NOTES FROM A DISTRACTED BRAIN

Some days I open my laptop, blink, and somehow it’s already 15:47. I’ve clicked through three tabs, two email drafts, five half-formed ideas, and still haven’t finished the one thing I meant to start with.

I’m not proud of it. But I’m also not surprised anymore.

I’ve learned that distraction doesn’t always feel chaotic. Sometimes it feels productive, like I’m moving. Thinking. Doing things. But if I zoom out, all I’ve really done is orbit around the thing I was avoiding.

Distraction isn’t just TikTok and dopamine. It’s also:

• Rewriting the same sentence five times.

• Suddenly deciding the kitchen needs to be cleaned.

• Watching videos about productivity instead of doing the thing.

What’s strange is that I usually know what I need to do. I just can’t seem to make that knowing translate into movement. And when that gap appears, between clarity and action, distraction rushes in to fill the space.

Sometimes it’s internal: noise, restlessness, doubt.
Sometimes it’s external: messages, notifications, the idea that I should be doing something more useful.

Either way, I lose track of time, and of myself.

I don’t have a perfect fix. But what helps is noticing sooner. Naming it. “Ah, here we are again.” Taking a breath. Choosing one small next step. And accepting that today might not be high-output, but it can still be intentional.

I used to think distraction meant I was lazy or undisciplined. Now I see it more as a signal, not that I’m broken, but that my brain is trying to protect me from something it doesn’t want to face. That doesn’t make it ideal. But it makes it human. And maybe that’s enough for now.