Actually Works

Traditional productivity advice fails ADHDers because it assumes:

  1. Consistent energy levels (laughable)
  2. Linear time perception (delusional)
  3. Guilt as effective motivation (dangerous)

These axioms work by:
Leveraging pattern recognition (our neural superpower)
Reducing decision points (the real “friction” culprit)
Creating fractal solutions (one principle adapts to 8 scenarios)

Your Turn to Experiment

I’ve left intentional gaps in this system – not because I forgot (well, maybe a little), but because your ADHD experience needs breathing room. Try:

  1. The 3-Second Redesign
    Next time you lose something, ask: “Where would this object want to live?” not “Where should it go?”
  2. The Anti-To-Do List
    Write three things that always drain you (mine: choosing outfits, replying to maybe-invites, estimating task duration). Now – what axiom could prevent these?

This isn’t about perfection. My kitchen still hosts a “Miscellaneous Containers of Unknown Purpose” cabinet. But now when chaos comes knocking, I’ve got six trusted allies whispering: “We’ve seen this before. Here’s the pattern. You’ve got this.”

And reader? So do you.

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