It’s no secret that people with ADHD make fiercely loyal friends and partners — sometimes to a fault — but this allegiance doesn’t stop at relationships. The bond felt with things dedicates many of us to a single product or routine that “feels right.” We often resist change, because once we find the one thing we love, we’re committed long beyond its deteriorating color, scent, or shelf life – or the dictates of polite society. Take, for instance, my lipstick. Or literally any other product in my makeup drawer.

On a sunny Southern California morning, I excitedly put on my long-planned outfit: a royal blue cropped rugby shirt, a yellow pleated exercise miniskirt, red heart-shaped sunglasses, and of course, red lipstick. My friend Liv donned fairy wings and glitter galore. Looking in the mirror, I felt a frisson of delight. We were dopamine-dressed and DisneyBound  – about to make the happiest place on Earth even happier.

When I eat food I love, I do a happy dance. When I get exciting news, I jump for joy. And when I wear fun clothes? I spin and laugh and revel. Before I’d heard the terms “autistic joy” or “dopamine dressing,” I just knew that life was hard, but there was massive, full-body joy to be had if I sought it out.

I’ve been known to lose sleep to the fantasy of travel. Lit only by my laptop screen, I’ve spent hours staring at flickering images of Tuscan villas and Costa Rican treehouses, adding them to my “Wanderlust” Pinterest board, my excitement doubling with every new search result. But when my alarm goes off, and I inevitably return to my laptop, the horror: 50 tabs across 3 windows stare back at me.

It’s 2 am in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, and I’m wide awake. The air conditioner hums like a jet engine, neon signs bleed through thin curtains, and the start-and-stop of motorbikes outside makes my body jolt. As a neurodivergent traveler, these details don’t fade into the background. They overwhelm me, deeply.