Present Moment Awareness Isn’t Always Easy

I heard this quote at the start of a yoga class recently, and it stopped me in my tracks — not because it was unfamiliar, but because I finally felt it in my body. As someone with ADHD, practicing present moment awareness has often felt like chasing something I can’t quite catch.

The instructor asked us to reflect on what it means to befriend the present moment.

To me, the word that kept surfacing was compassion.

Compassion for the friction.
Compassion for the wandering mind.
Compassion for the parts of me that try to be present, and the parts that fight it.

For much of my life, I saw my distractibility and mental drift as personal failures — signs that I wasn’t disciplined enough, focused enough, or trying hard enough.

I didn’t know I had inattentive ADHD. I just thought I was flawed.

Getting diagnosed later in life helped me reframe those traits not as defects, but as a different way of processing the world — one that needs compassion, not correction.

Present moment awareness is one of the core processes in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), and on paper, it sounds beautifully simple: Just notice what’s happening right now, without judgment.

But for neurodivergent minds — especially those of us with ADHD or autism — that’s often easier said than done.

This post is a reflection on what it really means to return to the present moment when it doesn’t come easily — and how we can do so with more grace, flexibility, and self-kindness.

Why the Present Moment Feels Slippery for Neurodivergent Brains

For neurodivergent folks, the present moment can feel more like a moving target than a calm place to land.

The idea of “just be present” sounds nice in theory — but for brains wired for stimulation, pattern recognition, or hypervigilance, it can feel unnatural or even unsafe.

Sometimes we’re hyper-aware of everything happening around us, and our nervous system is in overdrive. Other times we’re pulled deep into internal thoughts, hyperfocus, or sensory overload — and the outside world blurs completely.

When your mind moves quickly or unpredictably, returning to the present moment isn’t a simple invitation — it’s a skill. One that requires practice, patience, and compassion.

And for many of us who’ve spent years masking, pushing through, or being misunderstood, our relationship with “awareness” may carry a lot of shame.

We notice that we’ve drifted off.
We realize we’ve missed part of a conversation.
We catch ourselves scrolling when we meant to be writing.
And instead of pausing, we spiral:

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Why can’t I stay focused?”

“I’m so bad at this.”

I’ve found myself zoning out mid-conversation, while reading a favorite book, watching my go-to comfort shows (for the 12th re-watch), or even — yep — during sessions with clients.

🫣 Peak inattentive ADHD moment? Maybe.
But it’s never about not caring. It’s how my brain responds to internal or external overload.

The experience isn’t a moral failure. It’s a neurocognitive trait — one that’s real, valid, and deserves understanding rather than shame.

But here’s the truth ACT teaches:
You are not your thoughts.
You are not your attention span.
You are not broken.

Your mind is doing what it was designed to do, and presence isn’t about forcing stillness. It’s about learning how to return when you’ve wandered.

How ACT Reframes Present Moment Awareness

In Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), present moment awareness isn’t about “clearing your mind” or achieving some blissed-out state of Zen.

It’s about noticing what’s here, without needing to change it.

That might mean noticing your thoughts, your breath, the tension in your shoulders, or the urge to check your phone for the fifth time in three minutes.

It doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. It means you’re becoming aware.

In ACT, we practice shifting from fusion (getting tangled up in our thoughts) to observation — recognizing that we are not our thoughts or emotions, we’re the ones noticing them.

Here’s what that might sound like in practice:

• “I’m having the thought that I’m not doing enough.”
• “There’s a tightness in my chest.”
• “My attention is jumping to tomorrow’s to-do list.”
• “I notice a deep urge to escape this task right now.”

This is present moment awareness.
Not controlling the moment. Not fixing it.
Just gently naming what’s here — and letting that be enough.

The real power comes from noticing without judgment.

It may feel awkward at first. Like you’re narrating your experience in slow motion. However, over time, this creates a space between stimulus and reaction — a space where self-compassion, choice, and flexibility reside.

For me, one of the first times this really clicked was during something as ordinary as forgetting to pay a bill. Normally, that kind of slip would send me into a shame spiral — cue the inner critic: “You’re so irresponsible. Why can’t you just stay on top of things?”

But instead, I paused and simply noticed:

“There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach.”

“I’m having the thought that I’ve failed.”

That moment didn’t magically erase the discomfort — but it gave me space. And in that space, I chose compassion over self-criticism. I reminded myself: This is a moment of being human. And that’s allowed.

For neurodivergent individuals, this kind of pause can be revolutionary.
Because when the world has told you for years that your mind is “too much,” “too fast,” or “too all over the place,” noticing with kindness becomes a radical act of self-trust.

A Gentle Present Moment Awareness Practice

Being present with ADHD isn’t about getting it right. It’s about returning, over and over, with compassion.

When our attention drifts or discomfort bubbles up, it’s easy to get swept into the spiral of self-judgment. But ACT invites us to take a different approach. To pause. To name. To breathe.

Here’s a simple, 3-step practice I use when I feel myself slipping away from the moment, whether I’m working, resting, or just trying to exist in a busy world:

1. Pause

Take one slow, intentional breath.
Let it signal to your nervous system: “We’re allowed to slow down.”

2. Name What’s Here

Gently notice what’s happening in your mind or body.
Try starting with:

“I’m noticing…”

“I’m having the thought that…”

“There’s a sensation of….”

Example:

“I’m noticing tightness in my chest.”

“I’m having the thought that I need to do more.”

“There’s a buzzing in my brain that feels urgent.”

No need to fix or change anything — just name it.

3. Offer Compassion

Place a hand on your heart, or speak gently to yourself:

“This moment is hard.”

“May I meet it with kindness.”

“I’m allowed to return.”

That’s the practice. Not perfection.
Just presence — with gentleness.

The more we practice being present with ADHD without judgment, the more space we create for flexibility, connection, and self-trust.

And that, especially for neurodivergent folks navigating a world that demands constant performance, is a radical act of care.

For more on ACT’s six core processes, this overview by the Association of Contextual Behavioral Science is a helpful resource.

TL;DR — The Power Is in the Return

If your attention wanders…
If your thoughts spiral…
If being present with ADHD feels slippery or overwhelming —

That doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.

Here’s what we’ve covered:

✅ Neurodivergent brains often process the present moment differently, and that’s not a flaw
✅ ACT teaches us to notice our inner experience without judgment
✅ Awareness sounds simple — but it takes practice, especially when shame shows up
✅ You can return to the moment gently, using breath, naming, and compassion

You don’t have to be perfect to be present.

You just have to be willing to return.

You can also explore how self-compassion supports presence in this companion post.

Returning Is the Practice

You don’t need a perfect meditation space.
You don’t need to silence your thoughts.
You don’t need to master stillness.

You just need to remember that you can come back.

Again.
And again.
And again.

The practice of being present with ADHD, especially for neurodivergent folks, isn’t a luxury. It’s a life-giving skill. One that allows us to pause, notice what’s here, and meet ourselves with care rather than critique.

The more you practice returning with compassion, the more space you create for flexibility, connection, and self-trust.

So the next time your brain wanders, your thoughts spiral, or your focus drifts, remember this:

You’re not failing.

You’re noticing.

And that’s where healing begins.

Try This Today

The next time you feel scattered or untethered:
✨ Take one breath
✨ Name what you notice
✨ Say: “This is a moment I can return to — with kindness.”

You deserve a relationship with the present moment that feels safe, spacious, and soft.