My brain is like Waffle House. It’s permanently lit with multiple globe lights, there’s clanking in the kitchen, the constant urge for food, and all the while someone is muttering, “Hey, is something burning?” And the answer is probably yes, because my synapses are constantly on fire managing a litany of open tabs 24 hours a day. Even in my dreams I try to multitask. Having this kind of brain is a blessing or a curse, depending on the activity I find myself engaged in. But, if it’s the right activity, ADHD becomes a superpower.

This is what thrift and antique shopping is for me. It’s an activity that meshes a mix of laser focus, spontaneous discovery, and adapting on the fly. It’s also something I just WANT to do (which is key for anyone who deals with neurodivergence). But all that to say, it feels like a very specific superpower in a thrift store. My brain can hop from one item to the next, identifying it, cataloging it, comparing it to things I may already have at home. Also, one of those tabs is always softly whispering, “This could be the thing that makes you a fortune on Antiques Roadshow.” But let’s be real, mostly I just love to collect for the sake of collecting.

A few months ago I was at my favorite thrift store in the outside “garden” section where things deemed too outside-y (i.e. dirty) are piled. The prices usually reflect the location, and as I picked through the stacks on a cold rainy day, I spied a treasure. In the mix of garden hoses, plastic pots, used lawn furniture and chipped cement bird baths, I spied a waterlogged cardboard box containing a pair of old lamps.

They were covered in filth, but I immediately knew they were special when I spotted their witch-hat metal tops. I pulled them out of the box and my first thought was that the old wiring would kill us all, and the second thought was how amazing they would look in the garden. And when I spied the $25 price tag I knew they were coming home with me.

I brought them home and took a picture to reverse image search them. That’s when I realized these little lamps would not be going out into my garden to rust.

They are Peter Marsh lamps, circa 1960/70. He was a noted lighting designer in England, and his fairy-tale-gothic lamps were handmade with mosaic-stained glass panels, iron, and tin/metal details. Luckily, I have a husband who loves a good project, and he took them apart, cleaned them and rewired them. Now I have a set of wonderful weird vintage #witchcore lamps. My daughter told me that I needed to use that hashtag because it’s my “aesthetic” and I was like, “Okay sure I’m old and I hope you’re not pranking me because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Anyway.

Will these lamps make me rich on Antiques Roadshow? Nah.

What’s my point?

It’s this.

ADHD really is a thrifting/antiquing superpower because you can hyperfocus like nobody’s biz. You can zone in and see things most people miss. It provides you with pattern recognition skills, where you may be able to see the beauty and potential when others see junk. It also fuels you with the impulse to “just get it and figure it out later” because folks with ADHD usually have excellent gut-instincts (if they don’t spend time trying to argue themselves out of their feelings). In both thrift stores and life, ADHD brains excel at noticing overlooked opportunities, connecting random pieces into something useful, and pivoting quickly when the original plan goes out the window.

And that’s where the magic is. The messy, instinct-driven moments are usually what give us the biggest wins. You don’t always have to look polished to be powerful. Sometimes you just have to trust yourself, dirt and all. Sometimes your best skills don’t look perfect and linear. They look messy, intuitive, and maybe a little dirt-covered like my lamps, but they still get you somewhere amazing.

In short, since I’ve learned to understand my brightly-lit Waffle House brain, I’ve come to appreciate it.

It takes good care of me.

And I bet yours does too.