FLOW STATE

Where I Find Flow

For a long time, I assumed that if I really enjoyed doing something, I should want to do it with other people.

Travelling with friends. Going for walks together. Exploring new places as a family. After all, isn't that what we're supposed to enjoy?

But over the past few years, particularly since understanding my own neurodivergence, I've realised something quite illuminating.

I experience my deepest sense of flow when I'm alone.

Not because I don't enjoy other people's company; I do. I love spending time with my family and the people I care about. But when I'm on my own, something shifts.

Everything becomes quieter.

I notice how I feel.

I know what I want to do next.

I don't second-guess myself.

Things seem to connect effortlessly.

For me, this often happens when I'm travelling somewhere new, wandering around an unfamiliar town, sitting by the sea, or setting off on a little adventure. It doesn't have to be anything extraordinary. It's more about the feeling than the place.

When I'm alone, I become completely immersed in the experience. I'm not thinking about what someone else wants to do, whether they're enjoying themselves, or worrying what others are thinking of me. I also seem to let go of the need to control everything that happens; I become more open, receptive and unexpected changes don’t bother me; I flow with them.

I can simply be.

As a neurodivergent woman, I've come to realise how much mental energy I naturally spend noticing and responding to other people. Even in relationships where I feel safe, part of my attention is often tuned into those around me.

When I'm alone, there are no competing demands.

I can hear myself.

I notice what excites me, what makes me pause, what sparks my curiosity. I become much more aware of my own thoughts, emotions and intuition. Decisions feel simpler because I'm listening to myself rather than filtering everything through everyone else's needs.

Interestingly, I don't experience this same feeling when I'm deeply absorbed in work.

I can spend hours writing or researching something that fascinates me. That's immersive too, but for me it feels different. I'd describe it more as hyperfocus. It's productive and energising, but it can also make it difficult to stop or notice my own needs.

Flow state feels softer.

It's spacious.

There's an ease to it.

I leave those moments feeling calmer, more connected and more myself.

As a parent, those opportunities are much rarer than they used to be. I have felt guilty about wanting time on my own. I wondered if it meant I was being selfish or antisocial.

Now I see it differently.

I've realised that solitude isn't something I need to earn. It's something that nourishes me.

Solitude gives me space to process thoughts I haven't had time to think about, emotions I haven't had a chance to feel, and experiences that are still waiting to be understood.

When I return home, I'm calmer, more present and more able to be the person I want to be with the people I love.

Rather than taking me away from my family, those moments of flow help me come back to them.

I'm curious...

What does flow look like for you?

Perhaps it's running, painting, gardening or swimming. Maybe it's cooking, reading, hiking or losing yourself in music. Perhaps, like me, it happens when you're travelling alone.

There isn't a right or wrong answer.

The invitation is simply to notice.

When do you feel most like yourself?

When do things feel effortless?

When does your mind become quieter?

What helps you reconnect with the person underneath all the roles, responsibilities and expectations?

We spend so much of life trying to fit around everyone else.

Sometimes the most important thing we can do is create space to hear ourselves again.