Demetrious Reed Presents: Demeland – The ADHD Archive & The Exorcism of My Second Brain

Before anything else, this blog is an exorcism.

Not the horror movie kind. There’s no spinning heads or demon voices here. But it is a release. A purge. A way to finally let go of all the digital ghosts that have been haunting my headspace for years. These posts aren’t content. They’re memory dumps. Brain rituals. Every one of them is a piece of mental clutter I’m pushing out of the attic and into the sunlight.

This is what happens when someone with ADHD, perfectionism, and a cluttered second brain finally reaches their breaking point and decides to start clearing space. Out loud. In public. For real.

I’ve always had a weird brain.

It took me until my 40s to admit it, but I’ve known deep down since I was a kid. I didn’t have the language back then. I just thought I was scattered, distracted, or “creative” in that backhanded compliment kind of way. But in the past few years, I’ve gone deep into understanding adult ADHD. Not the memes. The actual research. The case studies, the diagnostics, the lived experiences.

And suddenly, so many things clicked.

The hyperfocus. The obsessive system mapping. The fact that I can’t do anything unless I understand every part of it. The sketches. The diagrams. The dozens of hobbies. The years of jumping around from one shiny obsession to the next. I’m not flaky. I’m not lazy. I’m divergent. My mind works in a way that’s never satisfied with surface-level anything. I deep-dive. I pattern-match. I remix. Then I burn out.

I’m not a genius. But I’ve got what I call pseudogenius. That weird in-between state where I seem brilliant to people in conversation because I’ve touched a lot of things, and I know how to draw fast connections between seemingly unrelated stuff. Design, code, theology, music, branding, philosophy, automation, film, psychology. I live in the intersections.

But with that comes the weight.

By 38, I was mentally crashing. The pressure, the panic attacks, the insomnia. I was surrounded by potential I couldn’t act on. My brain was full of half-built brands, businesses, sketches, scripts, frameworks, tools, systems. I thought I needed a second brain to store it all.

I tried everything. Evernote. Apple Notes. Obsidian. Notion. Then I got crazy and tried to build my own second brain software from scratch. Which became its own spiraling black hole of a project I had no business starting. But that’s the pattern. I build the thing to manage the other things, and then the thing becomes another thing I have to manage.

Eventually, all that “organization” just became digital hoarding. The second brain didn’t save me. It buried me. I created a beautifully structured graveyard.

And I had to face it. I don’t need more storage. I need a release valve.

That’s what this blog is. That’s what Demeland is.

This is me unloading. One post at a time. Every logo, every dream, every app idea, every half-finished script. If I obsessed over it, if I built it or almost built it or planned to build it, I’m writing it up. I’m showing the work. Then I’m letting it go.

I delete the file. I delete the notes. I move on.

It’s not just about clearing space. It’s about healing. About finding closure. About looking at something I once poured my soul into and saying, “Thanks for the lesson. I’m done now.” These aren’t polished portfolio pieces. They’re artifacts. Memory chunks. Ghosts I’m setting free.

Some of these posts might actually be useful to people. They’re not “how-tos.” They’re “here’s-what-I-did”s. Sometimes they’re cautionary tales. Sometimes they’re sparks. Sometimes they’re just a timestamp of a moment where I cared about something deeply and didn’t know what to do with it.

And part of the reason I’m doing this is legacy.

There’s this idea in the Bible about leaving an inheritance for your children’s children. And sure, that can mean money. But it also means wisdom. Frameworks. A path. A record of how you think and live and create and try. I don’t want my kids to have to wait until their 40s to figure out how their minds work. I want to leave a map. Even if it’s messy.

Demeland is the map.

It’s my brain, turned into a theme park. That’s not just branding. That’s real. I’ve taken my family to Disneyland and Universal Studios more than ten times. I’m obsessed with the idea of separate lands that blend into one world. Adventureland. Tomorrowland. Harry Potter World. Star Wars Galaxy’s Edge. It’s all connected, but each section has its own vibe. That’s how I think. That’s how I want this blog to work.

Each post is a land. A ride. A standalone world inside the park of my mind. Some are fun. Some are glitchy. Some are dark or unfinished. Some are joke rides. Some are documentaries of projects that never left the garage. But they’re all real. All mine.

So yeah. That’s what this is.

It’s not a productivity system. It’s not a personal brand. It’s not a self-help blog or a polished portfolio.

It’s my brain on the internet.

One post at a time. One ghost at a time.
No fast passes. No map.
Bring snacks.