Let's be honest: I talk fast, interrupt often, and cut people off mid-sentence. And it's not "disres…

Let's be honest: I talk fast, interrupt often, and cut people off mid-sentence. And it's not "disrespectful." It's just how my brain is wired. So, back in 2015-2016, I got my call records detailed. And I discovered that in one month, I spent 10,000 minutes on the phone. That's monthly! That's almost seven days of continuous conversation. And it wasn't because I talked to people that much. It was because I couldn't stop. Maybe I still can't 🤣 I call — and I start talking. I talk, talk, talk. The other person tries to get a word in — I interrupt. And I interrupt completely off-topic: they're talking about one thing, and I've already gone down a different rabbit hole, totally unrelated to the previous one. Or I suddenly cut them off halfway through and start something of my own. I talk very fast — because if I don't say it fast, I might forget. An external trigger goes off — a loud noise, a child runs up, asks something — and that's it. I lose the thread of the conversation. And I feel immense discomfort because I can't remember what we were talking about a second ago. But you know what really made my life easier? Voice messages. Because I can record them at a calm pace. Without pressure, without needing to get everything out at once. And it's not "laziness to type," it's an adaptation to my brain. But I don't always talk a lot. If there's no one in front of me whom I see is ready to listen, I'll be silent. Just silent. Not because I have nothing to say. But because there's no point in talking into the void. In kindergarten, I could be silent for weeks. The teachers even thought I couldn't talk and asked my mom about it. Even though I learned to speak in sentences at age one. I just didn't see worthy conversation partners or listeners. I generally considered all the other kids a "mad crowd." And I was two and a half to three years old at the time. Exactly at three, I stopped attending kindergarten. Meaning, I had these thoughts before the age of three: I saw only chaos in these children and got tired of them. But here's what I started noticing around age twenty-five (only at 25, damn it). Before that, I didn't think it could be a problem at all. I talk and talk — well, that's just how it is. And then I started noticing people's reactions. That the other person was uncomfortable. That they couldn't get a word in. That they lost interest because I wasn't listening. And it was an unpleasant discovery: I didn't want to be "that person who disregards others," but I couldn't stop. The realization came, but the brakes didn't. And that's where voice messages came to the rescue. It was a real lifesaver. Because I had the opportunity to express myself — everything that had built up, everything I wanted to say — without interrupting the listener. A voice message itself doesn't imply interruption. I speak — the person listens when it's convenient for them. They can pause, re-listen, reply. And no one suffers because I don't let them get a word in. For me, it's a way to be myself without causing discomfort to others. And for me, that's a huge difference. Are you already annoyed, but I'll say the word again - science 😄 First. It's called "pressured speech." With ADHD, the speed of thoughts often outpaces the speed of speech (and actions outpace thoughts). The brain generates ideas faster than the tongue can articulate them. And then a person talks fast, a lot, enthusiastically — just so they don't lose what's already "on the way." It's not "chattiness." It's a race between thought and mouth, and thought usually wins. Second. Interrupting is not "disrespect." It's impulsivity (lack of control) plus the fear of forgetting, and also reading the interlocutor. I've already mentally finished their sentence, concluded the topic, and moved on to another. Third. "Getting derailed by a noise" is a classic of working memory with ADHD. Working memory is the brain's notepad, where current information is held. And an external trigger acts like an eraser; with ADHD, it quickly wipes this memory clean. And the discomfort I describe is not "whims." It's a real loss that the brain experiences as a malfunction. Fourth. And silence without "your own" listener is about selectivity and hypersensitivity. The ADHD brain invests huge resources in communication, and if it doesn't see a return (attention, interest, respect), it simply doesn't spend the resource. It's like power saving. And my story from kindergarten is also about hypersensitivity to the social environment. Children with ADHD often notice inconsistencies and falseness in others' behavior very early on. And if the environment seems uninteresting or unsafe, a child might withdraw — not because they can't speak, but because they see no point. The teachers saw me as a non-verbal child. But in reality — a child who was already choosing who to talk to and about what. And my son, at kindergarten, would talk, but wouldn't "hear" when it was convenient for him and he saw no point in paying attention if it held no value for him. Conclusion. 10,000 minutes a month just on the phone is simply the scale that shows how much this machine runs without brakes. And the fact that I'm silent when there's no one to listen is about selectivity and resource saving: I don't expend myself on those who aren't ready to hear. And the fact that I choose voice messages is a strategy of a person who knows how their brain works and creates conditions where they can be themselves — and not interrupt others.