The Squirrel Has My Keys: Normalizing Executive Function in ADHD

When I created my site, I knew I also wanted to create a blog to share information and more about my journey as a late-diagnosed, neurodivergent person.

Why “The Squirrel Has My Keys”?

Coming up with names for blogs, groups, websites, and businesses has kind of been a fun adventure for me over the years. I appreciate word play and finding some levity in things. I also lose things a lot! I have found my keys in the fridge, my phone in the pantry, and have stood in a room with zero memory of why I walked in. If you can relate to this, welcome. You’re not alone. And you just might be my kind of person.

When I chose the name The Squirrel Has My Keys, it wasn’t just about being quirky or cute (though I do love a little whimsy). It was about naming something real: the beautifully unpredictable, nonlinear, spark-chasing, sometimes-chaotic way many neurodivergent brains move through the world, including mine.

The Squirrel Is Real

“The squirrel has my keys” is how I explain those moments when I’ve lost track of something for the fifth time, or followed a chain of thoughts so quickly that I forgot where I started. It’s a phrase that brings levity to the experience without shame. It’s a wink to the parts of ourselves that may have been misunderstood, labeled as “too much,” “careless,” or “distracted,” when really, we are just wired differently.

For folks with ADHD (diagnosed or self-identified), this might sound familiar:

• Getting excited by a new idea mid-task and forgetting the original task altogether

• Feeling everything at once

• Creativity that comes in bursts and spirals

• Losing track of time, even when you were trying really hard not to

• Having a brain that’s full of tabs open and no idea which one the music is coming from

  
  

These experiences aren’t signs that something is wrong. They’re part of how many of us are built. And once we understand and embrace that, we can start working with our brains instead of constantly feeling like we’re failing some invisible test.

A Gentle Reframe

So much of the messaging around ADHD is rooted in deficit. But I don’t see a deficit. I see brilliance, sensitivity, inventiveness, and deep feeling. I see resilience. I see people who’ve been told to sit still when their bodies needed to move, who were asked to “just focus” when their attention was already in ten places trying to solve a problem no one else noticed yet.

Calling it The Squirrel Has My Keys is my way of softening that story. Of reminding myself and others that forgetfulness doesn’t make us broken. That nonlinear thinking isn’t a flaw. That our attention isn’t defective, it’s selective, and often deeply intuitive.

You’re Not Lazy. You’re Human.

Here’s the truth: living in a world not built for neurodivergent wiring can be exhausting. But the traits that may trip us up are also the ones that make us vibrant, funny, deeply empathetic, and wildly creative. Yes, we might need systems, support, or spaciousness but not because we’re lacking. Because we’re worthy of ease.

Whether your squirrel ran off with your keys, your thoughts, or your to-do list, I hope this space feels like a soft landing. A place where you don’t have to apologize for how your brain works. Where we can laugh, unmask, and find ways to thrive together.

With warmth (and probably still looking for my keys),

Dre