Focus And Noise Nd Brains

Nov 5, 2025

Focus? Depends on the Playlist.

There’s this running joke that people with ADHD can’t focus. Truth is, we can focus too hard, on the wrong thing, at the wrong time, for the wrong reason, while completely forgetting what we were originally supposed to be doing. Add a Zoom call or spreadsheet to the mix, and it becomes a full-contact sport.

But here’s the thing: the way we focus isn’t broken. It’s just wired differently. And the stuff that helps us focus? Often looks like distraction to everyone else.

Mining Shows Are My White Noise (But I Hate White Noise)

You know what gets me into a great working rhythm? Grown men digging in dirt.

Gold Rush. Curse of Oak Island. Outback Opal Hunters. If there’s a group of people using heavy equipment in remote areas, hoping to strike it rich but mostly just yelling about gravel, it’s probably playing in the background while I’m deep in a work session.

These shows are my white noise, but not actual white noise. Can’t stand that. The static hum, the artificial drone? No thanks. Give me repetition. Give me mild drama. Give me rugged Australians arguing over a quartz vein. It’s ambient chaos with just enough stimulation to keep the restless part of my brain entertained, without hijacking the part that needs to focus.

It sounds ridiculous, but this kind of low-stakes, predictable background TV helps me stay on task. The episodes blur together in a comforting rhythm. I’m not watching them, not really, I’m anchored by them. They hold the edges of my attention so the core can lock in.

Zoom Calls Are Torture (And Why I Paint 3D Prints During Them)

Let’s talk about Zoom. Or any video call, really. For neurodivergent folks, it’s like a gladiator arena of sensory input:

You’re staring at faces, trying to read social cues. Listening while waiting your turn to speak. Watching your own face in real time. Trying not to interrupt or lose your train of thought. Managing lag, tone, awkward pauses.

It’s exhausting. Not because we don’t care, but because it burns so many mental resources.

So yeah, sometimes I doodle. Sometimes I paint freshly 3D-printed minis. But only during long meetings where I’m in a passive listening role, not leading or actively presenting. And always off-camera. Not because I’m checked out, but because that minor physical activity helps me stay more present. It quiets the background noise in my head by giving it something small and repetitive to do. In fact, it helps me contextualize and retain information better.

That’s not disrespect. That’s adaptation.

In fact, studies have shown that fidgeting or light physical engagement can increase working memory and attention in people with ADHD. Our brains crave stimulation, and if they’re not getting it from the conversation, they’ll manufacture their own. Might as well direct it toward a paintbrush or sketchpad rather than spiraling into mental tangents.

Music is a Mood-Based Focus Tool

My music choices shift based on what I’m trying to accomplish.

If I’m working on creative—designing, writing, ideating—it’s all about rock, outlaw country, or folk. Something with a heartbeat. Grit and character. Those styles match the emotional texture of building something from nothing.

But if I’m staring down a financial model or a data-heavy deck? That’s when I need quiet acoustic, ambient classical, or even epic cinematic scores. No lyrics. Nothing I’ve heard before. Something that fills the space without grabbing my attention.

Why? Because familiarity pulls me in. Lyrics make my brain want to sing. But something spacious and unfamiliar gives me room to breathe and keeps the anxiety in check while I wrestle with Excel.

Neuroscience backs this up. For many ND folks:

Music with lyrics can hijack verbal processing. Instrumentals support focus by providing rhythm without semantic interruption. Dopamine regulation (which is often lower in ADHD brains) improves with stimulation—music can be that boost.

Funny enough, my dad couldn’t understand how I could do any kind of schoolwork with rock music blaring through my room. I still remember getting my first Walkman for my 12th birthday—game changer. If a teacher let us wear headphones in class, it was like a saving grace.

Now, decades later, I kind of wish I hadn’t cranked it so loud (RIP high frequencies). But back then, it was fuel.

My dad was more of an AM talk radio guy—CBS talk show types mumbling in the background while he tinkered in the garage. Meanwhile, my mom would blast music in the house while cooking or cleaning—always loud, always singing along. Whistling too. Our house had a rhythm, and everyone danced to their own beat.

My mom was from a small town in northern France, and my dad from Toronto. She loved classics—Mario Lanza, Edith Piaf—real icons. But the song that always stuck with me, the one I still love today for reasons I can’t fully explain, is Roger Miller’s “King of the Road.” No clue why that one burned in so deep, but every time I hear it, it feels like home.

Podcasts: Light Days, Light Minds

Podcasts are a whole other rhythm—and I do love them. But they’re best for me on light-task days or when I’m driving.

Shows like Modern Wisdom or Diary of a CEO are great—insightful, well-produced, and engaging—but they demand too much of the language part of my brain for deep work. If I’ve got a day where I’m organizing files, cleaning up workflows, or taking a solo drive, that’s when podcasts really shine. They become a kind of productive companion, feeding new ideas without needing my full analytical bandwidth.

For actual focus work? They go in the “background but not during crunch time” bucket.

“Just Eliminate Distractions” — A Neurotypical Fantasy

You ever hear productivity advice from someone who clearly doesn't have your brain?

"Just turn everything off and focus." "Work in silence." "Remove all stimulation."

Yeah, cool. That’s like telling a hummingbird to meditate.

For neurodivergent people, silence isn’t peaceful. It’s loud. Our brains fill it with noise, ideas, anxieties, background tasks, imaginary arguments, or TikTok jingles we haven’t heard in years. It’s not quiet—it’s unstructured chaos.

Which is why external structure helps. Whether it’s: Background TV Repetitive physical tasks Specific playlists Talking to ourselves out loud Visual timers or alarms These aren’t crutches. They’re strategies.

The way a diver needs gear to breathe underwater, we need these systems to work with how our attention naturally flows.

Here’s What Actually Works for Me

Everyone’s brain is different, but here’s what’s in my personal “focus toolkit”: Discovery/History Channel shows – Repetitive, simple, non-intrusive, oddly hopeful. Creative music – Rock, Americana, old outlaw country when I’m in the zone. Numbers work music – Ambient acoustic or unfamiliar orchestral. Long, slow, non-verbal. Zoom doodling – Drawing, painting, or messing with something tactile during meetings (passive listening roles only, always off camera). Turning off my camera – When possible, it helps reduce self-monitoring exhaustion. Ambient task pairing – Light physical movement with mental work (walking, pacing, etc.) Podcasts – Like Modern Wisdom or Diary of a CEO, perfect for driving or light-focus days.

Different Isn’t Wrong — It’s Just Different

We all focus differently. And for those of us who’ve spent years trying to contort ourselves into someone else’s definition of “productive,” it’s easy to internalize guilt or shame around how we work best.

But that ends here. Focus isn’t about being still. It’s about being present. And if painting a 3D-printed Mandalorian helmet while watching Oak Island reruns is what gets you through your quarterly planning session? Embrace it.

That’s not distraction. That’s alignment.

Let’s normalize different ways of working. And let’s stop pretending silence is the only path to productivity. Because sometimes, the quietest your brain gets—is when there’s just enough noise to drown out the chaos.