It’s Not About the Nail (Except When It Is)

A constellation shaped like a nail- but much like the video not being about the nail, this post isn’t about this picture!

Over a decade ago, a short video called “It’s Not About the Nail” by Jason Headley made its way onto YouTube. It’s just under two minutes long, but if you’ve ever been in a relationship—romantic or otherwise—it’ll probably hit home.

If you haven’t seen it, go watch it now (seriously). Then come back.

The video features a woman describing relentless pressure in her head, how she can’t sleep, and how all her sweaters are snagged. As the camera shifts, you realize… there’s a nail sticking out of her forehead. Her partner tries to help, pointing out the obvious fix, but she interrupts: “It’s not about the nail.”

And that’s the point. Sometimes, the problem is not really “the problem.” Sometimes we don’t need solutions—we need validation. Empathy. Presence.

A Shortcut to Emotional Needs

When my husband and I watched this video, it instantly clicked. We’d been in that moment before—many times. One of us trying to help, fix, or troubleshoot… when what the other person really needed was a little “ugh, yeah, that’s awful” and a hug.

So now, in our home, “it’s not about the nail” is shorthand. If one of us is venting or overwhelmed and the other starts launching into solutions, we gently say: “it’s not about the nail.”
It’s like hitting pause and saying: “Hey, I need connection first. Not solutions.”

Even better, once we feel heard and supported, we can switch gears by saying:
“Okay, it is about the nail now.”
That’s our cue to move into problem-solving mode—together.

Neurodivergent Brains and Nail Obsession

Here's the thing: for many neurodivergent folks (hello ADHD, autism, etc.), it is often about the nail. We tend to zero in on the problem. Hyperfocus kicks in. We interrupt because we’ve already diagnosed the issue. We start pulling on that metaphorical nail because our brain has locked onto it—and we want to help.

But from the outside, especially to someone neurotypical, that can feel dismissive. Like we’re skipping their emotional experience. Like we’re not listening. And that’s not true.

We’re pulling on the nail because we care. Because we don’t want the people we love to suffer. We’re trying to make things easier, not brush them off.

And the reverse is also true.

When your brain works differently, you grow up feeling misunderstood or “too much.” Having a clear way to express what you need in the moment—whether it’s empathy or solutions—can change things.

Sometimes, as neurodivergent people, we’re used to masking our feelings or rushing to logic to “fix” emotions. But healthy connection starts with pausing. Listening.
Letting someone else say “everything is tangled and I don’t know where to start”... and just sitting with that for a minute.

Learning to say, “It’s not about the nail”—and hearing it when it’s said to us—is one of those nuanced communication tools that can really transform how we relate, especially across different neurotypes.

Nail Talk Is Communication Work

This whole idea ties back to a theme I keep coming back to: finding the words to describe your needs and emotions. (If you missed my earlier blog on ADHD communication tools, I highly recommend it [link here].)

Whether it's a word, a phrase, or a whole metaphor about home improvement accidents, having shared language makes communication smoother. It removes the guesswork. It helps us stay connected even when our styles don’t match up perfectly.

“It’s not about the nail” is funny, yes—but it’s also emotional intelligence in action. It’s regulation. It’s empathy. And honestly? It’s one of the best phrases in our emotional toolbelt.

The Takeaway

If you’re someone whose instinct drives you to want to help or fix things, remember:
Not every problem needs a solution first.
Sometimes, we just need someone to sit next to us and say, “Yeah, that’s really hard.”

And if you're the one venting? Try saying, “It’s not about the nail.”
You might be surprised how much clarity that brings.

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Fidgeting & Stimming: The ADHD Superpower We’re Taught to Suppress