How to Design an ADHD- and PTSD-Friendly Home

designing a home that supports focus, safety, and emotional regulation — with tips tailored for ADHD and PTSD brains.


TL;DR Summary

  • Right now, my husband and I are moving — but these tips apply whether you’re in a dorm, a rental, or just trying to make your space feel more like you.
  • ADHD brains need stimulation; PTSD brains need control. Your environment affects how safe, focused, or overwhelmed you feel.
  • Visual anchors, small routines, and sensory cues (like scent, texture, and lighting) can help regulate your nervous system.
  • Even one corner, one object, or one cozy ritual can ground you when everything else feels chaotic or temporary.
  • Your space doesn’t have to be perfect — it just needs to support the way your brain works.

We’re moving.
So I’m living in a house that doesn’t really feel like mine right now.

Half of our books are boxed. The textures are gone. The house is bare.
And while that might sound like a dream to someone who thrives on minimalism, for my ADHD + PTSD brain? It’s a sensory dead zone.

I’m realizing all over again just how much our environment influences our nervous system — especially if you have ADHD, PTSD, or both.

But let’s be clear: This post isn’t about moving. It’s about how your environment affects you — and how small, simple shifts can help you feel grounded, calm, and more like yourself.

And yes, I’ll be writing about how I bring this these tips to life again in my next home — stay tuned.

How ADHD & PTSD Brains React to Their Surroundings

Going through this process is reminding me that if I feel off when my space is off, there’s a reason. I’m not “crazy” or “losing it,” my mind is just responding to physical surroundings. Here’s why a space isn’t just a space for some neurodivergent minds:

  • ADHD brains crave stimulation. This is because dopamine dysregulation makes it harder to sustain focus without novelty or visual input. So, a bland space isn’t always calming — it can be boring to the point of actual tears.
  • PTSD brains demand control because they’re constantly scanning for potential threats — even in safe spaces. That’s not paranoia; it’s a survival mechanism rooted in trauma response.

In my case, this combo leads to a tendency to either shut down or obsessively over-manage. (Fun!) Since we’re motivated to sell this house/cash out our investment and move into our new home, I’m in a blend of hyperfocus, rejection sensitivity, and constant nervous system alertness.

It’s rough.

But it’s also a chance to get creative and lean into novelty — something my ADHD brain thrives on, and a way to gently stretch my PTSD brain’s window of tolerance.

Small Environmental Tweaks That Support ADHD + PTSD Brains

Even though I can’t fully decorate right now, I’ve carved out ways to keep the space mine.

These aren’t about making your home “pretty” — they’re about making your brain feel less like it’s under siege:

For ADHD Brains:

  • Keep some visual stimulation — even staged. Use pillows, a bold art frame, or a plant to anchor you.
  • Create tiny reward spots: A soft chair with your favorite blanket, a candle that smells like your favorite memory, or a bright mug on the counter = micro-dopamine hits.

For PTSD Brains:

  • Prioritize predictability. If things must be minimal, decide what you get to leave out and where you put the rest of your staged items. (And yes, trust your real estate agent when they suggest decluttering — they’re invested in selling your home too, since their commission depends on it.)
  • Choose your anchor spots. Whether it’s a fuzzy bath mat, your favorite book on a shelf, or a tea station, having one thing that’s just for you = safety.
  • Avoid intense sensory stimuli. Your nervous system can register certain smells, lights, sounds, etc. as potential danger. Sometimes you forget your triggers, so to avoid a flashback or unwanted dissociation, try to keep your environment calm, consistent, and free of anything that might overwhelm your senses without warning.

Bottom line: Don’t wait to feel “settled” to make your space feel like home. Even one room, shelf, or ritual that feels like you is enough to ground you during chaos or any transitional period.

Here’s what’s been effective for me:

My Garden = My Therapy

I made sure the garden stayed bright, colorful, and alive — full of different plants and textures, even in a small space.
Yes, it’s great for curb appeal.
But more than that?
It’s for me.

Since we knew we were moving, I didn’t go all out on the herb & veggie garden like I did last year but we still filled our raised garden beds with something and we got to maintain all the beautiful colors in our front garden, even while staging.

