Why Your ADHD Brain Keeps Revisiting the Same Painful Thoughts — and How to Make it Stop

One metaphor, one muddy horse, and a whole new way to handle ADHD rumination

🧠 TL;DR – Too Long Didn’t Read

• If you have ADHD, your brain is like a wild mustang 🐎

• You are not the horse. You’re the rider — the one holding the reins, trying to stay on and steer toward what matters.

• The goal isn’t to break in your horse — it’s to befriend her. You’re in this together, companions for life. She’s the only horse you’ve got!

• Your ADHD brain craves dopamine, and it learns to seek it from intense emotional loops like rumination, self-blame, or spirals.

• These patterns are like familiar watering holes — they’re swampy, but they deliver a hit.

• When you react, your brain gets what it wants. When you pause and gently redirect, your brain starts to learn: we don’t drink there anymore.

• And when it all feels like too much? Remember — there are a lot of us out here, riding our wild mustangs, getting bucked off and climbing back on. You’re not alone 💛

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We all know the feeling — the constant tug-of-war inside us. Between the part of us that genuinely wants change…and the part that feels incapable of it.

The part that intends to follow through, stay calm, and make progress — and the part that ditches that plan the moment something more instantly gratifying walks by. There’s the part of us that shows up to therapy or coaching to talk about our struggles — and the part that’s to blame for said struggles – the version of us that sets up the app blocker to lock us out of Instagram at 8 PM — and the version of us that responds in genuine shock and betrayal when it does…

This paradox is part of being human, but for those of us with ADHD, the tension is louder, faster, and harder to manage. Recently, my own twist on a popular metaphor has helped a few of my clients make sense of this chaos, delivering not just insight but a kind of internal exhale and a renewed sense of hope. And when I see something shift for someone in real time, something that brings ease where there was tension, you know I’ve gotta share it.

So saddle up, my friends — this one’s worth the ride.

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The rider & the elephant metaphor

In his 2006 book The Happiness Hypothesis, psychologist Jonathan Haidt introduced a powerful metaphor for the inner conflict that lives in all of us. He describes the human experience as a journey shared by two parts of the self: the Rider and the Elephant. The Rider is our rational, planning side — the one who sees the path and genuinely wants to follow it. The Elephant represents our emotional, impulsive side — strong, reactive, and fueled by instinct and craving. And while the Rider may hold the reins, it’s the Elephant who provides the power — and ultimately decides which direction the whole system moves.

It’s a helpful metaphor. But if you have ADHD, there’s one crucial thing you need to know right out of the gate:

You’re not riding an elephant — you’re riding a wild mustang

Elephants are powerful, yes — but they’re also slow, steady, and relatively calm…three words few ADHDers would use to describe their internal experience. Our inner world is faster, more erratic, more easily spooked. Think horse…but not just any horse.

Think wild mustang: untamed, fast, hyper-responsive to its environment, and deeply mistrustful of being reined in.

If you’ve got a mustang of your own, here are three things worth knowing — the kind of things that might just change the way you ride.

1. You are NOT the horse

Across spiritual traditions and philosophies throughout history — from Buddhism to modern-day mindfulness to ancient Stoic thought — one idea echoes time and time again:

You are not your thoughts; you are the one observing them.

That you — the one who watches — has been called many things:

The Soul. The Atman. The Observer. The Witness.

Different words, same liberating idea: you are something distinct from your worldly experience.

And by this logic, shared by mystics, ancient philosophers and modern psychologists alike, YOU don’t want to reach for your phone for the hundredth time or replay that conversation with your boss AGAIN.

YOU didn’t forget your keys or have your third meltdown of the week.

Your brain did — your brilliant, sensitive, high-strung, forgetful, busy and wildly imaginative brain.

Yours to ride through life on.
But not you.

For one of my coaching clients the other week, this shift hit so hard we ended the session early. They needed space to sit with the sheer relief of it.

Because sometimes, it doesn’t matter how many times someone tells you “You’re not broken.” When so much of life feels harder than it should, those words can feel hollow.

But when that internal separation clicks — when you feel the distinction between who you are and what your brain does — it lands differently.

