ADHD, OCD and Soulmates
Playing “soulmate” nearly burned me out. This companion essay dives into the part I skipped in the main series: the exhaustion, heroic delusions, and financial tap‑dancing it took to keep a broken love story alive. From commuting fantasies to shopping as emotional CPR, I’m pulling back the curtain on what it really cost to be the hero in a relationship that was slowly draining me. If you’ve ever felt tired down to your bones from love, this one’s for you.
ADHD, OCD and Soulmates Part 5
Hope, for me, used to mean believing in a perfect person who would make all the pain make sense. These days, hope looks smaller and sturdier.
I don’t need a soulmate to validate that I’m worthy. I do, however, still want someone to share the good coffee, the stupid jokes, the quiet evenings, and the occasional existential crisis.
ADHD, OCD and Soulmates Part 4
For years my favorite story about myself was simple: I’m a great guy who just hasn’t met the right person.
It explained everything—bad breakups, messy marriages, why I was always exhausted from trying so hard. Then one day a doctor asked me a few questions and said, ‘Have you considered ADHD?’
Suddenly ‘great guy’ wasn’t the whole picture. That intense devotion? A lot of it was hyperfocus. The grand gestures and fast commitments? Impulsivity in a nice shirt. The panic when someone pulled away? Rejection sensitivity on full blast.
Getting that word didn’t excuse my choices—but it finally explained the script I kept repeating in every relationship.
Sometimes the label doesn’t limit you.
It just explains the chaos.
ADHD, OCD and Soulmates Part 3
I used to think my love language was grand gestures. Looking back, it was more like crisis management.
When things got tense, my first instinct was to go big: an expensive trip, a huge gift, a massive sacrifice I absolutely couldn’t afford. If I pulled it off, we got a week of peace and I got to feel like the hero.
For an ADHD brain high on limerence, that rush is addictive. You don’t just fix a problem—you save the relationship. You save her. You save your role as ‘the good man.’
The bill always came later: in money, in resentment, in the quiet realization that I was performing love instead of living it.
Being the hero feels powerful—until you realize you’ve never learned how to just be a partner.
ADHD, OCD and Soulmates Part 2
She looked me in the eyes and called me her soulmate.
I didn’t suddenly believe in The One.
I believed in her belief in me.
Within 18 months: married.
New role: provider, fixer, designated hero.
I treated ‘soulmate’ like a job title I had to earn every day.
ADHD hyperfocus on a relationship looks a lot like devotion.
From the outside: ‘What a committed guy.’
On the inside: ‘If I stop trying this hard, I’ll lose everything.’
Pettiness. Jealousy. Double standards.
My gut whispered, ‘Something’s off.’
The soulmate story shouted, ‘This is just a test.’
Guess which one I listened to?
Pull up a chair. Let’s unravel the soulmate story—and see what’s worth keeping.
ADHD, OCD and Soulmates part 1
I never bought into the soulmate myth—I trusted hard work, common sense, and not embarrassing myself. Then a woman called me her soulmate, and all those rules vanished.
This series is my deep dive into that moment and everything that unraveled after.
I’m the Cynical (Yes Still Hopeful) Romantic: late-diagnosed ADHD, a sprinkle of OCD, and a relationship history that makes more sense in hindsight. For years, I chased the role of “someone’s person”—even when my gut said otherwise.
Here, I revisit my first marriage and beyond, sharing what I wish I’d known: how ADHD hyperfocus distorts love, how the hero complex turns romance into overwork, and why certainty makes the soulmate myth so seductive.
This isn’t a lecture—it’s memoir with side notes, a chance to learn from my mistakes so you don’t touch the stove yourself. If you’ve ever ignored a red flag for a good story, you’re in the right place.
Pull up a chair. Let’s unravel the soulmate story—and see what’s worth keeping.