Tending to something. Watching it grow. Giving my brain something beautiful and dynamic to look at when everything inside feels like beige purgatory — that’s what keeps me connected.

Indoor Greenery (Even the Fake Kind)

My cats eat real plants, so we keep fake ones indoors.

Pro tip: There are SO MANY plants that are toxic to cats and dogs (here’s a list of toxic plants from the ASPCA to keep your babies safe).

But even those little touches — leaves, vines, pops of green — make our space feel warmer, more alive, more us. And bonus: We kept all faux plants in the house during staging, except those in the living room.

Books & Ambience

I added colorful pillows and cozy throw blankets to our otherwise neutral couch. It’s such a small thing, but every time I sit down, it feels like a small cue of safety. A reminder that I live here — not just the version of me trying to sell this space.

Normally, our home is packed full of books, colorful little things on shelves, and lots of ambient light.


Let’s Get Real: Where Do You Actually Feel Like You?

Where do you feel the most safe? Where can you be yourself completely — messy, brilliant, creative, quiet, chaotic, all of it? Where do you indulge your hobbies, spread out your crafts, blast your music, or read for hours with no one watching?

Home.

Not the house. Home.
The space you’ve claimed for yourself. That’s home.

Whether it’s a rental apartment, a dorm room, or a corner on the floor next to your cat — that space matters. That space is shaped by you.

Let’s do a quick check-in to discover how you feel about your home! Ready?

  • What objects in your space make you feel most at ease?
  • Which corners of your home stress you out — and why?
  • If your environment was a mirror of your nervous system today, what would it reflect?

Why asking yourself these questions matters:
People with ADHD experience heightened sensitivity to environmental cues — light, color, clutter — which can either help regulate or dysregulate focus and energy.
Meanwhile, PTSD creates a hypervigilant nervous system that scans for safety. A chaotic or impersonal space? Feels like danger. A soft blanket and framed photo? Feels like a shield.

Regularly checking in with myself helps me recognize when my nervous system is dysregulated, which makes it easier to manage emotions and symptoms of ADHD and PTSD. And when something feels off, I know I can reset — whether it’s curling up in my cozy corner, stepping outside by the garden, or simply returning to a space that feels grounding and safe. That’s why our environments matters so much!

Task Paralysis? I Sometimes Dissociate. (Yes, Really.)

Here’s a weird truth that trauma survivors will understand:
I’ve learned how to dissociate on purpose.

When I need to quickly clean for a showing — and my ADHD screams “nope!” while my PTSD yells “strangers are coming!” — I tap into that old survival skill and turn everything off.

I go blank. I just clean.

It’s not elegant. But it works. And honestly? With a house this bare and already-clean, I get bored fast — so dissociating lets me bypass the internal drama and just get it done.

Dissociation gets a bad rap, but in small, intentional doses, it can be a useful short-term coping mechanism. Read: It’s a tool I rarely use because it’s a survival mode.

Just be sure to re-anchor afterward with something grounding — music, scent, texture, or a gentle ritual. And definitely speak with your therapist or mental health team before trying this.

Final Thoughts: Home Isn’t Just Where You Are — It’s What You Create

When we move into our new place, there’s going to be a lot of work ahead. That’s stressful — but it’s also an opportunity.

ADHD lets me turn anything into an adventure. PTSD has taught me to spot danger, but it’s also taught me how to carve out safety. And somewhere in the middle, I’m learning how to make my space reflect my resilience.

So if you’re in transition right now — whether you’re selling, moving, redecorating, or just trying to survive another Monday — know this:

Your space doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to make you feel seen.

That might mean gem tones. Or fake plants. Or a gem colored pillow.
Whatever it is — you deserve to come home to something that supports your brain, not drains it.


disclaimer: This post is for educational and informational purposes only and reflects my lived experience with ADHD and PTSD. I’m not a licensed therapist, medical professional, or interior designer. Nothing in this post should be taken as mental health advice or professional design guidance. Always consult with a qualified provider for support tailored to your unique needs and circumstances. Check out my web policies for more disclaimer information.

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