A quiet sense of, “Ohhh… this isn’t me. This is just the vehicle I’ve been given to ride.”

So before we go any further, please take a minute to feel that.

Because while I am coming to love my own horse, between you and me, anytime I remember that she is not me and I am NOT her…

2. The goal isn’t to “break in” the horse

You didn’t choose this horse. But here you are. Like it or not, you’re in this together.

This wild inner horse — your body, your wiring, your beautifully complex brain — might be unpredictable, intense, even defiant at times. But it’s not your enemy. It’s your companion. The one who’s with you from your first breath to your last.

And the goal was never to conquer it.

Not to break it in. Not to bend it to your will.

But to learn how to ride in rhythm with its nature.

To rest when it’s tired. To soothe it when it’s scared.

Some days (many days), you’re going to get bucked off. And on those days, it’s not about forcing your way back into the saddle — it’s about walking beside your horse with tenderness, knowing you’re still a team, even when the trail gets rough.

3. Your horse will keep returning to familiar watering holes — even if they’re full of swamp water

This one had one of my clients and me laughing pretty hard, so I’ll leave you with this.

Last week, I had a client come into our session feeling frustrated — “Why is my brain always ruminating on the bad stuff when there’s so much good in my life right now?”

She didn’t want to spiral. It just kept happening. She’d find herself lost in another loop of frustration or negativity without even noticing how she got there.

Exasperated, she said, “I remember you saying that the ADHD brain is wired for intensity — that it’s drawn to stimulation. I know that’s why I ruminate, spiral, and fixate on worst-case scenarios. That awareness has helped... but I still don’t know what to do with it.”

So after sharing my version of the Rider and the Elephant metaphor, I introduced her to the idea of the watering hole:

These wild mustangs of ours get thirsty. And when they do, they tend to wander off to the same familiar watering holes.

What they’re thirsty for is dopamine. And over time, they’ve learned where they’re most likely to find it: not in calm, quiet joy, but in intensity, especially the kind that comes from rumination, self-blame, or worst-case-scenario spirals.

So you’re going about your day, trying to stay on track — and suddenly, there you are again. Your horse has wandered off the trail and is standing at that same old watering hole. The one full of swampy, sludgy thoughts that leave you feeling ashamed, anxious, and hopeless. You know the places: your ex’s Instagram page. Your coworker’s tone from last Tuesday. That one thing you said in high school that still haunts you at 2 AM.

They’re familiar, they’re intense, and they always deliver a hit.

Because here’s what usually happens when our brains feed us the thought: we bite.

We lean in. We replay the argument, spiral into the worst-case scenario, or launch into a full mental monologue about how unfair it all is. That’s the equivalent of pulling out a giant hose and giving your thirsty horse a full-body bath in swamp water.

And your horse loves it.

It's exhilarating. It’s stimulating. It delivers exactly what it came for. And because horses are creatures of habit, it’s going to come right back next time it’s thirsty.

But here’s the new move: don’t pull out the hose.

Once you’re there, once you realize your horse has taken you to its favourite murky watering hole — this is where your power kicks in. Instead, take a breath.

Loosen your grip and say, “Oh, Fancy (yes, I suggest you give your horse a name), we’re back here again, huh?”

Then you immediately offer Fancy another option.

Maybe it’s a different watering hole — a reroute toward a show that always makes you laugh, a playlist that lifts you, a quick step outside, or a phone call to a friend.

You might find yourself back at the swampy watering hole five seconds later. In fact, you likely will.

That’s okay. The magic already happened — because this time, Fancy didn’t get what she came for. No big reaction. No mental spiral. Just a gentle redirection. And the more that happens, the less she’ll associate that place – those thoughts – with the reward she’s used to.

And that right there? That’s some black-belt horse whispering.

So dear reader, my parting message to you is this: there are more of us out here than you think — riding our wild mustangs, doing our best to navigate the trail, nursing bruised tailbones from getting bucked off, waving at you across the swampy watering hole as we gently coax our own horse away from it.

You and Fancy? You’re in good company — and you’re doing just fine.

And finally, here’s some candid footage of me and my own horse at the watering hole last week.

We can’t win ’em all, right?