I’m writing this because I know I’m not the only one. If even one person out there is stuck, confused, or quietly falling apart the way I was — maybe this helps them feel less alone. Or maybe it helps them see their story a little clearer. This is my journey through ADHD and photography — two things that have shaped my life in ways I didn’t fully understand until recently. I have a dream I want to make happen: to be a photographer.

But not taking photos for other people — I want to take photos I love and share them with the world.

How? Through this blog. Through a YouTube channel.

But something’s been stopping me.

Last summer, I had the time and resources to try and make this dream happen. But something stopped me.

And it wasn’t my photos. It wasn’t a lack of ideas. It wasn’t even my average video editing skills.

I had — and still have — loads of ideas. Lack of ideas never stopped me.

I kept starting a video or project, then:

• “Nah, this sucks. Delete.”
• “I’ll do it later.”
• “No one will watch this.”
• “People will think I’m a try-hard idiot.”
• “If I tell people this, they’ll think I’m just attention-seeking.”
• “It’s morning — I’m too tired.”
• “It’s afternoon — I should be outside.”
• “It’s night — I can’t work now.”
• “I’m a useless piece of shit try-hard. Why bother? Just give up.”

I look back on my life, and even though the dreams have changed, that pattern has stayed the same.

I wanted to be an IFMGA ski and mountain guide.

The idea of a normal job, staying in one place, always sounded like torture.

I spent school just waiting for it to be over. I used to kill time staring out the window, daydreaming for hours. My mind was always somewhere else — imagining snow-covered mountains or future adventures. It was the only way I could survive the boredom. Waiting to escape and go see the world. Ski the world.

My dream of becoming an IFMGA guide never happened.

It was too hard.

But not because I couldn’t ski. Not because I couldn’t climb.

Because I didn’t have the guts to talk to the people I needed to talk to.

I started down the path — learning to ski better, getting avalanche and first aid certs. But in my head, I kept telling myself I’d fail. Years of nothing but failure at school had trained me to believe that. So I didn’t approach the people I needed to.

After high school, I went to Aoraki Polytechnic and did an outdoor recreation course. It was one of the best things I’ve ever done. I learned a lot, made great friends, and it brought me out of my shell.

But I couldn’t get the theory work done. No matter how much I loved the outdoors side of it, I couldn’t make the written part happen. I failed.

I watched my friends pass. It was painful.

I told myself I was just lazy or useless. I never told anyone how ashamed I felt. Even now, if I say I studied outdoor rec, I leave out the fact that I failed — I’m still embarrassed about it.

Looking back, it was just another red flag I didn’t have the words for at the time.

Ski instructing, for some reason, felt easier. It still let me be in the mountains, and it gave me the chance to travel. So I gave up on the guiding dream — just added it to the growing pile of things I’d failed at, and quietly moved on.

Fast forward 20 years —

I still want one of my wild, stupid, unrealistic dreams to come true.

I want to share the beauty of nature through my lens — and hopefully help others feel the same connection I do when I’m out there.

Being out in nature makes me feel calm. Like I belong there — like it’s the one place where my mind finally shuts up for a bit.

But I was banging my head against the wall. Two months passed, then three, then four — and I’d made no progress.

I had a million ideas about how to do this. But I couldn’t turn them into an organized list. Couldn’t set clear goals.

My room, my office, and my brain all looked the same: complete chaos that I just couldn’t get under control.

I read productivity books. Watched videos.

It was all good advice — but I couldn’t seem to put any of it into practice.

Fuck.

I was going fucking mental.

I wanted this so badly — so why the hell couldn’t I do it?

I was in a dark place. I hated myself. I felt like I couldn’t do anything right.

Time to get help. Figure this out.

But I’d never talked to anyone about this stuff before. It felt weird. Like I was opening myself up to be rejected.

I talked to a psychiatrist online. I told him everything. He was awesome. Then he asked: “Have you ever looked into ADHD?”

I laughed. ADHD? That’s just for hyper kids, right?

But it stuck with me. Still, therapy was expensive. And the next day I felt okay again, so I told myself, “Of course it’s not that,” and dropped it.

But soon enough I was overwhelmed and frustrated again.

I talked to a few friends — and to my surprise, ADHD came up again.

That got me thinking. I started reading about inattentive ADHD, and suddenly it all started to make sense.

Why I was bored out of my mind in school. Why I daydreamed nonstop. Why I used to blurt out random shit and embarrass myself — which eventually taught me to just shut up unless I really trusted the people around me.

I was living in Hokkaido, Japan, at the time. I searched online for help but found nothing in English up here. Eventually I found some mental health clinics in Tokyo that spoke English and reached out.

I did a mix of online sessions and a few where I had to fly to Tokyo. A few months later, I was diagnosed with ADHD.

They also diagnosed me with anxiety, and a learning difficulty called dyscalculia — basically the number version of dyslexia. The psychiatrist said the anxiety likely came from living so long with undiagnosed ADHD. Years of trying hard, failing, and never knowing why.

Now I knew.

Better yet — I had a way forward. I could learn to work with my ADHD instead of constantly fighting against it.

It was such a relief. I wasn’t just a dumb, lazy loser. I wasn’t broken.

Eight months later, here I am.

Over the winter I was ski instructing and doing some ski photography for others. It paid the bills and gave me just enough to buy time this summer — time to give the dream another shot.

I started reading everything I could about ADHD — not just the challenges, but how to work with it instead of against it. Photography, especially in nature, became a form of therapy for me. I wrote more about that in this post, if you’re curious. I began to understand the strengths ADHD gives me — like creativity, hyperfocus, and seeing the world differently — as well as the tools I need to manage the tougher parts, like procrastination, overwhelm, and disorganization.

I took a creative coaching course with Rick Bebbington (creative coaching) — a brilliant photographer who runs a YouTube channel for photographers. He helped me take the chaos in my head and shape it into something solid. I could finally break it down into goals. Into something I could act on.

So I started this blog.

I learned WordPress on the fly. Started figuring out SEO. I’ve managed to get a few blogs out — maybe two a month. Hopefully more soon.
I’ve also been trying to make videos again. Still hard. Still slow. Hearing my voice on camera makes me cringe.

I’ve got a long way to go. I’m moving way too slowly.

But now — at least — I’m moving.

I’m learning how to work with my ADHD. Slowly, but surely.

If any of this resonated — if you’ve felt stuck, lost, or like your brain’s working against you — you’re not alone.

I’m still figuring it out, one messy step at a time. But I’m moving forward.

If you want to follow along, see the world through my lens, or explore more stories like this, check out the rest of the blog. And if you’d rather not miss a post, you can join the email list below.

No spam. Just honest stories, photography, and some realness from someone still learning as he goes.