I have a confession: I talk to my commits like they're old friends. Not out loud (usually), but in way I craft each message with care, knowing that someday—maybe next week, maybe next year—someone (probably me) will be desperately grateful for breadcrumbs I'm leaving behind.
My ADHD brain tends to jump between contexts like a caffeinated seagull, and my INTP side craves understanding "why" behind everything. Over years, I've discovered that git commit messages aren't just version control metadata—they're tiny time capsules that capture not just what I changed, but entire story of my thinking process.
Cryptic Commit Wasteland
We've all been there. You're diving into a codebase (sometimes your own from six months ago), and you encounter commits like these:
These commits are like receiving a postcard that just says "Weather: yes." They technically convey information, but leave you more confused than when you started. It's archaeological work trying to piece together what Past Ken was thinking at 2 AM on a Tuesday.
Diary Entry Epiphany
breakthrough came during a particularly frustrating debugging session. I was trying to understand why I'd made a specific change to our authentication flow, and commit message was just "auth updates." I spent three hours reverse-engineering my own thinking.
That's when it hit me: What if I treated each commit message like a diary entry? Not "Dear Diary, today was okay" kind, but kind where you capture your thought process, your reasoning, your context, and even your emotions about change.
Three Questions That Changed Everything
Before writing any commit message, I now ask myself three questions:
What was I trying to solve?
problem or feature request that motivated this change.
Why did I choose this approach?
reasoning behind solution, especially if there were alternatives.
What would I want to know if I encountered this later?
context that would make this change make sense to a future developer.
Transformation Stories: Before & After
Bug Fix Revelation
Refactor Reasoning
Why This Matters More with ADHD
My ADHD brain means I'm constantly context-switching. What felt crystal clear when I was deep in a coding session becomes completely opaque when I return to it after working on three other features. Detailed commit messages are like leaving myself a trail of breadcrumbs through forest of my own thoughts.
ADHD-Friendly Commit Practices I've Developed:
- Context anchors: I include ticket numbers, dates, or related PR links
- Decision documentation: I explain why I chose approach A over approach B
- Future flags: I note if something is temporary or needs follow-up
- Emotional context: Sometimes I note if I was debugging under pressure
My Commit Message Template
Here's template that has saved me countless hours of "What was I thinking?" moments:
When Git History Becomes a Novel
With thoughtful commit messages, your git log transforms from a cryptic timeline into a readable story of problem-solving. Here's what a feature development journey looks like:
Reading through this history, any developer (including Future Ken) can understand not just what changed, but entire thought process, challenges encountered, and decisions made along way.
Unexpected Gifts of Commit Storytelling
Debugging Becomes Archaeology
When bugs appear, git blame becomes a treasure map. Instead of cryptic change logs, you get full story of why code exists, making root cause analysis much faster.
Onboarding Magic
New team members can read through git history like a technical novel, understanding not just what codebase does, but how it evolved and why decisions were made.
Time Travel Documentation
Your past self becomes your best documentation writer. No need to maintain separate docs when your commit history tells complete story.
Code Review Empathy
Reviewers can understand your thinking process, making code reviews more collaborative and less confrontational. They see journey, not just destination.
Commit Messages as Messages in Bottles
Living on Oregon Coast, I often think of commit messages as messages in bottles, cast into ocean of time. Someday, someone (often Future Ken) will find that bottle washed up on shore of a debugging session, and message inside needs to be clear enough to help them navigate safely back to shore.
Just like how a good message in a bottle includes not just "Help!" but also your location, situation, and what kind of help you need, a good commit message provides context, reasoning, and enough detail to make change meaningful to whoever discovers it later.
30-Day Commit Story Challenge
Here's my challenge to you: For next 30 days, treat every commit message like you're writing a letter to a future developer who needs to understand your thinking. Not just what you changed, but why you changed it and what you learned in process.
Your Commit Message Diary Checklist:
- What problem did this solve?
- Why did I choose this approach over alternatives?
- What context would help someone understand this change?
- Are there any gotchas or follow-up items?
- Would this message help me if I found it in 6 months?
From Our Coast to Yours
In a world of increasingly complex codebases and distributed teams, our commit messages are often most honest form of documentation we have. They're written in moment, capturing our real thoughts and reasoning without polish of formal documentation.
So next time you're about to type "fix bug" or "update code," pause for a moment. Think of developer who will encounter this change six months from now—someone who might be you on a Tuesday morning when your coffee hasn't kicked in yet. What story do you want to tell them? What breadcrumbs do you want to leave on their path through your code?
Your version control history is more than a timeline—it's story of your problem-solving journey. Make it a story worth reading.