At some point in my career I realised something about myself that I found odd:
I don’t really have an internal monologue.
There’s no running commentary in my head.
And when I’m working on code, I don’t talk myself through it - I just sort of see how things fit together.
My brain turns problems into little diagrams - modules, data flows, relationships - and I shuffle them around until it makes sense.
If something feels off, I can’t always explain why right away; it just doesn’t “sit right” in the picture.
It’s not deep or mystical. It’s just how my brain decided to handle logic.
How That Plays Out When I Code
When I open a project, my brain starts sketching connections on autopilot:
- Functions become dots.
- Data flows become arrows.
- Layers stack themselves.
If I’m debugging, I mentally “run” the system and watch where it snags.
If I’m refactoring, I move those shapes around until the structure feels cleaner.
It doesn’t make me smarter than anyone else - it’s just a different way of keeping track of what’s going on.
But it does make me fast. (Mostly.)
What’s Good About It
This way of thinking has a few handy upsides:
- I notice messy structures early, even if I can’t explain them yet.
- I don’t mind big or complicated codebases - I can zoom out and see how they hang together.
- Refactoring feels natural once the mental diagram stops wobbling.
- I remember how things work pretty well.
- I’m decent at solving certain kinds of problems quickly.
But it’s not exactly a superpower - just a quirk that happens to line up nicely with how software behaves.
Where It Trips Me Up
The same brain that can juggle abstract systems will absolutely forget to do the dishes.
When I’m lost in a mental model, everything else drops out - messages, chores, meetings, time.
And when I try to explain what’s in my head, it can sound like I’m skipping steps.
To me it’s obvious; to others it looks like I jumped from A to D with no B or C.
For a while I thought that meant communication just wasn’t my strength - or maybe that I have ADHD (and maybe I do).
Turns out it was more like no one else can see the imaginary flowchart you’re looking at, dude.
Figuring Out How to Collaborate
Here’s what helped me stop confusing my teammates:
- Draw before explaining. Even the worst napkin sketch gets everyone on the same page faster than words.
- Describe what you see, not what you feel. Saying “this flow feels tangled” is vague; saying “these two layers depend on each other” makes sense to everyone.
- Pair with talkers. Verbal thinkers slow me down in a good way. They help me translate my diagrams into normal sentences.
- Write short “why” notes. One or two lines about why I changed something saves future me (and others) from guessing my logic.
None of this came naturally.
I had to treat communication as part of the engineering work, not an optional extra.
Making Peace With It
Now I see this less as a quirk and more as my user manual.
I think in shapes. Most people think in words.
The job isn’t to change that - it’s to make sure the two can meet in the middle.
It’s still weird sometimes. I can’t narrate my thoughts the way some folks can.
But once I stopped trying to “think normally” and focused on explaining better, work (and teamwork) got a lot smoother.
A Hitchhiker’s Guide
This is one of the stories behind my ongoing series, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Software Sanity - little lessons about staying sane in the chaos of tech.
Because sanity in software isn’t always about frameworks or productivity hacks - it’s also about understanding how your own brain works, and finding ways to make that work with other humans.
If your brain does something weird, you’re not alone.
Just learn its rules, and build an adapter.
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