If you've ever looked after little kids, you know you just can't walk up to the swings and tell them it's time to go home. Not if you want to leave the playground without a scene. You give a warning, five more minutes, and then two.Kids need a little time to let go of one thing before they can move on to the next. A lot of grown-ups need that too, but nobody gives you a five-minute warning at bedtime. You're simply expected to go from a full busy day to fast asleep the moment your head touches the pillow.And if that's never quite worked for you, and especially if you have ADHD, this episode was made for you. One of the hardest things for an ADHD brain is moving from one state to another, getting started on something, stopping something, going from busy to calm. And sleep is the biggest change of state in the whole day.And sometimes a dark, quiet room can make things harder instead of easier. With nothing to hold its attention, your brain goes looking for something. So tonight, consider this your five-minute warning.We're not going to ask your brain to stop. We're going to give it something to keep it occupied. Something that moves at about the pace your mind is moving now.And then, little by little, it will slow. And your brain will slow along with it, one step at a time. Your attention is free to wander as much as it likes tonight.And if you drift away for a while and come back, you won't have missed anything. There's no story to follow and no place to lose. Just come back to wherever you find yourself.But before we begin, our usual disclaimer. This episode uses light hypnotherapy and relaxation techniques. So it's important to be somewhere safe when listening.Preferably, that's your comfortable bed and not anywhere. You need to stay alert. And I would love to hear from you.I'd love to hear your ideas for episodes or what keeps you awake, what helps. I usually reply right away, but I've been away for the last few weeks. So if you left a comment and you didn't hear back, I'm sorry. I did take a little tablet with me, thinking I could keep up. But it turns out, neither of us was really up to the job. But I'm home now.And if you reach out, I will get right back to you. Depending on the app you're listening on, you might be able to leave a comment. There's also an email address in the show notes.Or you can find me on social media. And while you're there on social media, I posted a picture I took on my travels. It's where the idea for tonight's episode came from.So drop by if you're curious. But now, it's time to get you settled. This day is done.Maybe it wasn't a perfect day, but you got through it. And you did your best with what you had. If you do have an ADHD brain, you probably worked harder than anyone noticed just to keep up.People don't always give you credit for everything you do. Maybe you don't always give yourself credit either. But you did your best today.And now, you're here in the dark, with a soft pillow under your head, and your blankets pulled up around you. I hope it's quiet where you are. Or at least as quiet as you can make it.Before we ask your body to be still, let's give it one last chance to move. An ADHD body doesn't always like being told to stop either. So go ahead and stretch. Put your legs out long and reach your heels away from you. Point your toes and then pull them back towards your shins. If your legs have been restless tonight, let them have that good long stretch now.And then let them relax. Roll your shoulders up toward your ears and then let them drop. Maybe once more.Then let them drop again. Open and close your hands. Spread your fingers wide and then curl them in.Give your hands a little shake if you want. Turn your head a little on the pillow until it feels just right. Take whatever time you need.There's no rush tonight. Feel your legs getting a little heavier. Your shoulders dropping a little more.And your hands loose and quiet. If you're very still, you might be able to feel your heart beating. Maybe in your chest.Maybe in your wrist or your neck. It's already starting to slow. And maybe you can notice your breathing slowing down too.Let's take a few deep breaths together. And each time let the breath out take a little longer than the breath in. That long out breath tells your body to slow your heart just a bit.So breathe in now and then let it out slowly. Good job. Let's do that again. Breathe in and feel the air moving all the way down into your belly. And then a long slow breath out. Good.One last time. Breathe in as deep as feels good and then let it all go. You should be feeling comfortable and relaxed and ready.In a few moments we'll start the hypnotherapy part of the night. And hypnosis isn't anything mysterious. It's actually a state you slip in and out of all the time.Like when you're so caught up in a show that you don't notice anything else. That's all it is. A relaxed and focused place