An Ode to Music — My Lifelong ADHD Companion

“Nothing activates the brain so extensively as music,” said famed neurologist and musicphile Oliver Sacks, M.D. As an avid music fan with ADHD, I have lived this truth from a young age.

I grew up in a music-obsessed family. I was named after Roberto Carlos, the renowned Brazilian singer. (Another option was “Fernando,” after the ABBA song.) My father was a serious vinyl collector, and rarely was our home silent. My parents instilled in my siblings and me an appreciation for all music, teaching us never to dismiss any artist or song but rather to express, “This music doesn’t speak to me now.”

I’ll never forget the first time I heard “We Got the Beat” by the Go-Go’s. The opening drum line, fast and strong, flipped a switch in my 10-year-old brain. I had never been instantly hooked like that by anything. Their album, Beauty and the Beat, was the first I ever bought, and it helped carve out my own musical identity. (All these decades later, the magic of this album endures.) From The Cure’s moody sounds and Sinéad O’Connor’s raw vocals to Tito Puente’s vibrant rhythms and Linda Ronstadt’s soulful voice, I listened to it all, and I still love discovering new music.

Fifth-grade me may have been a little dramatic when I wrote this in a school essay: “Music is my religion, my drug, my validation, and my salvation.” Theatrical, but not wrong. As a kid with undiagnosed ADHD, I innately understood that music was more than enjoyable; it was necessary. I gravitated toward it to manage symptoms I later recognized as ADHD.

I turned facts into songs for better recall. While studying, I drummed on random surfaces, and by test day, I “felt” the rhythm again to recall what I learned. My earliest attempts at writing were supercharged by music. I distinctly remember staring at a blank page, frozen, unable to start my assignment. Something compelled me to play Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust” on my tape recorder. The iconic opening bassline unblocked my brain and lifted me out of paralysis. I am forever grateful to my dad, who could have shut off the music, but believed me when I said it was helping. Sure enough, the essay poured out in minutes. Today, I always have music — sometimes soft, but often loud and cacophonous — playing when I need to focus. In fact, I wrote my dissertation to bands like Green Day and Ministry.

Looking back, I admire how my parents used music creatively to support me. To keep me from lingering too long in the shower, my mom put a radio in the bathroom and said, “If you listen to more than four songs, then you’re in the shower too long.” My dad, who liked to listen to music in layers, replayed songs so I could focus on different instruments each time. He didn’t know that this way of appreciating music was a form of mindfulness – just what my ADHD brain needed.

Music has a special place in my life. I firmly believe in its power to connect, heal, and reveal the best in us. I’m passionate about sharing this truth, including with my patients. Whether creating playlists to validate feelings or dancing away social anxiety, I help others lean into music to improve their lives.

My ask: be an open-minded listener. Try a genre you’ve never explored or revisit a song you once dismissed — it might speak differently to you today. Here’s to discovering the next song that lights up your brain.

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