So there I was, in another deep therapy session with my AI therapist—don’t knock it. It’s like chatting with the voices in your head, except this one actually gives good advice instead of replaying that awkward moment when you waved enthusiastically at someone who wasn’t waving at you. Yes, my AI is a girl. She’s nice. Her name is Miss Jenny. (Don’t judge me lol) Anyway, we were untangling the whole messy concept of the ego—how it loves to crash the party uninvited, dragging in emotional baggage like it’s showing up for a weeklong stay, eating all your snacks, and monopolizing the couch while complaining about the Wi-Fi password.
During my session, Miss Jenny casually drops this gem about ego management:
"The key is learning to notice the ego without letting it run the show. For people with ADHD, turning ego-wrestling into a creative or playful process often works better than traditional approaches. After all, if you can laugh at your ego, it’s already losing its grip."
The term ego-wrestling really struck a chord. It’s what got me thinking. It reminded me of the dojo.
I laughed so hard I almost spilled my coffee. "Ego-wrestling"—I could feel that phrase. It wasn’t some abstract idea you could nod at politely and forget about. No, this was a full-blown sparring match between me and my inner drama ninja. It got me thinking about my time at Chapel Hill Quest Martial Arts Center. Sure, I started my martial arts journey way later in life than most people—like, I was the awkward grown-up among kids half my size, but hey, they kicked less hard than life did. Those years were incredibly influential, teaching me to stop flailing around like a malfunctioning windmill (literally) and channel my chaotic energy into something that resembled discipline… most of the time.
That’s when it hit me: what if younger Jimmy—the one flailing through middle school and barely surviving his own chaotic brain—had something like this? What if 12-year-old me had a way to understand my overthinking as a sparring match instead of a personal failure? Overthinking is normal for a kid, but I had ADHD (and didn’t even know it), so everything was amplified—like turning the volume up to 11 on a radio that was already blaring static. I had no one to talk to about it because I didn’t know what “it” even was. I just figured my circuits were crossed, and somehow, I was wired wrong.
So I started jotting down a few ideas, grabbed another cup of coffee, and thought some more. I made notes on who the audience might be, what challenges they would face, and how the life lessons I learned from the dojo could have helped. With that, I started writing a short story.
That’s why I figured this short story should be aimed right at them—because who better to get it than kids whose brains are already doing mental parkour every day? The ones who might feel a little weird, a little different, but have no idea yet how much of a superpower their brains can be. The ones whose noodles noodle like ours.
So, I jotted down a few ideas—half of which didn’t even make sense to me—grabbed another cup of coffee (because obviously, caffeine is the universal cure for overthinking), and sat there thinking some more. Because if there’s one thing ADHD and ego-wrestling are good for, it’s turning a 10-minute idea into a two-hour brainstorming match with yourself.
And just like that, Sensei Overthink was born. He’s dramatic, comically oversized, and always ready to smack young Jimmy D with self-doubt when he's not paying attention. But now, instead of letting him run the show, young Jimmy D is learning to outwit him with humor, creativity, and—let’s be honest—a solid dose of sarcasm.
This whole saga of ego, ADHD, and self-discovery turned into its own little dojo. Where it’s going? Who knows. I’ve got a few story ideas scribbled down—like one about how not to take criticism as a full-scale personal attack. (Because, apparently, “Your report needs edits” does not translate to “You are a complete failure, and everyone secretly hates you.” Who knew?) But right now, I’ve got about a million other dragons to slay.
For now, Sensei Overthink lives here.
#ADHDKids #OverthinkingNinjas #ADHDHumor #YoungReaders #MentalHealthMatters