where your mind is open to new ideas.And all you need to do is listen. And if your mind wanders off that's okay. My voice will still be here when you come back.Just pick up again wherever I am. So if you're ready, let's begin. Picture the room that you're lying in right now.You don't need to open your eyes. You know it by heart. There's your bed and you're in it.The mattress is holding you up and the blankets are pulled around you. Beside you there's probably a nightstand and your phone is probably on it. Face down.Maybe there's a glass of water there. Half full. And a lamp switched off now. It's shade. A pale shape in the dark. Maybe across the room there's a window and the curtain or blinds don't always quite meet.And perhaps there's a thin stripe of light from outside that falls across the floor. Maybe it's a street light. Maybe it's the moon.Either way it's just enough to see by once your eyes get used to the dark. You can make out the shape of things. The dresser against the wall with a few things scattered on top.Your keys maybe. A hairbrush. Some coins.There's the closet door. A darker rectangle. And maybe there's a chair in the corner with a few clothes piled on it.Most of us have one of those. The corners of the room are the darkest part where the shadows gather and fade up into the ceiling. It's quiet.Or as quiet as it gets in your home. Maybe there's the hum of a fridge somewhere or a car going by outside. It's sound rising and then fading away. And your pillow is cool where you turn your cheek against it. This is a perfectly good place to fall asleep. The bed is comfortable.The room is dark enough but your mind isn't having it, is it? Still going. Moving from yesterday to tomorrow. From the thing that happened to the thing that might happen.From something you need to remember to something you'd forgotten all about until right now. If you could picture your mind as something else tonight. Something alive. What would it be? Something quick. Something that darts. Something that flies.Something that quite can't resist a shiny thing. Let's say it's a bird. A little chickadee.You've probably seen one. A tiny round bird. Small enough to sit in the palm of your hand.Bright white cheeks. Soft gray wings and sides the color of warm toast. It lands on your nightstand.You hear the tiny tick of its feet on the wood. It hops once. Twice.And then stops beside your phone. It tilts its head and looks at the phone with one eye. Then it tilts its head the other way and looks again. It hops to the edge of the water glass and peers in. And then in a whir of wings so small and fast you can barely see them. It's gone.It's up on the curtain rod now. Gripping it with its little feet. Looking out at the stripe of light.What's out there? What's going on? Then it's on top of the closet door. And then it's on the dresser. Picking its way around your brush.Your keys catch its eye. It gives them a tap with its beak and they make a tiny metal clink. In the dark.Chickadee. That's a sound it makes. Soft.And quick. As if it's talking to itself. And off it goes again. To the chair. To the window. Back to the nightstand.It never stays anywhere for long. There's always something else to look at. And that's your mind tonight.Curious. And it's clever. And it's full of energy.It just isn't ready to land. Nothing in this room has given it a reason to stay. So let's give it one.A tiny creek beside your bed. Something green is pushing up. Grass.Thin bright blades of it. Slipping up through the cracks and unfolding into the room. If there's carpet beside your bed, it's coming up through that instead.And the carpet is turning soft and springy under it. The chickadee notices right away. Down.It drops. Onto the floor. And hops along the new grass.Tilting its head at each blade. One of the tall stems has a seed head at the top. And the bird tucks at it.Until a seed comes loose. And then it's off again. And now there's ivy running along the baseboards and climbing up the walls.Glossy green leaves. Each one the shape of a little heart. Unfolding one after another as the vines reach up toward the ceiling.The chickadee follows the ivy up the wall. Hopping from one leaf to leaf. And then darts across to the window.Something is growing there too. A sunflower. Pushing up beside the window frame.Taller and taller. Until its big round face is level with the curtain rod. Its petals are deep warm yellow.And its center is packed with seeds. And if there's one thing a chickadee loves, it's a sunflower seed. The bird lands on the edge of the flower. Tucks out a single seed and carries it to the windowsill. It holds the seed between its tiny feet. And taps it with its beak until the shell cracks.On the dresser. Moss is spreading. Deep green and soft.Creeping around your brush and your keys. Until the whole top of the dresser is covered in it. If you put your hand there, the moss would feel cool and springy and soft. Like a velvet cushion. The chickadee hops over and stands in it for a moment. Then it pulls up a little beak full of moss and carries it away.Towards your bed. Behind your head. The ivy has reached your headboard.It's winding around and through it. Weaving the stems together. And right there.Near your pillow. The leaves are curling into a little hollow. A soft round sheltered space.Just big enough for a very small bird. The chickadee tucks the moss inside it. And then it flies back to the dresser for a little more.Along the windowsill. Blackberry brambles are arching over the edge. Their long canes covered in berries.Glossy. And black. And so ripe they're almost purple. Imagine reaching out and picking one. It comes away easily in your fingers, still warm from the day. It's sweet and a little bit tart, and it leaves a faint purple stain on your fingertips. The chickadee lands among the brambles too, and stays there for a while, looking around. In the corner, there's a laundry basket full of warm towels, and curled up in the middle of them are three baby rabbits, their ears folded flat along their backs. The chickadee turns its head to look at them, but it doesn't fly over.It's quieter now. It's beginning to get tired. Over by the window, a rose is climbing the frame, and one fat bud near the top is starting to open. The outer petals loosen first, then the next layer, and the next. It's an heirloom rose, the kind people have grown for its perfume for hundreds of years. Its petals are a soft apricot color, deeper in the center, packed in loose ruffled layers, and the fragrance is drifting across the room now, rich and sweet, and the chickadee flies once more.A short little flight from the brambles to the post at the foot of your bed. It sits there near the rose. It fluffs its feathers, just a little, and then settles them back down.Chickadee, softer now, almost a whisper. All is well. Outside, the last of the light is fading.The sky turns from gold to blue, and then a deeper blue, and the room is slowly filling with dark. The sunflower by the window, bows its heavy head. The colors of the poppies and the roses soften and fade into shadow. The chickadee watches the window grow dark. The room is getting quieter too. The rustle of growing things has stopped.Everything's finished stretching and reaching, and has settled where it is. Whatever sounds there were in your room have faded as well. Now the quiet is soft and deep and complete, and the chickadee leaves the bedpost.One last short flight, slow this time, over your blankets to the little hollow in the ivy beside your head. It hops inside, turns around once, twice, and it nestles down into the moss. It is the safest place in this room.The moss is so soft and dry underneath. The ivy curls around the sides and arches overhead, the leaves overlapping like a little roof, and the scent of the rose drips in. Sweet and close, nothing can reach it here.Everything in this room grew to keep it safe. A chickadee's heart beats so fast you couldn't count it, but at night it slows. On cold nights, a chickadee fluffs up its feathers and lets the whole body slow down and cool, so it can save its strength for morning.And that's what's happening now. You can almost feel it, a tiny quick heartbeat slowing. It's had a full day.It's had sunflower seeds and blackberries. It's looked at everything there was to look at, checked every corner and every shiny thing. There's nothing left that needs checking.Everything is where it should be. Its eye blinks once and again, more slowly, and then it stays closed. The chickadee turns its head and tucks its beak down deep into the soft feathers on its back, and it's still all is well.It knows that now, and so do you, because you're feeling it too. The dark has gathered around you, soft and deep. The quiet has settled over your room.Your bed is holding you, the way the moss holds the little bird, safe and dry and warm. Your blankets are curled around you. Your heart is slowing too, each beat a little further from the last.And your breathing is long and slow. Your eyelids are heavy and getting heavier. And you can keep this little bird with you on any night when your mind is still busy, still darting from one thing to the next. You can picture it, a small round shape with its little black cap and bright eyes, flitting from the nightstand to the window. You don't have to chase it. You don't have to tell it to stop.You can just give it a reason to stay. Let the room grow soft and green around it. Let the light fade and the quiet gather.Give it a little time, the way you give a kid a five-minute warning at the park. And it will slow down. Its flights will get shorter.You will find the soft hollow beside your pillow and settle into it. Its tiny heart will slow. Its eyes will close. And when it does, you can follow it all the way down into sleep all is well.